Lights snap up on the NARRATOR setting the dinner table at Mkhulu's house.

NARRATOR: On the Little Drummer Girl's tenth birthday her mother, Nandi, decided it was time for her to be integrated back into the silent society.

The NARRATOR, playing the little girl, sits on an upturned bucket peering over the table-top. There is an effective trick of perspective and scale created by the smallness of the bucket in relation to the table ledge.

NARRATOR: That's right, she was going to sit with Nandi and Mkhulu at the dinner table. First her mother handed her a plate. Then her own knife and fork.

She mimes carefully receiving the plate and utensils, accompanied by the PERCUSSIONIST's carefully judged sound effects.

NARRATOR: That's when she felt it. An itch in her finger tips … an itch that no scratching could ease; an itch that spread through her body like wildfire.

The LITTLE DRUMMER GIRL (with support from the PERCUSSIONIST throughout the scene) drums furiously on the table top with imaginary eating utensils before throwing them back down again, afraid. Silence. She glances apologetically over at her mother and then at the old man, before reaching again for her knife and fork, determined to keep the rhythm suppressed.

Once again she is overcome by the need. She drums wildly on her tin plate, then rises, dancing to the rhythm she has created. She clicks her cutlery together defiantly.

The NARRATOR hops to the left of the table and portrays NANDI, who has succumbed to the music and risen, shaking a salt cellar in time to the beat, then switches back to the DRUMMER GIRL (centre) then to MKHULU, who gleefully rises and hits a teapot with a teaspoon, chuckling all the while. Then back to the DRUMMER GIRL in the centre, who plays furiously on her plate. Eventually the dance and music reach a climax.

NARRATOR: When the dance ended the three collapsed, but Nandi shook her head in sadness.

As NANDI.

NANDI [shaking her head, perturbed]: Ai … ai, is there no end to this rhythm? No muthi to cure this madness?