'Forget-Me-Not, Iran':

The Story of Keith Ransom-Kehler

A Play in Two Acts Runs at 55 minutes

Cast List:

Keith Ransom-Kehler – American female

Chairman of the National Spiritual Assembly of the Bahá'ís of the United States of America/Maori Chief/American Ambassador – American male

Mullah/Iranian Government Official – Persian male

Paperboy/Aide/Guide/Iranian Girl – Persian female (young)

Set:

Stage left there is a low table and chair for the Chairman. At the back, there is a large screen on which the images are projected.

ACT ONE:

Keith's Awakening and World Travels

Spotlight comes up on the CHAIRMAN. He is a mature and dignified gentleman, in his early 60s, dressed in a 1930's American suit. He speaks to the audience throughout.

CHAIRMAN: It was in the winter of 1931, when I was serving as the Chairman of the National Spiritual Assembly of the Bahá'ís of the US and Canada that the Guardian, Shoghi Effendi, first asked our National Assembly to petition the Shah of Iran to allow the publication of Bahá'í literature in that country. This attempt failed, thwarted by political upheaval that took the Shah's attention away from our plea. Our second attempt was no more successful. We realised that powerful factions were what decided the occupation of his time and attention, not the Shah himself. We turned, lost and defeated back to Shoghi Effendi, knowing not what to do. He suggested that someone going there to meet with the Shah in person might achieve the mission. But who would that be?

Light snaps up on KEITH, dressed 'exceedingly elegantly'. She stands on stage right. Springing to life ...

KEITH: Now, are there any questions? Yes, the lady with the beautiful blue wrap ... Oh, that is such a lovely fabric! Is it Chanel? I thought so. Anyway, what was your question? (she listens) No, I'll be speaking about that subject tomorrow evening. It is then we will address the challenges of combining chicken-rearing with fruit farming, alright? It is an interesting subject indeed – I like to call it 'Fricken Farming'. Great for the economy and great for chickens. Since I was raised on a farm, I have been forever concerned with the depressing exigencies of these pitiable little creatures.

KEITH freezes.

CHAIRMAN: Keith Ransom-Kehler, a highly intelligent, highly elegant, and highly opinionated young lady, met 'Abdu'l-Bahá in September 1911 while on a visit to London. She was one of the seekers who flocked to hear Him speak. She wasn't a Bahá'í then, but became profoundly influenced by Him.

KEITH springs to life again.

KEITH: Yes, you sir, how can I help? (she listens to his question – but he obviously says something that shocks her) Sorry, let me just get this right. You are worried about the mental health of your daughter if you allow her to complete secondary school, because you actually believe that with more education, she'll have more to worry about in life ... and what was the last bit? (she listens while he repeats) Oh yes, you think that women's lives should be simple – husband, motherhood and not to worry about the rest of the world.

Pause.

Well, sir, I just think that you have to get with the modern world. The equality of men and women is now a reality, and that means equality of education, first and foremost. Women's lives were not made to be simple. Women were made, sir, to bring solutions into this world, solutions to problems that men have created in large part. And if those women aregoing to find those solutions, those men are going to have to let them get educated. No! Scratch that. Women themselves, despite what small-minded and petty men like you think, have to get themselves educated. Do you think that by allowing your daughter an education that she will surpass you in intellect and show you up? Well – I think that she just will most likely do that. And more power to her. Good night.

She goes to exit, but then stops and turns back to the audience.

KEITH: My husband tells me I'm like a gun levelled at poor unsuspecting gentlemen (with slight pity) and he (indicating the man she has just addressed) obviously didn't know I was loaded.

She freezes.

CHAIRMAN: Ten years later, Keith became a Bahá'í in Chicago and plunged into the work – administration, organising community events and teaching. Then, in 1926, she went on pilgrimage ...

A moving image of the Guardian is projected onto the screen which plays as she speaks.

