GARGA: You spoiled my fun. Your brutality has no equal.
I’ll keep some of the money. But I’m not staying here, because this is the point of the whole thing, Mr Shlink from Yokohama: I’m going to Tahiti.
MARY: You’re yellow, George. When the preacher left, you winced. I saw you. How desperate you are!
GARGA: I came here peeled to the bones. Trembling from the spiritual debauches of the last two weeks. I spat in his face many times. Each time he swallowed it. I despise him. It’s all over.
MARY: Disgusting!
GARGA: You left me in the lurch. A tooth for a tooth.
MARY: And now you’re going to carry on the fight with me? You never knew where to stop. God will punish you. I want nothing from you, only my peace.
GARGA: And to find bread for your parents in a whore’s bed. And to offer your horse’s smell for sale and say: It’s not me! That you may prosper in bed and dwell long upon the earth. He exits with the others.
MARY: I don’t really understand you, Mr Shlink. But you can go in all four directions, while others have only one. A man has many possibilities, hasn’t he? I can see that a man has many possibilities. Shlink shrugs his shoulders, turns around and leaves. Mary follows him.
3
Living-room of the Garga Family
22 August, after 7 p.m.
A filthy attic. In the rear a curtain hangs in front of a small balcony.
John Garga and his wife Mae. Manky is singing a song.
JOHN: Something has happened here that’s hard to talk about.
MANKY: They say your son George is mixed up in the kind of deal that never ends. They say he’s mixed up with a yellow man. The yellow man has done something to him.
MAE: We can’t interfere.
JOHN: If he’s been fired, we can eat grass.
MAE: Ever since he was a little boy, he’s had to have things his way.
MANKY: They say you shouldn’t have hired out your daughter, Mary, to this yellow man.
MAE: Yes, Mary’s been gone two weeks now too.
MANKY: People must be beginning to see that it all hangs together.
MAE: When our daughter left, she told us she’d been offered a job in a lumber business. Ten dollars a week and only linen to attend to.
MANKY: Linen for a yellow man!
JOHN: In cities like this nobody can see the next house. When people read a newspaper, they never know what it means.
MANKY: Or when they buy a ticket.
JOHN: When they ride in these electric trolleys, it probably gives them …
MANKY: Stomach cancer.
JOHN: Nobody knows. Here in the States wheat grows summer and winter.
MANKY: But suddenly, without any warning, there’s no dinner for you. You walk in the street with your children, observing the fourth commandment to the letter, and suddenly you’ve only got your son’s or daughter’s hand in your hand, and your son and daughter themselves have sunk into a sudden gravel pit.
JOHN: Hello, who’s there?
Garga stands in the doorway.
GARGA: Still chewing the fat?
JOHN: Have you finally got the money for the two weeks?
GARGA: Yes.
JOHN: Have you still got your job or not? A new jacket! Looks like you’ve been well paid for something? Huh? There’s your mother, George. To Mae: Why are you standing there like Lot’s wife? Your son’s here. Our son has come to take us out to dinner at the Metropolitan Bar. Your darling son looks pale, doesn’t he? Slightly drunk maybe. Come on, Manky, let’s go. We’ll smoke our pipes on the stairs!
Both go out.
MAE: Tell me, George, are you mixed up with somebody?
GARGA: Has somebody been here?
MAE: No.
GARGA: I’ve got to go away.
MAE: Where?
GARGA: Any place. You always get scared at once.
MAE: Don’t go away.
GARGA: I’ve got to. One man insults another. That’s disagreeable for the man who gets insulted. But under certain circumstances the first man is willing to give up a whole lumber business for the pleasure of insulting the other. That’s even more disagreeable for the second man. Maybe when he’s been insulted like that, he’d better leave town. But since that might be too pleasant for him, even that may no longer be possible. In any case, he’s got to be free.
MAE: Aren’t you free?
GARGA: No. Pause. We’re none of us free. It starts in the morning with our coffee, and we’re beaten if we play the fool. A mother salts her children’s food with her tears and washes their shirts with her sweat. And their future is secure until the Ice Age, and the root sits in their heart. And when you grow up and want to do something, body and soul, they pay you, brainwash you, label you, and sell you at a high price, and you’re not even free to fail.
