Ruined

by Lynn Nottage

  MAMA AND SOPHIE (Sing):Hey, monsieur, come play, monsieur,

  Hey, monsieur, come play, monsieur,

  (Sophie leads a spent Josephine to the back.)

  MAMA:The door never closes at Mama’s place.

  The door never closes at Mama’s place.

  (Mr. Harari nurses a beer as he watches Sophie and Mama sing. Christian, drunk and disheveled, struggles to remain erect.)

  MAMA (Sings):The door never closes at Mama’s place.

  (Soldier laughter. Distant gunfire.)

  Scene 2

  Lights fade. The back room.

  Josephine sleeps. Salima quickly pulls down her shirt hiding her pregnant stomach as Mama enters eating a mango.

  MAMA (To Salima): Are you going to hang here in the shadows until forever? I have thirsty miners with a good day in their pockets.

  SALIMA: Sorry, Mama, but—

  MAMA: I need one of you to go make them happy, show them their hard work isn’t for naught. (Clicks her tongue) C’mon. C’mon.

  SALIMA (Whispered): But …

  MAMA: Josephine!

  JOSEPHINE: Ah! Why is it always me?

  (Josephine rises. She exits in a huff, brushing past Sophie, who is just entering after bathing. Salima nervously looks to the door.)

  SALIMA: Is Fortune still outside?

  MAMA: Your husband? Yes. He’s still standing there, he couldn’t be more quiet than if he were a stake driven into the ground. I don’t like quiet men.

  SALIMA: He’s always been so.

  MAMA: Well, I wish he wouldn’t be “so” outside of my door.

  (Salima involuntarily smiles.)

  SALIMA: Why won’t he go already? I don’t want him to see me.

  SOPHIE: He’s not leaving until he sees you, Salima.

  (Sophie dresses.)

  MAMA: Ha. What for? So he can turn his lip up at her again.

  SOPHIE: No. C’mon, he’s been out there for two nights. If he doesn’t love you, why would he still be there.

  SALIMA: Yeah?

  MAMA: Tst! Both of you are so stupid. He’ll see you, love will flood into his eyes, he’ll tell you everything you want to hear, and then one morning, I know how it happens, he will begin to ask ugly questions, but he won’t be able to hear the answers. And no matter what you say, he won’t be satisfied. I know. And, chérie, don’t look away from me, will you be able to tell him the truth? Huh? We know, don’t we? The woman he loved is dead.

  SOPHIE: That’s not true. He—

  MAMA (To Salima): He left her for dead. See. This is your home now. Mama takes care of you.

  (Mama takes Salima in her arms.)

  But if you want to go back out there, go. But they, your village, your people, they won’t understand. Oh, they’ll say they will, but they won’t. Because, you know, underneath everything, they will be thinking she’s damaged. She’s been had by too many men. She let them, those dirty men, touch her. She’s a whore. And Salima, are you strong enough to stomach their hate? It will be worse than anything you’ve felt yet.

  SOPHIE: But he—

  MAMA: I’m not being cruel, but your simple life, the one you remember, that … Yeah the one you’re so fond of … it’s vapor, chérie. It’s gone.

  (Tears flood Salima’s eyes.)

  Now, uh-uh, don’t cry. We keep our faces pretty. I will send him away. Okay? Okay?

  SALIMA: Okay.

  MAMA: We’ll make him go away. Yeah?

  SALIMA: Okay. Good.

  SOPHIE: No, Mama, please, let her at least talk to him. He wants to take her home.

  MAMA: You read too many of those romance novels where everything is forgiven with a kiss. Enough, my miners are waiting.

  (Mama suspiciously eyes Salima’s belly and exits.)

  SOPHIE: If you don’t want to see him, then at least go out there and tell him. He’s been sitting outside in the rain for two days, and he’s not going to leave.

  SALIMA: Let him sit.

  SOPHIE: Go, talk to him. Maybe you’ll feel differently.

  SALIMA: He doesn’t know that I’m pregnant. When he sees me, he’ll hate me all over again.

  SOPHIE: You don’t know that. He came all this way.

  (A moment.)

  SALIMA: Stupid man. Why did he have to come?

  SOPHIE: All you ever talk about is wanting to get away from here. Go with him, Salima. Get the hell out of here! Go!

  SALIMA: He called me a filthy dog, and said I tempted them. Why else would it happen? Five months in the bush, passed between the soldiers like a wash rag. Used. I was made poison by their fingers, that is what he said. He had no choice but to turn away from me, because I dishonored him.