KEITH: Meeting that majestic essence of purity, dear Shoghi Effendi ... this youth under thirty, labouring day and night for us, sacriffcing every human desire and tendency to further our efforts ... with no more personal life than a graven image, no more thought of self than a breeze or a flower, just a hollow reed for the divine melody. Why! Any one of us is ready to die for him, but can we conscientiously number ourselves among those who are willing to live for him?

Being close to the Guardian in those days wasn't the only bounty on pilgrimage – of course, I also spent time with beloved Bahíyyih Khánum and Munírih Khánum, the Master's widow. Exquisite, fragrant, imperturbable, assured, they walk among the changing conditions of the world. They make no attempt to reform people, but ennoble them merely by their presence.

Oh! I didn't want to leave that place. Whoever does? But one day when I was overcome by this feeling of wishing to stay in heaven for the rest of my earthly life, dear Munírih Khánum came to me, held my hand and we looked into each other's eyes of sadness and said, "You should be very happy, for you have the opportunity to go out into the world and give to others these glad tidings."

She freezes.

CHAIRMAN: Keith left Haifa a firebrand, even more passionate, even more focussed and devoted than before. On the very night she arrived back in New York, she took the lead in a teaching campaign. For five consecutive days she lectured about the Bahá'í Faith in the ballroom of the Majestic Hotel to audiences of hundreds.

KEITH: Now we've come to the end of this series lectures ... You have heard about Bahá'u'lláh, His healing Message, His wondrous Laws and Teachings. I would like to ask those of you who now consider yourself a Bahá'í to stay behind. The rest can leave. (she turns away, waiting as people leave). Now, how many of you are there? (she counts) My! 35 souls! My dear friends, welcome, welcome to the Cause of God!

CHAIRMAN: Hearing of this groundbreaking success, the Guardian sent 35 ring stones as gifts.

A young PAPERBOY enters from the top of the auditorium.

PAPERBOY: Keith Ransom-Kehler! In our town for one night only!

There is a flash of light, as if KEITH is having her photograph taken. She poses. The flashes and poses continue between each of the PAPERBOY and CHAIRMAN's lines.

CHAIRMAN: For the next five years, Keith took many lecture and travel-teaching trips to cities all over the US.

PAPERBOY: Keith Ransom-Kehler! Speaker extraordinaire!

CHAIRMAN: On one particular campaign, she visited every Local Assembly from Washington to Los Angeles to instruct them on proper administrative functioning.

PAPERBOY: Intrepid world traveller! Passionate Bahá'í teacher! ... Martyr!

Pause. PAPERBOY and CHAIR both sharply turn to look at KEITH.

CHAIRMAN: In 11 months, she gave 329 addresses. In Seattle alone, she gave 45 public talks.

PAPERBOY: (wandering off stage) Keith Ransom-Kehler – for one night only! Come and hear her speak ...!

CHAIRMAN: Shoghi Effendi had given our National Assembly a special mission – to educate communities around the world on the pattern of Bahá'í administration. We needed to send a representative abroad. We sent Keith.

Keith's nine suitcases are pushed on from stage right.

CHAIRMAN: In June 1925, she set sail for Japan.

A loud foghorn sounds. Japanese music begins to play and the AIDE takes a red Japanese kimono out of the top suitcase, which KEITH slips luxuriantly into.

KEITH: On my third day, I was invited to a fashionable tea party given by Mrs Kuroda, the wife of a famous virtuoso. I was so charmed by the highly refined household and the elegant gathering. I wore a beautiful red silk kimono and just the most exquisite pearls you have ever seen! I was particularly charmed by Mrs Kuroda's 85-year-old mother. Though I did find it taxing having to return the deep bows with which everyone else effortlessly greeted me.

Music fades to off.

The next day, we met a Japanese Christian minister. I must say I was pleased when he remarked, "Between me and my next door neighbour there is a wall of formality, but I seem to have been friends with Mrs Keith for many years and yet I have just met her." Well, don't you just think that he needs to get over himself and go round to that neighbour and invite him over for tea or something. Neighbours should talk, for God's sake!

KEITH is helped out of the Japanese robe.

CHAIRMAN: Keith's next stop was China, sailing to Shanghai in August and then onto Guangzhou in the south ...