MAE: But tell me what’s getting you down.
GARGA: You can’t help me.
MAE: I can help you. Don’t run away from your father. How are we going to live?
GARGA giving her money: I’ve been fired. But here’s enough money for six months.
MAE: We’re worried about not hearing from your sister. We hope she’s still got her job.
GARGA: I don’t know. I advised her to leave the yellow man.
MAE: I know you won’t let me talk to you the way other mothers do.
GARGA: Oh, all those other people, the many good people, all the many other good people who stand at their lathes and earn their bread and make all the good tables for all the many good bread eaters; all the many good table makers and bread eaters with their many good families, so many, whole armies of them, and nobody spits in their soup, and nobody sends them into the next world with a good kick in the pants, and no flood comes over them to the tune of ‘Stormy the night and the sea runs high’.3
MAE: Oh, George!
GARGA: No! Don’t Oh, George me! I don’t like it, and I don’t want to hear it any more.
MAE: You don’t want to hear it any more? But what about me? How am I to live? With these filthy walls and a stove that won’t last through the winter.
GARGA: It’s plain as day, Mother. Nothing can last long now, neither the stove nor the walls.
MAE: How can you say that? Are you blind?
GARGA: And neither will the bread in the cupboard or the dress on your back, and neither will your daughter for that matter.
MAE: Sure, go ahead and shout, so everybody can hear. How everything is useless and anything that takes an effort is too much and wears you down. But how am I to live? And I’ve still got so much time ahead of me.
GARGA: If it’s as bad as all that, speak up. What makes it so bad?
MAE: You know.
GARGA: Yes, I know.
MAE: But the way you say that! What do you think I said? I won’t have you looking at me like that. I gave you birth and fed you milk, I gave you bread and beat you, so don’t look at me like that. A husband is what he wants to be, I won’t say a word to him. He has worked for us.
GARGA: I want you to come with me.
MAE: What’s that?
GARGA: Come south with me. I’ll work, I can cut down trees. We’ll build a log cabin and you’ll cook for me. I need you terribly.
MAE: Who are you saying that to? The wind? When you come back, you can come by and see where we spent our last days. Pause. When are you leaving?
GARGA: Now.
MAE: Don’t say anything to them. I’ll get your things together and put your bundle under the stairs.
GARGA: Thank you.
MAE: Don’t mention it.
Both go out.
Worm enters cautiously and sniffs around the room.
MANKY: Hey, who’s there? Comes in with John.
WORM: Me, a gentleman. Mr Garga, I presume? Mr John Garga?
MANKY: What do you want?
WORM: Me? Nothing. Could I speak to your son – I mean, if he’s had his bath?
JOHN: What’s it all about?
WORM sa
dly shaking his head: What inhospitality! If it’s not too much of an effort, could you tell me where your excellent son is taking his nap?
JOHN: He’s gone away. Go to the devil. This isn’t an information bureau.
Mae enters.
WORM: Too bad! Too bad! We miss your son terribly, sir. And it’s about your daughter, too, in case you’re interested.
MAE: Where is she?
WORM: In a Chinese hotel, milady, in a Chinese hotel.
JOHN: What?
MAE: Holy Mary!
MANKY: What’s the meaning of this? What’s she doing there?
WORM: Nothing, just eating. Mr Shlink wants me to tell you and your son that he should come and get her. She’s too expensive, it’s running into money, the lady’s got a healthy appetite. She doesn’t lift a finger. But she pursues us with immoral propositions. She’s demoralizing the hotel. She’ll have the police after us.
MAE: John!
WORM shouting: We’re sick of her.
MAE: Christ!
MANKY: Where is she? I’ll get her right away.
WORM: Sure, you’ll get her. Are you a bird dog? How do you know where the hotel is? You young fool! It’s not so simple. You should have kept an eye on the lady. It’s all your son’s fault. Tell him to call for the bitch and kindly look after her. Or tomorrow night we’ll get the police on the move.