  SOPHIE: He was hurting. It was sour pride.

  SALIMA: Why are you defending him!? Then you go with him!

  SOPHIE: I’m not def—

  SALIMA: Do you know what I was doing on that morning? (A calm washes over her) I was working in our garden, picking the last of the sweet tomatoes. I put Beatrice down in the shade of a frangipani tree, because my back was giving me some trouble. Forgiven? Where was Fortune? He was in town fetching a new iron pot. “Go,” I said. “Go, today, man, or you won’t have dinner tonight!” I had been after him for a new pot for a month. And finally on that day the damn man had to go and get it. A new pot. The sun was about to crest, but I had to put in another hour before it got too hot. It was such a clear and open sky. This splendid bird, a peacock, had come into the garden to taunt me, and was showing off its feathers. I stooped down and called to the bird: “Wssht, Wssht.” And I felt a shadow cut across my back, and when I stood four men were there over me, smiling, wicked schoolboy smiles. “Yes?” I said. And the tall soldier slammed the butt of his gun into my cheek. Just like that. It was so quick, I didn’t even know I’d fallen to the ground. Where did they come from? How could I not have heard them?

  SOPHIE: You don’t have to—

  SALIMA: One of the soldiers held me down with his foot. He was so heavy, thick like an ox and his boot was cracked and weathered like it had been left out in the rain for weeks. His boot was pressing my chest and the cracks in the leather had the look of drying sorghum. His foot was so heavy, and it was all I could see as the others … “took” me. My baby was crying. She was a good baby. Beatrice never cried, but she was crying, screaming. “Shhh,” I said. “Shhh.” And right then … (Closes her eyes) A soldier stomped on her head with his boot. And she was quiet.

  (A moment. Salima releases:)

  Where was everybody? WHERE WAS EVERYBODY?!

  (Sophie hugs Salima.)

  SOPHIE: It’s okay. Take a breath.

  SALIMA: I fought them!

  SOPHIE: I know.

  SALIMA: I did!

  SOPHIE: I know.

  SALIMA: But they still took me from my home. They took me through the bush—raiding thieves. Fucking demons! “She is for everyone, soup to be had before dinner,” that is what someone said. They tied me to a tree by my foot, and the men came whenever they wanted soup. I make fires, I cook food, I listen to their stupid songs, I carry bullets, I clean wounds, I wash blood from their clothing, and, and, and … I lay there as they tore me to pieces, until I was raw … five months. Five months. Chained like a goat. These men fighting … fighting for our liberation. Still I close my eyes and I see such terrible things. Things I cannot stand to have in my head. How can men be this way?

  (A moment.)

  It was such a clear and open sky. So, so beautiful. How could I not hear them coming?

  SOPHIE: Those men were on a path and we were there. It happened.

  SALIMA: A peacock wandered into my garden, and the tomatoes were ripe beyond belief. Our fields of red sorghum were so perfect, it was going to be a fine season. Fortune thought so, too, and we could finally think about planning a trip on the ferry to visit his brother. Oh God please give me back that morning. “Forget the pot, Fortune. Stay …” “Stay,” that’s what I would tell him. What did I do, Sophie? I must have done somethi
ng. How did I get in the middle of their fight?

  SOPHIE: You were picking sweet tomatoes. That’s all. You didn’t do anything wrong.

  (Sophie kisses Salima on the cheek.)

  SALIMA: It isn’t his baby. It’s the child of a monster, and there’s no telling what it will be. Now, he’s willing to forgive me, and is it that simple, Sophie? But what happens when the baby is born, will he be able to forgive the child, will I? And, and … and even if I do, I don’t think I’ll be able to forgive him.

  SOPHIE: You can’t know that until you speak to him.

  SALIMA: I walked into the family compound expecting wide open arms. An embrace. Five months, suffering. I suffered every single second of it. And my family gave me the back of their heads. And he, the man I loved since I was fourteen, chased me away with a green switch. He beat my ankles raw. And I dishonored him? I dishonored him?! Where was he? Buying a pot? He was too proud to bear my shame … but not proud enough to protect me from it. Let him sit in the rain.

  SOPHIE: Is that really what you want?

  SALIMA: Yes.

  SOPHIE: He isn’t going to leave.

  SALIMA: Then I’m sorry for him.

  (The lights shift to moonlight.)

