MVLl, Florence, July 9, 1985.
Note
The Spanish title, La Chunga, is a word used in northern Peru to refer to a strong woman at the bottom of the socio-economic pyramid. There is no equivalent in English. Vargas Llosa and I discussed an English title during our interview and, following various proposals, he agreed that Mistress of Desires was an appropriate English title. S.D.
La Chunga’s House
Piura, 1945.
La Chunga’s bar-restaurant is near the Stadium, in that slum of planks and matting which sprang out of the sands not long ago. It is located between the road to Sullana and the Grau barracks. It is large and square and, unlike many of the flimsy buildings in the neighbourhood, it has been properly constructed with adobe walls and a calamine roof. On the ground floor there are rough tables, benches and seats where customers sit, and a counter made of wooden beams. Behind the counter is the sooty, smoky kitchen. On a higher level, reached by a staircase which has only a few steps, is the room which no customer has ever seen: the boss’ bedroom. From there, La Chunga can watch through a window, concealed behind a floral-patterned curtain, and see everything that is happening below.
The customers in the bar are from the neighbourhood: soldiers on leave from the Grau barracks, football or boxing fans who have dropped in on their way to the Stadium, or construction workers from Buenos Aires, the new white neighbourhood which is making Piura into an expanding city.
La Chunga has a cook who sleeps in front of the stove and a boy who comes during the day to serve at the tables. She is always at the bar, usually standing. On a night like tonight, when there are few customers, just the four layabouts who call themselves the Boys and have been playing dice and drinking beer for some time, La Chunga can be seen rocking gently in her straw rocking-chair, creaking rhythmically, her eyes lost in the void. Is she submerged in her memories? Or is she just existing, her mind a blank?
She is a tall and ageless woman, with a hard face, smooth and taut skin, firm bones and forceful gestures. She looks at others unblinkingly. She has a mop of dark hair, tied back with a band, a cold mouth with thin lips which speak little and smile rarely. She wears short-sleeved blouses and skirts so unseductive that she looks like she could be wearing the uniform of a college for nuns. Sometimes she goes barefoot, at others she wears flat sandals. She is an efficient woman; she runs the place with an iron hand and she knows how to command respect. Her physical appearance, her severity and her terseness are intimidating, and hardly ever do drunks try and take liberties with her. She does not listen to confidences, nor is she susceptible to charm. She is not known to have a boyfriend, a lover, or even a friend. She seems determined to live always alone, dedicated to her business, body and soul. Except for the very brief episode with Meche – which confused the customers a great deal – nothing or no-one is known to have upset her routine. For as long as the Piuranos who frequent the place can remember, she has been standing gravely and motionlessly behind the bar. Does she go occasionally to the Variedades or the Municipal to see a movie? Does she ever take an afternoon walk in the Plaza de Armas to listen to an open-air recital? Does she go out to the Eguiguren waterfront or to the Puente Viejo to bathe in the river – if it has rained in the Cordillera – at the beginning of every summer? Does she watch the military parade on Fiestas Patrias among the crowd standing at the foot of the Monumento Grau?
She is not an easy woman to engage in conversation; she answers in monosyllables or gestures and if someone tells her a joke she will respond with a curse. ‘No flies on Chunguita’, say the Piuranos.
The Boys know this very well. They roll their dice, toast each other and joke around. Their table is right beneath a beam from which hangs a kerosene lamp, and insects flit around the light. Although they come here two or three times a week, the Boys could not be described as La Chunga’s friends. Acquaintances and customers, nothing more. Who in Piura could boast of knowing her intimately? The elusive Meche, perhaps? La Chunga has no friends. She is a wild and solitary being, like a cactus in the sands around Piura.
