Samah Sabawi’s “Them” Still Feels as Timely as It Did a Decade Ago

Although it was written in 2015, Them by Samah Sabawi could have just as easily been published last week. The play’s politics and perspective are just as relevant and pressing now as they were a decade ago. Director Malek Najjar, a University of Oregon theater arts professor, said as much about his decision to stage it across Oregon in the play’s program, describing Them as “an attempt to give value to the lives of those who are suffering in wars and conflicts funded and perpetuated by Western powers that have turned a blind eye to the plight of millions of innocent civilians who are dying every day.” Theatergoers can catch performances of Them at Portland Center Stage’s Ellyn Bye Studio running Aug. 21–23.

Them tells the story of Leila (Zayne Clayton) and Omar (Akash Dhruva), a young married couple living in an unspecified war-torn country. While Leila wants to flee to protect them and their infant son, Omar—optimistically or delusionally—believes they can weather the storm and keep their home without having to become refugees.

The play never explicitly states where exactly Leila and Omar live. Their names and costumes seem Middle Eastern, but they refer to the ongoing conflict in the vaguest terms and speak English only in contemporary American accents. The ambiguity gives the audience space not only to make their own assumptions, but to connect the characters to people in their own lives; Leila and Omar could be our neighbors, our friends, or even us but for a twist of fate. However, the timing of the show and Sabawi’s Palestinian heritage can’t help but conjure the ongoing Gaza War, which adds a layer of immediacy that heightens an already tense story.

Dré Slaman rounds out the core cast as Salma, Omar’s sister whose relationship with the family is strained. Salma has carved out a living as a matchmaker amid the wider conflict, arranging for women to marry her wealthy clients and escape the violence. She sees herself as providing a necessary service, giving brides a shot at a better life and using the funds to help her family live through famine. But to Leila and Omar, Salma’s work is little more than glorified sex trafficking, with girls as young as 14 sold off to husbands three times their age. Them asserts there is no right or wrong answer here, but instead asks the audience what horrors they would rationalize if it meant survival, and which of their morals would stand firm in the face of annihilation.

Yet amid the darkness and suffering, there’s humor. Omar’s main way of dealing with the nightly bombings is to crack jokes, dark as they may be, and even Leila and Salma get into sitcom-style high jinks at one point. Sabawi’s script doesn’t make light of a serious situation but shows all facets of the refugee experience, including the lighter side, and demonstrates what a lifeline the smallest joke can be in the desolation of war.

The set is intentionally minimalistic, a collection of furniture that Leila and Omar uses as makeshift bomb shelters more often than for their intended purpose. The exception is a line of fence posts topped with barbed wire in the background, which serve to remind the audience that our heroes’ home has become more prisonlike than anything else. The traditional instrumental music performed live by Denise and Wayne Gilbertson, known collectively as Acoustic Pilgrims, provides a sense of authenticity and atmosphere during scene changes.

The play’s title comes primarily from Omar, whose greatest fear upon fleeing his home is that he and his family would become one of “them,” meaning refugees, outsiders, pariahs. However, as Omar’s friends remind him, the exact definition of “us” and “them” is nebulous, and the line separating the two is never as clear-cut as we like to imagine. Them uses its dark humor and tense drama to ask the audience what they would do in a desperate situation and which parts of their souls they’d be willing to set aside for the sake of their families. It’s a funny, intimate, heartbreaking drama that succeeds as a cry for empathy and compassion at a time when such feelings are in short supply.

SEE IT: Them at Portland Center Stage at The Armory, 128 NW 11th Ave., 503-445-3700, pcs.org. 7:30 pm Aug. 21–23. $15–$30.