Ruined

by Lynn Nottage

  SALIMA: So why do you care if I look at them?

  SOPHIE: Atsha, makelle. Let her see it, Josephine. Let’s not have the same argument.

  JOSEPHINE: There.

  SALIMA (Whispered): Bitch.

  JOSEPHINE: What?

  SALIMA: Thank you.

  JOSEPHINE: Yeah, that’s what I thought.

  (Josephine tosses the magazine at Salima.)

  Girl, I really should charge you for all the times your dirty fingers fuss with it. (Sucks her teeth)

  SOPHIE: Oh, give us peace, she doesn’t feel well.

  JOSEPHINE: No?

  (Salima, moping, thumbs through the magazine, doing her best to ignore Josephine.)

  SALIMA: The only reason I don’t read is cuz my younger sister get school, and I get good husband.

  JOSEPHINE: So where is he?!

  (Salima ignores her. Josephine turns on the portable radio hanging over her bed.)

  ANNOUNCER (Voice-over): Nous avons reçu des rapports que les bandits armés de Lendu et des groupes rivaux de Hema combattent pour la commande de la ville—

  SALIMA: What’s he say?

  SOPHIE: Lendu and Hema, fighting near Bunia.

  (Josephine quickly turns the radio dial. Congolese hip-hop music plays. She does a few quick suggestive steps, then lights a cigarette.)

  JOSEPHINE: Hey. Hey. Guess what? Guess what? I’m going to Kisangani next month.

  SOPHIE: What?

  JOSEPHINE: Mr. Harari is going to take me. Watch out, chérie, he’s promised to set me up in a high-rise apartment. Don’t hate, all of this fineness belongs in the city.

  SOPHIE: For true?

  JOSEPHINE: What, you think I’m lying?

  SOPHIE: No, no, that’s real cool, Josephine. The big town. You been?

  JOSEPHINE: Me? … No. No. (To Salima) And I know you haven’t.

  SALIMA: How do you know? Huh? I was planning to go some time next year. My husband—

  JOSEPHINE (Sarcastically): What, he was going to sell his yams in the market?

  SALIMA: I’ll ask you not to mention my family.

  JOSEPHINE: And if I do?

  SALIMA: I’m asking you kindly this time.

  (Josephine recognizes the weight of her words but forges on.)

  JOSEPHINE: I’m tired of hearing about your family. (Blows smoke at Salima)

  SALIMA: Mention them again, and I swear to God I’ll beat your ass.

  JOSEPHINE: Yeah?

  SALIMA: Yeah. You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.

  JOSEPHINE: I don’t? All right. I’m stupid! I don’t! You are smarter than all of us. Yeah? That’s what you think, huh? Kiwele wele. You wait, girl. I’ll forgive you, I will, when you say, “Josephine you were so so right.”

  SOPHIE: Just shut up!

  JOSEPHINE: Hey, I’m done.

  (Josephine blows a kiss. Salima, enraged, starts for the door.)

  SOPHIE: Salima, Salima.

  (Salima is gone.)

  JOSEPHINE (Taunting): Salima!

  (Josephine falls on the bed laughing.)

  SOPHIE: What’s wrong with you? What did Salima do to you? You make me sick. (Flicks off the radio)

  JOSEPHINE: Hey, jolie fille. (Makes kissing sounds)

  SOPHIE: Don’t talk to me.

  JOSEPHINE: I can’t talk to you? Who put you on the top shelf? You flutter about here as if God touched only you. What you seem to forget is that this is a whorehouse, chérie.

  SOPHIE: Yeah, but, I’m not a whore.

  JOSEPHINE: A mere trick of fate. I’m sorry, but let me say what we all know, you are something worse than a whore. So many men have had you that you’re worthless.

  (A moment. Sophie, wounded, turns and limps away silently.)

  Am I wrong?

  SOPHIE: … Yes.

  JOSEPHINE: Am I wrong?

  SOPHIE: Yes.

  JOSEPHINE: My father was chief!

  (Sophie is at the door. Josephine confronts her.)

  My father was chief! The most important man in my village, and when the soldiers raided us, who was kind to me? Huh? Not his second wife: “There! She is the chief’s daughter!” Or the cowards who pretended not to know me. And did any of them bring a blanket to cover me, did anyone move to help me? NO! So you see, you ain’t special!

  (The lights fade.)

  Scene 4

  Dusk. The generator hums. Sophie sings. The bar bustles with activity: Miners, Prostitutes, Musicians and Government Soldiers. Laughter. A Miner chats up Salima. Josephine sits at a table with a Soldier.

