José María Heredia
Raúl Kastro (also on the Malecón)
Fernando González Esteva
Zebro Sardoya
An announcer
Primigenio Florido
A chorus of children
Bastón Dacuero
Chorus of poetesses:
Angel Gastaluz (This character possesses, by papal bull, the gift of omnipresence, so throughout the work s/he is able to be in several places at the same time if s/he so desires.)
The Mayor of Miami
The President of the United States
A leading politician
The female editor of a fashion magazine
Kilo Abierto Montamier
A prizewinning poetess
A congressman from the state of Ohio
The Attorney General
The Bishop of Miami
Ye-Ye, a.k.a. PornoPop, The Only Remaining Go-Go Fairy
Queen in Cuba (who also possesses the gift of omnipresence, bestowed by St. Nelly)
Mariano Brull
A society lady from Miami
An old woman
A priest
A nun
A female professor of literature
Another poetess (who’s awarded herself her own prize)
An astrologer
Alta Grave de Peralta
A woman wearing a great deal of jewelry
A university type
The director of a Cuban museum (in exile)
Andrés Reynaldo
Chorus in Key West:
Three thousand poetesses, professors of Latin, hundreds of aspirants to the office of the presidency of Cuba, and other notable politicians; sometimes includes the entire population of Key West, sometimes subdivided into small choruses.
CREDITS, HAVANA LOCATION:
Director: Fifo
Makeup and Choreography:
Raúl Kastro
Resurrections:
Oscar Horcayés
Music: Cuban National Symphony Orchestra, under the direction of Manuel Gracia Markoff, a.k.a. Yechface and the Marquesa de Macondo.
KEY WEST LOCATION :
Director: Moscoso
Makeup and choreography:
Kilo Abierto Montamier
Resurrections:
Alta Grave de Peralta
Music: The Guadalajara Symphony Orchestra, under the direction of Octavio Plá, a.k.a. (according to lies told by Tomás Borge) Fray Nobel.
The action begins in Havana, and as the curtain rises Gertrudis Gómez de Avellaneda, who has been brought back to life on Fifo’s orders so that she will be able to take part in the festivities honoring Fifo’s fiftieth year in power, escapes in a little fishing boat and heads for Florida. Learning instantly about the escape, Fifo sends out orders for her arrest, but realizing almost in the same breath that an arrest would cause an international scandal, he orders the people of Cuba to stage an act of repudiation against the poetess, while secretly ordering his trained sharks and diligent midgets to do everything in their power to block her flight. The act of repudiation begins with the appearance of a group of eminent poets who are still on the Island, some of whom have been brought back to life especially for this event. The idea is that all these poets will be able to persuade Avellaneda not to leave the country. On Fifo’s orders, they will throw at the fleeing poetess large quantities of rotten eggs, which thousands of midgets have piled along the edge of the ocean. Meanwhile, although at first it isn’t clear where Avellaneda is headed (the part about “headed for Florida” was a taunt flung by Radio Aguado), the Cuban poets in exile, including some brought back to life for this event, decide to have a huge demonstration on the southernmost tip of the United States (i.e., Key West) in order to encourage Avellaneda and show their moral support for her. In addition to reciting a great number of poems dedicated to her, they shower her with candy bars, California apples, bonbons, and even fake pearls.
AVELLANEDA: (On the Malecón in Havana, throwing a small, frail boat into the water)
Pearl of the ocean! Star of the West!
Once glorious isle,
now pain in the ass!
I’ve had it up to here with you! Farewell!
I mean, Adios!
And a thousand times adios,
for tell me, how is one supposed
to put up with this mess?
See these big ugly bags under my eyes?
I haven’t slept for days, because
this brilliant sky of yours, no longer does
Night cover with her sable veil—and so I’m off!
Don’t try to stop me! The ubiquitous mob
has forced me to flee my native land.
Adios, once happy homeland, beloved Eden
where even Numero Uno, the head hoodlum,
has to keep one eye on his behind.
No more of this for me; I’ve made up my mind!
(Plus—however far and wide I searched, however hard I tried I never found the man to make me bride.)
Into the boat! Hope swells my ample breast!
Florida awaits. Next stop—Key West!
She clambers into the dinghy and begins to row quickly away. Avellaneda is a heavyset woman swathed in a long black nineteenth-century gown and wearing an equally black veil that covers her face. Upon seeing this bizarre figure, all the sharks swim away, howling— piteously. The midgets also recoil in fright, and then whirl around and head back toward the coast. Fifo has no choice but to trust that the act of repudiation, which he orders to begin at once, will work.