  Scene 3

  Rain, moonlight. Outside the bar, Fortune stands in the rain. His posture is erect. Music and laughter pour out of the bar. Mama seductively stands in the doorway. She watches Fortune for a moment.

  MAMA: The sky doesn’t look like it’s gonna let up for a long time. My mama used to say, “Careful of the cold rain, it carries more men to their death than a storm of arrows.” FORTUNE: Why won’t you let me see her?

  MAMA: Young man, the woman you’re looking for isn’t here. But if you want company, I have plenty of that. What do you like? (Seductively) I know the challenges of a soldier’s life, I hear stories from men every day. And there’s nothing better than a gentle hand to pluck out the thorns, and heal the heart.

  (Mama runs her hand up her thigh. She laughs. Fortune turns away, disgusted. Mama smiles.)

  FORTUNE: Please … tell my wife, I love her.

  MAMA: Yeah. Yeah. I’ve heard it before. You’re not the first man to come here for his wife. But, Soldier, are you sure this is the place you want to be looking for her?

  FORTUNE: Here. Give this to her.

  (Fortune lifts an iron pot.)

  MAMA: A pot?

  (Mama laughs.)

  FORTUNE: Yes, please. Just give it to her.

  MAMA: Very charming. A pot. Is this how you intend to woo a woman?

  (Fortune shoves it into her hands.)

  You’re a nice-looking young man. You seem decent. Go from here. Take care of your land and your mother.

  (Two tipsy Government Soldiers tumble out of the bar.)

  GOVERNMENT SOLDIER #2: Just one more time. One. More. Time.

  GOVERNMENT SOLDIER #3: Shut up! That girl doesn’t want you.

  GOVERNMENT SOLDIER #2: Oh yes, she do. She don’t know it, but she do.

  (Drunk, Government Soldier #2 crumples to the ground. Government Soldier #3 finds this hysterically funny.)

  MAMA (To Fortune): Go home. Have I made myself clear?

  (Mama goes into the bar. Fortune fumes.)

  FORTUNE (To Soldier #3): Idiot! Pick him up! God is watching you.

  (Soldier #3 lifts up his friend, as Simon, out of breath, comes running up to Fortune. Josephine seductively fills the doorway.)

  JOSEPHINE: Ay! Ay! Don’t leave me so soon. Where are you going?

  SIMON: Fortune! Fortune!

  (The two Soldiers disappear into the night.)

  JOSEPHINE: Come back! Let me show you something sweet and pretty. Come.

  (Josephine laughs.)

  SIMON: Fortune! (He doubles-over out of breath) The commander is gathering everyone. We march out tomorrow morning. The militia is moving on the next village.

  FORTUNE: What about Salima? I can’t leave her.

  SIMON: But we have our orders. We have to go.

  JOSEPHINE (Seductively): Hello, baby. Come say hello to me.

  SIMON (His face lights up): God help me, look at that sweetness.

  (Simon licks his lips. Josephine does several down-and-dirty pelvic thrusts. Fortune tries not to smile.)

  Quick. Let me hold some money, so I can go inside and talk to this good-time girl. C’mon, c’mon … c’mon, Fortune. (To Josephine) What’s your name?

  JOSEPHINE: Josephine. Come inside, baby.

  FORTUNE: Don’t let the witch tempt you.

  (Josephine laughs and disappears inside.)

  SIMON: Let’s enjoy ourselves, man, tonight … At least let me have one more taste of pleasure. A little taste. Just the tip of my tongue. C’mon, man, let me hold some money. (Laughs)

  (Fortune does not respond. He silently prays.)

  How long are you gonna do this? Huh? We’ve been up and down the road. It’s time to consider that maybe she’s dead.

  FORTUNE: Then leave!

  (Simon, frustrated, starts to go.)

  SIMON: This makes no sense. You can’t stay here, the rebel militia are moving this way. And if they find you, they’ll kill you. We have to go by morning, with or without her.

  FORTUNE: Go!

  SIMON: Are you sure? You’re becoming like Emmanuel Bwiza whose wife drowned in the river when we were children. Remember, the old fool got drunk on bitterness and lost heself. Look here, Fortune, the men are making a joke of you. They’re saying, “Why won’t the man just take another woman.” “Why is he chasing a damaged girl?”

  (Fortune, enraged, grabs Simon around the neck. The friends struggle.)

  FORTUNE (Challenges): Say it again!