  SOPHIE (Sings):A rare bird on a limb

  Sings a song heard by a few,

  A few patient and distant listeners

  Hear, its sweet sweet call,

  A sound that haunts the forest,

  A cry that tells a story, harmonious,

  But time forgotten.

  To be seen, is to be doomed

  It must evade, evade capture,

  And yet the bird

  Still cries out to be heard.

  And yet the bird

  Still cries out to be heard.

  And yet the bird

  Still cries out to be heard.

  (Mama enters. She feeds the parrot.)

  MAMA: Hello. Talk to me. You hungry? Yes?

  CHRISTIAN (Entering): Mama!

  (Mama is surprised by Christian. Her face lights up.)

  MAMA: Ah, professor!

  (Mama cracks open a couple of sodas. Christian places a box of chocolates and several cartons of cigarettes on the counter then launches into a poem:)

  CHRISTIAN:The tidal dance,

  A nasty tug of war,

  Two equally implacable partners

  Day fighting night …

  And so forth and so on. Forgive me, I bring you an early poem, but I’m afraid it’s running away from my memory. I still hope one day you will hear the music and dance with me.

  MAMA (Dismissive): You’re a ridiculous man.

  (Mama passes a cold soda to Christian. He blows a kiss to Sophie.)

  CHRISTIAN: Lovely, chérie. It’s what I’ve been waiting for.

  MAMA: You’re the only man I know who doesn’t crave a cold beer at the end of a long drive.

  CHRISTIAN: Last time I had a drink, I lost several years of my life.

  (Mama hands him a list.)

  What’s this?

  MAMA: A list of everything I know you forgot to bring me.

  (Christian examines the list.)

  CHRISTIAN: What? When’d you learn to spell so good?

  MAMA: Oh, close your mouth. Sophie wrote it down. She’s a smart girl, been helping me.

  CHRISTIAN (Teasing): You see how things work out. And you, you wanted to turn her away—

  MAMA: Are you finished?

  (Salima and the Miner laugh and play pool.)

  I looked out for you on Friday. What the hell happened?

  CHRISTIAN: I had to deliver supplies to the mission. Have you heard? Pastor Robbins been missing for a couple days.

  (The Soldier whispers something in Josephine’s ear. She laughs loudly, flirtatiously.)

  I told them I’d ask about.

  MAMA: The white preacher? I’m not surprised. He’s gotta big fucking mouth. The mission’s better off without him. The only thing that old bastard ever did was pass out flaky aspirin and maybe a round of penicillin if you were dying.

  CHRISTIAN: Well, the rumor is the pastor’s been treating wounded rebel soldiers.

  MAMA (Concerned): Really?

  CHRISTIAN: That’s what I’m hearing. Things are getting ugly over that way.

  MAMA: Since when?

  CHRISTIAN: Last week or so. The militias, they’re battling for control of the area. It is impossible.

  MAMA: What about Yaka-yaka mine? Has the fighting scared off the miners?

  CHRISTIAN: I don’t know about the miners, but it’s scaring me.

  (Salima and the Miner laugh.)

  I was just by Yaka-yaka. When I was
there six months ago, it was a forest filled with noisy birds, now it looks like God spooned out heaping mouthfuls of earth, and every stupid bastard is trying to get a taste of it. It’s been ugly, chérie, but never like this. Not here.

  MAMA: No more talk.

  (She’s spooked, but doesn’t want to show it. She signals for the Musicians to play an upbeat song. The song plays softly.)

  There will always be squabbles, ancient and otherwise.

  (Josephine takes the Soldier to the back.)

  Me, I thank God for deep dirty holes like Yaka-yaka. In my house I try to keep everyone happy.

  CHRISTIAN: Don’t fool yourself!

  MAMA: Hey, hey, professor, are you worried about me?

  CHRISTIAN (Gently taking Mama’s hand): Of course, chérie. I am a family man at heart. A lover, baby. We could build a nice business together. I have friends in Kampala, I have friends in Bamako, I even have friends in Paris, the city of love.

  (Mama laughs. She quickly withdraws her hand from Christian. His affection throws her off-balance.)

  MAMA:You …are…a stupid …man …with a running tongue. And look here, I have my own business, and I’m not leaving it for a jackass who doesn’t have enough sense to buy a new suit.

  CHRISTIAN: You are too proud and stubborn, you know that. This is a good suit, très chic, so what if it’s old? And … don’t pretend, chérie, eventually you’ll grace me with … a dance.