Halisia Jalonzo, entering STAGE LEFT, inaugurates the act of repudiation.She is carrying a huge ostrich egg. The truth is, Jalonzo ought not to be in the part of the ceremony devoted to poets, but once she gets something in her head, honey, nobody can do a thing with her—plus, we mustn’t forget that she just had her hundredth birthday, or so they say. Still, it’s not right—and we’ll be sure René Tavernier (R.I.P.), the president of the PEN Club, hears about this.
HALISIA JALONZO:
Go then, witch! Good riddance to bad rubbish!
And don’t come back, ingrate Gertrudis!
(No way this flight is her idea.
Behind it all, I know, is Plizescaya—
my nemesis, the cunning Plizescaya.)
Go—we’ll all be better off without ya!
She raises the huge ostrich egg and throws it into the sea, making an enormous splash (for the first time in years, honey!) and raising columns of water that drench Avellaneda.
AVELLANEDA: (dripping wet, but still rowing; to HALISIA)
The show you make makes crystal clear
that you’re in Fifo’s pay, my dear
whoring, as always, for that “art” of yours.
Some art! You haven’t really danced in years.
Farewell, I leave you in Fifo’s keeping,
in lands of misery and weeping,
while I depart to seek my freedom.
Before I go, though, I just want to say:
it breaks my heart to see you sell yourself this way—
(though at your age, and in the shape you’re in, you kind of have to stay. . .)
but good luck, Halisia, anyway—
and as they say in show biz, sweetie, break a leg!
Oh, and thank you for the egg.
Halisia Jalonzo, an expression of defeat on her face, takes out a huge magnifying glass and peers through it at Avellaneda’s bosom, which swells to ENORMOUS proportions. Unable to control herself, but to herself alone, she speaks these lines:
HALISIA JALONZO:
Go on—paddle off, you decrepit old hag,
leave me here to hold the bag,
an old, blind, crippled, washed-up prima ballerina
that can’t work up the nerve to say what’s really in her. . . .
Just then, one of the muscular midgets gives Virgilio Piñera a nudge (a shove)so he’ll get on with his part of the act of repudiation. The poet, trembling miserably, climbs up
on the wall on the Malecón and, looking seaward, quietly muses:
VIRGILIO PIÑERA:
The dratted circumstance of water, water everywhere
exhorts you, dear friend, to flee, to fly—get out of here.
Oh, I wish that I could join you! But this double-crossing queer
(Miss Coco Salas) has been assigned to keep an eye on me, for fear
that I might try it.
So woe is me! I cannot fly! I cannot flee!
And to top it off, they say tonight
Fifo’s thugs are going to take my life.
The order’s out, the die is cast, the time is ripe.
And so—
spied upon, spat upon, and hooted,
malnourished, impoverished, barefooted,
watching you sail into the west
while I wait to greet my death,
I raise my glass in tribute to you—
We who are about to die salute you.
(Avellaneda looks back in concern, hesitates.)
No, Gertrudis, don’t look back. Forget I said that, dear—
Don’t let the dratted circumstance of water, water everywhere
get to you. Be you, be free, be all that you can be—
Flee this horrid Island! Flee!—Godspeed!
FIFO: (enraged)
What’s that old faggot that I’m going to screw tonight muttering?
VIRGILIO PIÑERA: (desperately raising his voice to a shout, and changing his tune)
Don’t go, Avellaneda—take my advice.
You’re better off here by far.
If you go North you’ll pay the price:
here, at least you’re a star.
I beg you—reconsider, dear;
the Island’s awfully nice.
Turn back now—there’ll be no harm to you;
These dwarves will open their arms to you.
(To himself)
God, how could I write such awful lines!
I can’t believe they’re really mine!
But if I don’t try as hard as I can
to lure Avellaneda back again
I’ll never see tomorrow.
But hold on!
—Didn’t Fifo put out a contract on yours truly?
That’s what I was told, so surely
I’m damned if I do and damned if I don’t!
And then when I’m dead and they’ve buried me,
that horrid Olga Andreu will pray for me
and Arrufat will grab my dictionary and who knows what they’ll say about me—
and who knows what they’ll say about me—
but screw ’em all—
I’ll be vindicated by History, they’ll see!