La Chunga was written in 1985 and first staged on 30 January 1986 in the Teatro Canout, Lima, Peru, by the Grupo Ensayo, with the following cast:
LA CHUNGA
Delfina Paredes
MECHE
Charo Verástegui
JOSEFINO
Gianfranco Brero
MONKEY
Alberto Isola
LITUMA
Cipriano Proaño
JOSÉ
Ricardo Velásquez
Director Luis Peirano
Designer Javier Sota
This translation of Mistress of Desires was first staged on 18 February 1992 in Christ’s Theatre, Cambridge University by The Southern Development Trust, with the support of Mario Vargas Llosa and the following cast:
LA CHUNGA
Gabrielle Jourdan
MECHE
Ina Sarikhani
JOSEFINO
Edward Docx
MONKEY
Graeme Surtees
LITUMA
Mike Davis
JOSÉ
Rupert Tebb
Director Sebastian Doggart
Music David Knotts
To Patricia Pinilla
Act One
I
A Game of Dice
MONKEY (before throwing the dice, his hand above his head). Come on, boys! Bring me some luck, let’s sing the song.
JOSE, LITUMA, JOSEFINO, MONKEY (in chorus, with very exaggerated gestures).
The four of us are called the Boys
We get our kicks from simple joys.
And throughout Piura it’s been said
Every girl needs a Boy in her bed
So don’t tell us to get off our asses
We’re doing just fine in front of our glasses.
MONKEY. Now back to our vice of playing the dice! (Blows on and kisses the dice, then throws them onto the table. The black and white cubes roll, bounce, ricochet off the half-full glasses, are blocked by a bottle of Cristal beer and lie still.) Ahahai! Double threes! That makes me really happy. I’ll double the stake, gentlemen. Who’s game? (No-one answers and no-one adds anything to the pile of notes and coins that sits by MONKEY’s glass.) Come on, you faggots. (Picks up the dice, rocks them like a baby, blows on them, shakes them above his head, but doesn’t yet throw them.) Here go the knockers again. Five and a one, four and a two, or double threes – or else this boy’s going to chop his todger off.
JOSEFINO (handing him a knife). It won’t help you much, but you can use my knife. Go for it – chop it off.
JOSE. Toss the dice will you, Monkey. Tossing’s one thing you can do.
MONKEY (making funny faces, fooling around). Huhuhuhuuuu! Three and a six. (Crosses himself) Now, give me a six, Holy Whore!
LITUMA (turning towards the bar counter). Hey Chunga, don’t you think Monkey’s getting very crude?
LA CHUNGA doesn’t stir. She doesn’t condescend to look at the Boys’ table.
JOSE. Why don’t you answer poor Lituma, Chunguita? He’s asking you a question, isn’t he?
MONKEY. She’s probably dead. It’s just her corpse rocking there. Are you dead, Chunguita?
LA CHUNGA. I’m sure that would make you happy. Then you could run off without paying for your beers.
MONKEY. Ahaha! I’ve brought you back to life, Chunga Chunguita. (He blows on and kisses the dice, and throws them.)
Now, give me a six, Holy Whore! (Their four faces follow the journey of the dice through the glasses, bottles, cigarettes and matchboxes. This time the dice land on the damp earthen floor.) One and three is four, Boys. I only need a two. The bank is still open if anyone’s got the balls.
LITUMA. So what happened that time with Meche, Chunga? We’re all alone tonight. You can tell us.
JOSE. Yeah, go on, tell us, Chunga Chunguita.
LA CHUNGA (ever indifferent, sleepily). Go ask your mother.
MONKEY (throws the dic
e). Siiiix! Suck on that and swallow, all of you! Hahahai! (Turns towards the bar counter.) It must be your cutting words that are making me lucky, Chunguita. (Raises the pot and kisses the notes and coins extravagantly.) Another couple of cold beers. This time they’re on me. Hahahai!
LA CHUNGA stands up. The chair continues to rock, creaking at regular intervals, while the owner of the Bar goes and takes out a couple of beers from a bucket full of ice that she keeps under the bar. Nonchalantly, she carries them to the Boys’ table and puts them down in front of MONKEY. A forest of bottles covers the table. LA CHUNGA returns to the rocking chair.
JOSE (in a mischievously high voice). Won’t you ever tell us what you did that night with Meche, Chunga?
JOSEFINO. Shut up about Mechita right now or I’ll strip one of you and do it to you right here. Just her name makes me horny.
MONKEY (making eyes and mimicking a woman’s voice). Does that happen to you too, Chunga?
LA CHUNGA. That’s enough, you sonofabitch. I’m here to serve beers, not to listen to your filth, or be laughed at. Watch it, Monkey!