  MAMA: Oh, have a cold beer, it’ll flush out some of your foolishness.

  CHRISTIAN: Ach, ach, woman! Liquor is not a dance partner I choose.

  (Christian does a few seductive dance steps, just then Commander Osembenga, a pompous peacock of a man in dark sunglasses, a gold chain and a jogging suit, struts into the bar. He wears a pistol in a harness. He is accompanied by a Government Soldier in uniform. Christian nods deferentially.)

  Monsieur.

  (Osembenga stands erect waiting to be acknowledged. Everyone grows silent.)

  MAMA (Flirtatiously): Good evening.

  OSEMBENGA: It is now.

  (He gives the place a once-over.)

  MAMA: Can I get you something?

  OSEMBENGA: Bring me a cold Primus. A pack of cigarettes, fresh.

  (Mama guides Osembenga to a chair. She signals Sophie to fetch some beer.)

  MAMA: Monsieur, I must ask you to leave your bullets at the bar, otherwise you don’t come in.

  OSEMBENGA: And if I choose not to.

  MAMA: Then you don’t get served. I don’t want any mischief in here. Is that clear?

  (Osembenga, charmed by her tenacity, laughs with the robust authority of a man in charge.)

  OSEMBENGA: Do you know who I am?

  MAMA: I’m afraid you must edify me, and then forgive me, if it makes absolutely no difference. Once you step through my door, then you’re in my house. And I make the rules here.

  (Osembenga chuckles to himself.)

  OSEMBENGA: All right, Mama. Forgive me.

  (Osembenga makes a show of removing the bullets from his gun and placing them on the table.)

  And who said I don’t respect the rule of law?

  (The drunk Government Soldier, half dressed, playfully chases Josephine from the back. Josephine spots Osembenga and jumps to attention.)

  GOVERNMENT SOLDIER #1: Commander, beg my pardon.

  OSEMBENGA: Take it easy, young man. Take it easy. We’re all off duty. We’re in Mama’s house. Clean up.

  (Osembenga sits down. He unzips his jacket. Mama opens a pack of cigarettes and passes them to Osembenga.)

  MAMA: Monsieur, I don’t recall seeing you here before.

  OSEMBENGA: No.

  (Mama lights Osembenga’s cigarette.)

  MAMA: What brings you to mon hotel?

  OSEMBENGA: Jerome Kisembe, the rebel leader.

  (Osembenga studies her face to gauge the response.)

  You know him, of course.

  MAMA: I know of him. We all know of him. His name is spoken here at least several times a day. We’ve felt the sting of his reputation.

  OSEMBENGA: So, you do know him.

  MAMA: No, as I said, I know of him. His men control the road east and the forest to the north of here.

  (Osembenga turns his attention to everyone. Scrutiny. Suspicion.)

  OSEMBENGA: Is that so?

  MAMA: Yes. But you must know that.

  (Osembenga speaks to Mama, but he is clearly addressing everyone.)

  OSEMBENGA: This Jerome Kisembe is a dangerous man. You hide him and his band of renegades in your villages. Give them food, and say you’re protecting your liberator. What liberator? What will he give the people? That is what I want to know? What has he given you Mama? Hm? A new roof? Food? Peace?

  MAMA: I don’t need a man to give me anything

  OSEMBENGA: Make a joke, but Kisembe has one goal and that is to make himself rich on your back, Mama.

  (Osembenga grows loud and more forthright as he speaks. The music stops. The bar grows quiet. Tension.)

  He will burn your crops, steal your women, and make slaves of your men all in the name of peace and reconciliation. Don’t believe him. He, and men like him, these careless militias wage a diabolical campaign. They leave stains everywhere they go. And remember the land he claims as his own, it is a national reserve, it is the people’s land, our land. And yet he will tell you the government has taken everything, though we’re actually paving the way for democracy.

  MAMA: I know that, but the government needs to let him know that. But you, I’m only seeing you for the first time. Kisembe, I hear his name every day.

  OSEMBENGA: Then hear my name, Commander Osembenga, banga liwa.

  (A moment. Mama absorbs the news, she seems genuinely humbled. Christian backs away as if to disappear.)

  You will hear my name quite a bit from now on.

  MAMA: Commander Osembenga, forgive me for not knowing your name. Karibu. It’s a pleasure to have such an important man in our company. Allow me to pour you a glass of our very best whiskey. From the U.S. of A.