Virgilio halfheartedly throws a little-bitty kestrel egg, but as luck would have it, it hits Avellaneda right in the eye. Avellaneda, enraged, turns like the basilisk whose glance is fatal and picks up the anchor out of the bottom of her boat and throws it at the crowd on the Malecón, killing a midget—some say a hundred-headed one.
FIFO: (more enraged yet)
No more delay! Do what I say—
torpedo Avellaneda!
Brought back from the grave for this special day,
this is how she repays us!
No more mercy, no more pleas—
blast her out of the waves!
The broadest spot is the best spot to aim—
do it! Bombs away!
Be sure to shoot for the backside, boys! Death to every traitor!
AVELLANEDA:
No, not the backside, seat of inspiration!
Take aim at the fore!
All who read me know my slogan:
I wish all to enter through the front door.
All the participants in the act of repudiation throw rotten eggs at Avellaneda.
CHORUS:
No more mercy, no more pleas—
blast her out of the waves!
The backside’s the best spot to aim,
so do it! Bombs away!
AVELLANEDA:
If that’s the way it’s going to be,
if that’s the way they’re going to treat me,
then I’m glad I decided not to stay.
Clearly, here there’s no home for me,
so I’ll make my getaway . . .
But if I ever get my hands on that Horcayés
that brought me back from the dead,
when I get through with him he’ll need
the finest seamstress in Key West,
to sew back on his head.
Meanwhile, on my rowing let me concentrate—
I think I’m going to have to paddle with both arms and both
feet!
VIRGILIO PIÑERA: (moving away)
Well done! Bravo! Bravo!
You’ve gotbi-i-igfeet
and one heel’s crooked on your shoe . . .
Go—there’s nothing for you here.
Suddenly, seeing that Coco Salas is right behind him with a tape recorder, he turns toward the sea and shouts at the top of his lungs:
VIRGILIO PIÑERA:
Where are you going, you ingrate!
Come back—we’ll forgive you! It’s not too late!
AVELLANEDA: (growing farther and farther away from the Malecón and the harbor)
Ingrate! Ungrateful for what?
That parting shot
to my vulnerable backside?
No thanks, you snot—
I’ll take my chances
in New York or Florida or Kansas.
CHORUS: (standing on the wall of the Malecón)
No more mercy, no more pleas—
blast her out of the waves!
The backside’s the best spot to aim,
so do it! Bombs away!
A new barrage of rotten eggs is launched.
AVELLANEDA: (now pulling into the open sea in a hail of rotten eggs)
What ineffable light, what strange happiness!
Night’s mourning is banished from the skies.
The hour’s come round, the artillery thunders;
fire, fire, fire, you murderers,
fire at this trembling bosom!
Meanwhile, back on shore, Delfín Proust arrives. After first making a quick check of himself in a portable mirror that opens like a huge fan, he makes a grand pirouette and leaps up onto the Malecón. He whirls about several times, hops like a frog, opens and closes his arms. Prancing about, he begins his poetic discourse:
DELFÍN PROUST:
Where it should be you that grows
a mahogany tree spreads its wide boughs . . .
I grow old . . .
No longer am I the master of my fear and of the city;
I do as I am told.
Conquered are we all; a baleful light claims victory.
And we all grow old.
Of course, to console me there’s always this:
all that you are giving up, I can enjoy on the Hill of the Cross
where it should be you that grows.
Come back, and I’ll take you personally to Tina Parecía Mirruz.
Delfín Proust tosses a mahogany-tree seed to Avellaneda, and it falls between her breasts. Avellaneda picks out the seed, gazes upon it sadly, and throws it into the sea. Immediately she becomes animated again.
AVELLANEDA:
From Betis harbor
along the shore
my little ship
sails free.
Rotten eggs
and mahogany seeds
shall never, ever
deflect me
from my chosen course.
So row, row, kindly oars–
man, for the morn–
ing sun doth rise.
And I hie me to other shores.
The sound of barking is heard. A bulldog appears, walking on its two hind legs with the aid of a huge walking stick. This is the famous Nicolás Guillotina, poet laureate of Cuba, who flaps his enormous ears and shakes his walking stick threateningly at
the fleeing poetess.
NICOLÁS GUILLOTINA: (to a tune from Gilbert and Sullivan)
Flee this Island thou shalt not!
The Party, Miss Smarty, calls the shots,
and the Party has decided
that here with us thou shalt abide!
Ta-ra-ra, thou shalt not!
The Color of Summer: or The New Garden of Earthly Delights Page 3