MAE: Good God. Just tell us where she is. I don’t know where my son is. He’s gone away. Don’t be hard-hearted. Oh, Mary! John, plead with him. What’s happened to Mary? What’s happening to me? Oh, George! John, what a city this is! What people! Goes out.
Shlink appears in the doorway.
WORM mutters in a fright: Yes, I …this place has two entrances… Sneaks out.
SHLINK simply: My name is Shlink. I used to be a lumber dealer, now I catch flies. I’m all alone in the world. Can you rent me a place to sleep? I’ll pay board. On the door plate downstairs I recognized the name of a man I know.
MANKY: Your name is Shlink? You’re the man who’s been holding these people’s daughter.
SHLINK: Who’s that?
JOHN: Mary Garga, sir. My daughter, Mary Garga.
SHLINK: Don’t know her. I don’t know your daughter.
JOHN: The gentleman who was just here …
MANKY: Sent by you, I presume.
JOHN: Who slipped away the moment you came in.
SHLINK: I don’t know the gentleman.
JOHN: But you and my son…
SHLINK: You’re making fun of a poor man. Of course there’s no danger in insulting me. I’ve gambled away my fortune; often you don’t know how these things happen.
MANKY: What I say is, when I steer my ship into port, I know my channel.
JOHN: You can’t trust anybody.
SHLINK: Lonely through sheer bungling at an age when the ground must close if snow is not to fall into the crevices, I see you deserted by your breadwinner. I’m not without compassion; and if you’ll keep me, my work will have a purpose.
JOHN: Reasons won’t fill anybody’s stomach. We’re not beggars. We can’t eat fish heads. But our hearts aren’t made of stone, we feel for your loneliness. Your elbows want to rest on a family table. We’re poor people.
SHLINK: I like everything, I can digest gravel.
JOHN: It’s a small room. We’re already packed in like sardines.
SHLINK: I can sleep on the floor, and a space half my length is good enough for me. I’m as happy as a child as long as my back’s protected from the wind. I’ll pay half the rent.
JOHN: All right, I understand. You don’t want to wait out in the wind. You may share our roof.
MAE comes in: I’ve got to hurry downtown before dark.
JOHN: You’re always gone when I need you. I’m taking this man in. He’s lonely. There’s room now that your son has run away. Shake hands with him.
MAE: Our home was on the prairies.
SHLINK: I know.
JOHN: What are you doing in the corner?
MAE: I’m making up my bed under the stairs.
JOHN: Where’s your bundle?
SHLINK: I have nothing. I’ll sleep on the stairs, ma’am. I won’t intrude. My hand will never touch you. I know the skin on it is yellow.
MAE coldly: I’ll give you mine.
SHLINK: I don’t deserve it. I meant what I said. I know you didn’t mean your skin. Forgive me.
MAE: I open the window over the stairs at night. Goes out.
JOHN: She’s a good soul under that skin.
SHLINK: God bless her. I’m a simple man, don’t expect words from my mouth. I’ve only teeth in it.
4
Chinese Hotel
The Morning of 24 August
Skinny, Baboon and Jane.
SKINNY in the doorway: Aren’t you even thinking of starting a new business?
BABOON lying in a hammock, shakes his head: All the boss does is walk along the waterfront, checking the passengers on the ships bound for Tahiti. Some fellow has run off with his soul and his entire fortune, maybe to Tahiti. It’s him he’s looking for. He’s brought what was left of his belongings for safekeeping, down to the last cigar butt. Referring to Jane: And he’s been feeding this here free of charge for the last three weeks. He’s even taken the fellow’s sister in. What he means to do with her is a mystery to me. He often sits up all night, talking to her.
SKINNY: You’ve let him put you out in the street, and now you feed him and his hangers-on too?
BABOON: He makes a few dollars hauling coal, but he gives them to the fellow’s family; he’s taken up lodging with them, but he can’t live there, they don’t like having him around. That fellow really took him for a ride. He got himself a cheap trip to Tahiti and hung a tree trunk over the boss’s head that’s likely to come crashing down any minute; because in five months at the most they’re going to drag him into court for selling the same lumber twice.
SKINNY: And you bother to feed a wreck like that?