MONKEY (starts trembling. His teeth chatter. His shoulders and hands shudder, he becomes white-eyed with terror, hysterically possessed). Uy, I’m so scared.
Roaring with laughter, the Boys slap him on the back as if to calm him down.
LITUMA. Don’t get mad, Chunga. We may get on your nerves sometimes, but you know we really love you.
JOSEFINO. Fuck! Who’s bloody idea was it to mention Meche? It was you, wasn’t it, Lituma? You’ve made me all sentimental. (Raises his glass solemnly.) Let’s drink to the hottest pussy that ever walked on Peruvian soil. To you, Mechita – in heaven, in Lima, in hell, or wherever the fuck you are.
II
Meche
While JOSEFINO toasts and the Boys drink, MECHE enters, slowly and rhythmically, like someone coming into the real world out of the world of memory. She is young and very feminine, with a balanced and full figure. She wears a light, tight-fitting dress and high-heels. She walks flirtatiously. LA CHUNGA’s eyes widen and brighten as she enters. The Boys do not notice her presence. By contrast, LA CHUNGA is now so entranced by MECHE that she feels that the present has lost all consistency and stopped. The voices of the Boys become fainter.
MONKEY. I’ll never forget your face when Meche came in that time, Chunga Chunguita. You were totally awestruck.
LITUMA. You’re the only person in the world who knows where she is, Chunga. Go on, girl, what does it matter? Satisfy our curiosity!
JOSE. Or even better, tell us what happened that night between you and Meche, Chunga. Fuck! I lie awake every night thinking about it.
MONKEY. I’ll tell you what happened. (Sings, monkeying around as usual)
Chunga and Meche
Meche and Chunga
Cheche and Menga
Menga and Cheche
Che Che Che Che Che
Chu Chu Chu Chu Chu
And long live Fumanchu!
LA CHUNGA (in a faint and distant voice, mesmerised by MECHE who is now standing beside her). Hurry up and finish your drinks, I’m closing.
JOSEFINO stands up, unnoticed by the other Boys. Stepping out of the present into the past, from reality into dream, he goes over to MECHE and takes her arm as if he owns her.
JOSEFINO. Good evening, Chunguita. May I introduce Meche.
MECHE (holding out her hand to LA CHUNGA). Pleased to meet you, señora.
The Boys wave greetings to JOSEFINO and MECHE, remaining absorbed in their game of dice.
LA CHUNGA (devouring her with her eyes and holding on to MECHE’s hand. She speaks emotively). So you’re the Meche I’ve heard so much about. Welcome. I didn’t think he’d ever bring you. I’ve wanted to meet you so much.
MECHE. So have I, señora. Josefino’s always talking about you. (Pointing to the table.) So do they – the whole time. About you and about this place. I’ve been dying to come. (Pointing to JOSEFINO.) But he didn’t want to bring me.
LA CHUNGA (resigning herself to releasing MECHE’s hand. Making an effort to compose herself and look natural). I’ve no idea why. I haven’t eaten anyone up as far I know. (To JOSEFINO.) Why didn’t you want to bring her?
JOSEFINO (joking coarsely). I was afraid you might steal her away from me, Chunguita. (Putting his arm round MECHE’s waist, displaying her proudly.) Worth her weight in gold, don’t you think?
LA CHUNGA (admiring her and nodding). Yes. This time I have to hand it to you. You must be the Don Juan of Gallinacera. She’s worth more than all your other conquests put together.
MECHE (slightly embarrassed). Thank you, señora.
LA CHUNGA. Please, call me Chunga. You don’t have to be formal with me.
LITUMA (calling from the table). We’re starting another game, Josefino. Are you in?
JOSE. Come on, Josefino, it’s Monkey’s turn with the dice. There’s easy money to win from this sucker.
MONKEY. Sucker? Holy Whore, come to me! Tonight I’m going to clean you all out. Hahahai! And Josefino, you’re going to lose so much, you’ll have to pawn Mechita to me.
JOSEFINO (to LA CHUNGA). How much do you think I could get for this little doll, Chunguita?
LA CHUNGA. Anything you asked for. It’s true, she’s worth her weight in gold. (To MECHE.) What can I get you? It’s on me. Beer? Vermouth?