  OSEMBENGA: Thank you. A clean glass.

  MAMA: Of course. Karibu.

  (Mama fetches Osembenga a glass of whiskey. She makes a show of wiping out the cloudy glass. She pours him a generous glass of whiskey and places the bottle in front of him.)

  (Seductively) We take good care of our visitors. And we offer very good company. Clean company, not like other places. You are safe here. If you need something, anything while—

  OSEMBENGA: You are a practical woman. I know that you have the sense to keep your doors closed to rebel dogs. Am I right?

  (Osembenga gently takes Mama’s hand. She allows the intimacy. Christian looks on. Contempt.)

  MAMA: Of course.

  (A Miner, covered in mud, sneaks in.)

  Hey, hey, my friend. Wash your hands and feet in the bucket outside!

  (The Miner, annoyed, scrambles out of the bar.)

  These fucking miners have no respect for nothing. I have to tell that one every time.

  (Christian retreats to the bar, fuming. Osembenga takes note of him. Christian quickly averts his gaze.)

  (Obsequiously) Anything you need.

  OSEMBENGA: I will keep that in mind.

  MAMA: Ladies.

  (She beckons to Josephine and Salima, who join Osembenga at the table. The Government Soldiers groan. )

  JOSEPHINE: Commander.

  (Josephine places her hand on Osembenga’s thigh.)

  MAMA: Excuse me a moment.

  (Christian grabs Mama’s arm as she passes.)

  CHRISTIAN: Watch that one.

  MAMA: What? It’s always good to have friends in the government, no?

  (Mama clears bottles. The Miner reenters. He sits at the bar.)

  GOVERNMENT SOLDIER #1 (Abandoned by Josephine, belligerently): Another.

  MAMA: Show me your money.

  (The Soldier holds up his money.)

  Sophie! Sophie! What are you standing around for? I’m losing mon
ey as you speak. Quick. Quick. Two beers.

  (Sophie carries two beers over to the Soldier. He places his money on the table. Sophie picks it up and quickly slips it under her shirt. She doesn’t realize Mama is watching her. The drunken Soldier grabs her onto his lap. Christian protectively rises. Sophie skillfully extracts herself from the Soldier’s lap.)

  CHRISTIAN: Are you okay?

  SOPHIE: Yes.

  (Sophie, shaken, exits. Christian smiles to himself, and lights a cigarette. The drunken Soldier, annoyed, plops down next to Christian.)

  GOVERNMENT SOLDIER #1: Ça va, Papa?

  CHRISTIAN: Bien merci.

  (The Soldier stares down Christian.)

  GOVERNMENT SOLDIER #1: You give me a cigarette, my friend?

  CHRISTIAN (Nervously): Sorry, this is my last one.

  GOVERNMENT SOLDIER #1: Yeah? You, buy me cigarette?

  CHRISTIAN: What?

  GOVERNMENT SOLDIER #1 (Showing off): Buy me cigarette!

  CHRISTIAN: Sure.

  (Christian reluctantly digs into his pocket, and places money on the counter. Mama drops a cigarette on the counter. The Soldier scoops it up triumphantly, and walks away.)

  And? Merci?

  (The Soldier stops short, and menacingly stares down Christian.)

  OSEMBENGA: Soldier, show this good man the bush hasn’t robbed you of your manners.

  (A moment.)

  GOVERNMENT SOLDIER #1: Merci.

  (Christian acknowledges Osembenga with a polite nod.)

  OSEMBENGA: Of course.

  (Osembenga smiles, and gestures to Mama.)

  MAMA: Yes, Commander?

  OSEMBENGA (Referring to Christian, whispers): Who is he?

  MAMA: Passing through.

  (The Soldier, embarrassed, angrily drives the Miner out of his bar seat. The Miner retreats.)

  OSEMBENGA: What’s his business?

  MAMA: Salesman. He’s nobody.

  OSEMBENGA: I don’t trust him.

  MAMA: Does he look dangerous to you?

  OSEMBENGA: Everyone looks dangerous to me, until I’ve shared a drink with them.

  (Osembenga sizes up Christian, deciding.)

  Give him a glass of whiskey, and tell him I hope he finds success here.

  (Mama pours a glass of whiskey. She walks over to Christian.)

  MAMA: Good news, the commander has bought you a drink of whiskey and hopes that you’ll find prosperity.

  CHRISTIAN: That’s very generous, but you know I don’t drink. Please, tell him thanks, but no thanks.

  (A moment.)