The AIDE takes out a Chinese tea set and sets up 'chairs' and a 'table' using the suitcases. Meanwhile, KEITH goes to fetch the rest of the suitcases.

KEITH: So, Ling and Chan Liu, who became Bahá'ís through dear Martha, met me off the boat. Ling was wearing the most delightful peach-coloured Chinese outfit for the occasion. It wasn't easy to transport my mountains of luggage to their house. As we got out of the taxi, rain just poured down and it was only then that I learnt there was no road. To reach their house, every piece of luggage would have to traverse two sets of railroad tracks, a golf course, a vacant lot, a deep ditch and an old fort. Ling and I dragged three pieces of luggage and went to get their servant while Chan looked after the rest. We practically swam the train tracks, the golf course, the vacant lot, the ditch and the old fort. I was embarrassed that they had to go all this trouble just for little ol' me. But, at last, everything was home and we all sat down to tea.

KEITH and the AIDE sip tea together.

There were signs everywhere that China was preparing for civil war. I was appalled by the poverty and hardship under which most people laboured. Oh! This aching body of man cries out for its new God-sent freedom. Chan Lui asked shyly if the Guardian had ever spoken about China. With what thrilling joy I was able to tell him that, Yes! On several occasions Shoghi Effendi has spoken of the great importance of the work in China.

The low sound of a didgeridoo is heard.

CHAIRMAN: The next stop for Keith was Australia. A long sea voyage lasting nearly a week was what it her took to get there.

KEITH: Oh! The ocean was a gorgeous lapis blue, the sky pale, the sunlight mellow, the clouds shining white, the breeze kind, while the screaming of the monkeys among the dense coconut thickets that crowded the water's edge created a pandemonium of meaningless energy. But everyone on the ship spoke only Japanese. I had no-one to talk to, no-one to dress up for. I ate alone ... but I still always dressed for dinner. And then, I arrived!

The AIDE stands ready with a huge bunch of flowers that she has taken from one of the suitcases and hands it to KEITH.

I immediately began a hectic schedule of lectures and Bahá'í gatherings.

Everywhere I spoke I was presented with beautifully arranged bouquets of flowers so that sometimes I seemed literally lost in a wilderness of colour and fragrance! I must say that my clothes were also much appreciated in frontier Australia. Women there just long for a little refinement and splendour! But it wasn't all roses.

KEITH hands the flowers back to the AIDE.

I had to minister to some tender egos while presenting the demanding standards of Bahá'í beliefs. Some people who serve on Bahá'í Assemblies are not really Bahá'ís at all – they have all sorts of reservations and other affiliations. Some even profess themselves to be Communists! The real Bahá'ís in Adelaide number themselves to about 5.

And, one evening in Newcastle near Sydney, I delivered an address to a room full of hecklers. At the back there was an officious-looking man with a dog. That filthy beast came to the platform, sniffed me and retired to its master's side. The whole scene resembled something out of Huckleberry Finn. There were interruptions, exclamations, comings and goings all through my talk. People rose and gave their own speeches during question time. The chairman finally said to them, "Make your questions brief," and then turned to me and said, "Make your answers brief." I replied, "I shall answer myself as adequately as possible to the question, sir." And proceeded to do so for another hour and a half.

KEITH freezes. The AIDE takes a piece of black lace out of a suitcase and assists KEITH to fix it over her hair.

CHAIRMAN: Keith's next adventure was in New Zealand, where she delighted in meeting the Maori people.

KEITH: I donned the traditional black lace of the natives and went to the village of Wacka. Chief Mita Taupokei had arranged the meeting. When I arrived, a little boy was sent to ring a bell through the streets and in they pressed – grandmothers, infants-in-arms, college students – all with great curiosity. The old Chief spoke an introduction in his native tongue. My guide translated ...

The GUIDE comes forward and stands next to KEITH to translate, pausing between each sentence to 'listen' to the MAORI CHIEF.

MAORI CHIEF: (played by the Chairman) Ringa pakia a ka mate. Ka mate ka ura. Ka ura tene. Te tangata pu huru huru Mrs Ransom-Kehler.