JOSEFINO. I don’t believe it . . . Did you hear that, Boys, drinks are on Chunga.
LA CHUNGA. Not for you they’re not. You’re a regular. It’s Meche’s first time here. That’s why I’m buying for her – so she’ll come back.
Uproar from the Boys’ table.
MONKEY. Hahahai! I must be dreaming!
JOSE. Order a whisky and enjoy, Mechita.
JOSEFINO (going over to the table and taking his seat again with the Boys). Right, let’s roll!
MECHE. I thought you were taking me to the movies?
JOSEFINO. Later. First I’m going to earn some hard cash off these three wankers. The night is young, my love.
MECHE (to LA CHUNGA, pointing to JOSEFINO). I can see already we won’t be going to see a movie. They’ve got one on at the Variedades with Esther Williams and Ricardo Montalbán. In colour. With bullfighting and music. What a pity Josefino likes that game so much.
LA CHUNGA (handing her the vermouth which she has been preparing). He’s mixed up in every game. He’s the biggest bastard of the lot. What do you see in him? What could any woman see in a bum like him? Tell me, Meche. What’s he got?
MECHE (half blushing, half pretending to blush). Well . . . I don’t know. He’s got . . . He’s charming; he knows how to say lovely things. And also he’s so good-looking, don’t you think? And . . . and . . . Well, when he kisses me and strokes me, I tremble all over. I see little stars.
LA CHUNGA (with a mocking smile). Really? Little stars?
MECHE. Well, that’s just an expression. You know what I mean.
LA CHUNGA. No. I don’t know. I don’t know how a woman as beautiful as you could be in love with a pathetic devil like that. (Very seriously.) You realise where you’ll end up if you stay with him, don’t you?
MECHE. I never think about the future, Chunga. You have to take love as it is. For the happiness it gives now, this moment. Drink the juice while the fruit’s still ripe. (Suddenly becoming alarmed.) Where will I end up if I stay with him?
LA CHUNGA. He’ll make you see a few more little stars. And then he’ll put you in the Casa Verde, so you can earn him a living. By whoring.
MECHE (scandalised). What are you talking about? You must be joking. You think I could do that? Obviously you don’t know me. Do you think I’m capable of. . . ?
LA CHUNGA. Of course you’re capable. Just as capable as all the other stupid girls who have seen little stars with that pimp. (Stretches out her hand and caresses MECHE’s cheek.) Don’t look so frightened. I like you much better with a smile on your face.
III
A Gallinazo and Three Mangaches
At the Boys’ table, the game starts to heat up.
MONKEY (Very excited). Three and a four is seven! Hahaha! So I’m a sucker am I, José? Down on your knees and pray, pencil-dick! When in your stupid life have you seen anything like it: seven whole games in a row. And the money’s still all there, for anyone brave enough. Who’s game?
JOSEFINO (taking out some banknotes). I am. You think you can scare me. Let’s see how much there is. Two hundred, three hundred. Here’s three hundred. Throw the dice, Mangache.
JOSE. That’s a big wad, Josefino! (Lowering his voice.) Have you already put Mechita out to work then?
JOSEFINO. Shut it, or you’ll give me a hard-on. What are you waiting for, Monkey?
MONKEY (as if he were casting a spell, he passes the dice across his eyes and his lips, cradling them in his hand). Just making you suffer a little, Gallinazo. And they’re off, huhuhuhuuu . . . (Excitedly, everyone watches the dice.) Eleven! Suck on that and swallow, again! Eight in a row! Fuck! You’re really gagging now! More beers, Chunga. We have a miracle to drink to.
JOSEFINO (stopping MONKEY as he reaches to collect the money he has won). The pot stays on the table.
The three Boys watch him, surprised.
MONKEY. You want to carry on losing? Fine by me, brother. There’s the money. Six hundred sols. You could get rich on that. But are you betting that all on your own?
JOSEFINO. All on my own, señor. (Takes out more banknotes from his pocket and counts them ostentatiously. He places them in the pot, slowly and theatrically.) There. Six hundred. Gallinacera against Mangachería.
LITUMA. Holy Shit! Has he robbed a bank, or what?
Latin American Plays Page 22