TAMI and MARTIJN are sitting on the floor facing each other. He is beating on a small drum between his legs. CATHARINA on the third world is cleaning the window and FRITZ is painting sunflowers. Their movements are consistent and monotonous so the focus will not be on them, but on MARTIJN and TAML This is helped by the fact that the lights are brighter on TAMI and MARTIJN than on the other pair. MARTIJN stops drumming to roll a cigarette.

TAMI: You and your dagga!

MARTIJN: What is dagga?

TAMI: Grass, weed, pot, Mary-Jane … whatever you choose to call it.

MARTIJN: The holy herb? Why should it bother you?

TAMI: In South Africa they would have locked you up long ago.

MARTIJN: Well, here it is legal. You can buy it at any coffee shop that displays a green light.

TAMI: I know … I know … A society without restrictions. Savouring the freedom of green and red lights! Life is like a traffic light. Red! Screw! Green! Smoke! Stop! Go! And now, of course, if you decide to die, you can die too … without anyone taking issue with you.

MARTIJN is puffing on his cigarette. Then he mockingly charges towards her, screaming like a madman, beating on the drum.

MARTIJN: Come on, African woman, show me what you are made of!

TAMI: Okay, you asked for it. Don't complain.

She picks up her trombone and blows up a storm. The people in the third world brandish their fists in anger. It is like a silent movie; we can't hear what they say. We can only see their angry gestures, which become part of MARTIJN and TAMI's mad dance. After the din has reached its peak the drumming and the trombone stop. Only the anger remains in the faces of the people of the third world as they continue their disturbed work of painting and cleaning the window.

MARTIJN and TAMI fall into each other's arms, laughing.

MARTIJN: That was very wicked. You are lucky they haven't complained to the police about your wild noise.

TAMI: It is your fault. You bring out the wild tribal woman in me! Or perhaps the crazy township woman. I like it so much when Dutch people are destabilised by noise. There is too much order here. We need a little bit of chaos.