GUIDE: Welcome to Mrs Keith Ransom-Kehler! To what great matter are we about to listen? It must be a subject of such great importance as this stranger has travelled over many seas to share with the Maoris, an obscure and forgotten people. We await impatiently the unfolding of her news and message.

KEITH: Sir Chief (bowing in respect), I come to talk to you about unity in diversity and the value of the Maori culture from the Bahá'í viewpoint.

CHIEF: Nana, tiki mai whaka whiti te ra a. Upane, kaupane upane, kaupane whiti te ra! Hu!

GUIDE: (interpreting the Chief) Congratulations! Congratulations! You bring good news to our people. This is the first time that a white woman has ever come to speak to us. And the first time we have heard this Message of kindness and peace.

The AIDE steps back, taking the black lace that KEITH hands her, placing it on one of the suitcases before exiting. KEITH's mood changes again. She comes forward, forlorn, and sits heavily on a suitcase. As the CHAIR speaks, the spotlight on KEITH gradually narrows, until it is a sharp, cold light.

CHAIRMAN: Then Keith took off back to the East, this time to Burma. It was a difficult voyage. She fell into an abyss of self-doubt, feeling her efforts were in vain. Having suffered a stillbirth before losing her husband only a few years before, the profound loneliness she often felt returned. Believing that the other passengers on the ship disliked her, Keith kept to herself, playing solitaire in the lounge for long hours.

KEITH: (staring up into the light) Oh, Shoghi Effendi! I am bearing witness throughout the world to a light I cannot see. I read the prayers, try to meditate, wring my hands and cry aloud to heaven, but the skies are brass. Am I too small for God to know? ... But there stirs somewhere in the depths of my withered soul a faint assurance and protest – no! no!

(with more strength, standing) As Ralph Waldo Emerson once said, "To be loved, one must be lovely." I must set to work on that. In obedience to 'Abdu'l-Bahá, I must attract people to myself for the sake of the Faith.

The light broadens out and becomes warm again. Her mood changes and becomes bright. Upbeat Indian music plays. KEITH lifts two suitcases and 'arrives' in India.

CHAIRMAN: After three exceedingly full weeks of engagements in Burma, Keith moved onto India.

KEITH: My arrival in Calcutta was less than thrilling. As I disembarked from the ship, I realised that there was no one to meet me. As usual, the only address I had was a post office box. So I had a coolie take my mountain of luggage ashore and sat waiting there for another half an hour. I was feeling rather forlorn so had summoned a taxi to take me to the nearest hotel, and was just climbing in, when a little man in a huge white turban asked me, "Are you Mrs Ransom-Kehler?" He introduced himself as Mr Pitram Singh, the secretary of the National Assembly of the Bahá'ís of India and Burma. He had such a beautiful, kind, gentle face, I couldn't be angry with him. It turned out there had been a mix-up about the time of the ship's docking.

During the next sequence, the AIDE rushes on with a sari, quickly dressing KEITH in it, the last piece being slung over her shoulder as KEITH delivers the line "I had arrived."

The next thing I knew a young man, holding a huge bunch of red roses rushed up to us shouting, "Welcome to India!" He was the chairman of the Local Assembly of Calcutta. I had arrived!

It was in India, addressing these huge gatherings of noisy, colourful people that I learned to ask in commanding tones from the podium: "Could all who feel bored, please leave." This always caused amusement and put me en rapport with the audience. These meetings tended to be kaleidoscopic – groups wandering in and out of the balcony, people talking all the way through, hawkers and paperboys shouting lustily outside the open windows, motor horns honking and the ceaseless din of the traffic.

She freezes, covering her ears, while the CHAIRMAN speaks.

CHAIRMAN: Keith's itinerary included Varanasi, Lucknow, Aligarh, Agra, New Delhi, Amritsar, Lahore, Karachi, Bombay, Hyderabad and Pune. All accompanied by the little man in the huge, white turban who had been instructed by the Guardian himself to do so.