  SIMON: It is not me saying it. It is the other men in the brigade.

  FORTUNE: Who?

  SIMON: If I tell you, are you going to fight all of them?

  FORTUNE: Tell me who!

  SIMON: Everyone. Every damn one of them. Okay.

  (Fortune releases Simon.)

  Man, mavi yako! It’s time to forget her. I’m your cousin, and for three months I’ve been walking with you, right? Got dirty, got bloody with you. But now, I’m begging you, stop looking. It’s time.

  FORTUNE: No, I’ve prayed on this.

  SIMON: Come out of the rain. We’ll go inside and spend the last of our money, and forget her. C’mon, Fortune. Let’s get stupid drunk. Huh? Huh? C’mon.

  (Simon tries to drag Fortune into the bar. Fortune resists. Fuming, he raises his fist to Simon.)

  If you are angry, then be angry at the men who took her. Think about how they did you, they reached right into your pocket and stole from you. I know Salima since we were children. I love her the same as you. She’d want you to avenge her honor. That is the only way to heal your soul.

  (Fortune contemplates his words.)

  FORTUNE: Kill?

  SIMON: Yes.

  (Fortune laughs ironically.)

  FORTUNE: We are farmers. What are we doing? They tell us shoot and we shoot. But for what are we getting? Salima? A better crop? No, man, we’re moving further and further away from home. I want my wife! That’s all. I want my family.

  SIMON: The commander gave us orders to kill all deserters.

  FORTUNE: Are you going to kill me?

  (A moment.)

  SIMON: I wouldn’t have said it a month ago, but I’ll say it now. She’s gone.

  (Simon walks off into the darkness. Fortune stands outside the bar in the pouring rain. Gunfire. A firefight. The sounds of the forest.)

  Scene 4

  The bar. Christian, drunk and haggard, is in the middle of an energetic story. He stands at the bar nursing a beer. Mr. Harari, Sophie and Mama stand around listening.

  CHRISTIAN (With urgency): No, no, no … listen, listen to me, I’ve just come from there, and it’s true. I saw a boy, take a machete to a man, sever his neck, a clean blow, and lift the head in the air like a trophy. May God be my witness. Men were hollering: “We strong warriors, we taste victo
ry. We will kill!”

  MAMA: Shh, keep it down?!

  CHRISTIAN: Oh shit, my hand, my hand is still shaking. This … this man Osembenga is evil. He plays at democracy. This word we bandy about, “democracy,” and the first opportunity we get, we spit on our neighbors and why? Because he has cattle and I don’t. Because he is and I am not. But nobody has and nobody will have, except for men like you, Mr. Harari, who have the good sense to come and go, and not give a damn.

  MAMA: Oh, hush up.

  CHRISTIAN: But we have to pretend that all this ugliness means nothing. We wash the blood off with buckets of frigid water, and whitewash our walls. Our leaders tell us: “Follow my rules, your life will be better,” their doctors say, “Take this pill, your life will be better,” “Plant these seeds, your life will better,”“Read this book, your life will be better,” “Kill your neighbor, your life will be better—”

  MAMA: Stop. Take it outside. You know I don’t allow this talk in here. My doors are open to everybody. And that way trouble doesn’t settle here.

  CHRISTIAN: Well, someone has to say it, otherwise what? We let it go on. Huh?

  MAMA: Professor, enough! Stop it now. Leave the philosophizing and preaching to the wretched politicians. I mean it! I won’t have it here!

  CHRISTIAN: One day it will be at your door, Mama.

  MAMA: And then I’ll shut it. People come here to leave behind what ever mess they’ve made out there. That includes you, professor.

  (Two Rebel Soldiers, fresh from battle, appear from the back of the bar in various stages of undress. Josephine and Kisembe, doped-up and on edge, also enter from the back. Kisembe has scary unpredictable energy. Josephine buttons his shirt. He pushes her away.)

  Sophie, turn on the music.

  (Sophie turns on the radio. Congolese hip-hop music plays. Christian attempts to disappear behind his drink. Sophie stands behind the bar, drying glasses, trying not to be noticed. Mama walks over to greet the men. The Parrot squawks.)

  Colonel Kisembe, I hope my girls gave you good company.

  KISEMBE: Very. It is good to be back, Mama. Where’s everyone?

  MAMA: You tell me. It’s been this way for a week. I haven’t seen but a handful of miners. I bake bread and it goes stale.