TIME AND PLACE
1961. A thick, tropical forest along the River Ogooué stands guard over Dr. Albert Schweitzer’s hospital in Lambaréné, Gabon, West Africa. His bungalow (center stage), like the nearby wooden barracks, is old, with chicken-wire windows. Untidy. Dusty. Cozy. Safe and relaxing. All about are the sounds of animals – chickens, goats, dogs, cats, chimpanzees, and a peacock. The inside quarters, where SCHWEITZER works and sleeps, are remarkably small and overcrowded. A desk, crammed with books, papers and a lamp, takes up nearly the entire area by the window (along with its chair). There is barely room enough on it for him to write. Batches of letters, more books, and manuscripts are heaped in bundles on the floor beside the table. Personal belongings are tucked in where they can fit. Clothes hang from a line across the room. A few faded photographs and African straw mats fill what space there is over his bed and his organ-like piano. A single chair for a guest rests in the only unoccupied space near the desk. Between scenes, selections from Bach’s organ music may be heard.