BABOON: He had to have his little joke. A man like him can always get credit. If that fellow stays lost, the boss will be back at the top of the lumber business in three months.
JANE half dressed, making up: I’ve always thought I’d end up like this: in a Chinese flophouse.
BABOON: You’ve no idea what’s in store for you.
Two voices are heard from behind a screen.
MARY: Why don’t you ever touch me? Why are you always wearing that smoky sack? I’ve got a suit for you, like other men wear. I can’t sleep; I love you.
JANE: Pst! Listen! You can hear them again.
SHLINK: I am unworthy. I don’t know anything about virgins. And I’ve been conscious of the smell of my race for years.
MARY: Yes, it’s a bad smell. Yes, it’s bad.
SHLINK: Why cut yourself in pieces like that? Look: My body is numb, it even affects my skin. Man’s skin in its natural state is too thin for this world, that’s why people do their best to make it thicker.4 The method would be satisfactory if the growth could be stopped. A piece of leather, for instance, stays the way it is, but a man’s skin grows, it gets thicker and thicker.
MARY: Is it because you can’t find an opponent?
SHLINK: In the first stage a table has edges; later on, and that’s the nasty part of it, the same table is like rubber, but in the thick-skinned stage there’s neither table nor rubber.
MARY: How long have you had this disease?
SHLINK: Since I was a boy on the rowboats on the Yangtze Kiang. The Yangtze tortured the junks and the junks tortured us. There was a man who trampled our faces every time he stepped into the boat. At night we were too lazy to move our faces away. Somehow the man was never too lazy. We in turn had a cat to torture. She was drowned while learning to swim, though she’d eaten the rats that were all over us. All those people had the disease.
MARY: When were you on the Yangtze Kiang?
SHLINK: We lay in the reeds in the early morning and felt the disease growing.
&
nbsp; WORM enters: The wind has swallowed the fellow. There’s neither hide nor hair of him in all Chicago.
SHLINK: You’d better get some sleep. Steps out. Still no news?
Shlink goes out; through the open door the sound of Chicago waking is heard, the shouts of the milkmen, the rumbling of meat waggons.
MARY: Chicago is waking up. The shouting of milkmen, the rumbling of meat waggons, the newspapers and the fresh morning air. It would be good to go away, it’s good to wash in water, there’s something good about the prairie and the asphalt.5 Right now, for instance, there’s surely a cool wind in the prairies where we used to live.
BABOON: Do you still know your shorter catechism, Jane? JANE droning: Things are getting worse, things are getting worse, things are getting worse.
They begin to straighten the room, pull up the blinds, and stand the sleeping mats up.
MARY: For my part, I’m a little out of breath. I want to sleep with a man and I don’t know how. Some women are like dogs, yellow and black ones. But I can’t do it. I’m all torn apart. These walls are like paper. You can’t breathe. You’ve got to set it all on fire. Where are the matches, a black box, to make the water come in. Oh, if I swim away, I’ll be in two parts, swimming in two different directions.
JANE: Where has he gone?
BABOON: He’s looking into the faces of all the people who are leaving town because Chicago’s too cruel.
JANE: There’s an east wind. The Tahiti-bound ships are weighing anchor.
5
Same Hotel
A month later, 19 or 20 September
A filthy bedroom. A hall. A glass-enclosed bar. Worm, George Garga, Manky and Baboon.
WORM from the hall towards the bar: He never sailed after all. The harpoon is in deeper than we thought. We thought the earth had swallowed him up. But now he’s in Shlink’s room, licking his wounds.
GARGA in the bedroom: That dog Shlink. ‘In my dreams I call him my infernal bridegroom.6 We are parted from bed and board, he has no room any more. His little bride smokes stogies, and tucks money away in her stocking.’ That’s me! Laughs.
MANKY in the bar behind the glass partition: Life is strange. I knew a man who was really tops, but he loved a woman. Her family was starving. He had two thousand dollars, but he let them starve before his eyes. Because with those two thousand dollars he loved the woman, without them he couldn’t get her. That was infamous, but he can’t be held responsible.
Bertolt Brecht: Mutter Courage und ihre Kinder 1 Page 15
