Latin American Plays

by Sebastian Doggart

  MECHE. You know that won’t happen.

  LA CHUNGA. No. It won’t happen.

  MECHE (lets her head rest against LA CHUNGA’s shoulder. But LA CHUNGA doesn’t put her arms around her). I’d like to be a strong woman, like you. To believe in myself, to be able to fend for myself. (Pause. Half-smiling.) But if I didn’t have someone to look after me, I don’t know what I’d do.

  LA CHUNGA. You’re not a cripple, are you?

  MECHE. I can hardly read, Chunga. Who would ever give me work? Except as a servant. Working morning, day, and night, sweeping, ironing, washing the filth off those lily-whites of Piura? I just couldn’t do it.

  Pause.

  LA CHUNGA. If I’d known you might be pregnant, I wouldn’t have made love to you.

  MECHE. Do pregnant women disgust you?

  LA CHUNGA. Yes. (Pause.) Did it disturb you, what we did?

  MECHE. Did it disturb me? I don’t know. I don’t . . .

  LA CHUNGA. Tell me the truth.

  MECHE. Yes, a bit, at first. I felt like laughing. After all, you’re not a man, are you? I thought it wasn’t for real, that it was a game. I was trying not to laugh, at first.

  LA CHUNGA. If you had laughed . . .

  MECHE. You’d have hit me?

  LA CHUNGA. Yes, I might have hit you.

  MECHE. And you said it was only men who were turned into devils by what’s between their legs.

  LA CHUNGA. Perhaps I am a man.

  MECHE. No you’re not. You’re a woman. And a desirable woman, if you wanted to be.

  LA CHUNGA. I don’t want to be desirable. No-one would respect me if I were.

  MECHE. Are you annoyed by what I said?

  LA CHUNGA. That you were trying not to laugh? No, I asked you to tell me the truth. (Pause)

  MECHE. I want you to know something, Chunga. Although I’m not a dyke – sorry – like you, I mean, I’ve become very fond of you. I would like it if we could be friends.

  LA CHUNGA. Leave Piura, will you. Don’t be a fool. Can’t you see you’re almost hooked? Before Josefino really savages you, get out of here. Go far away. You still have time. (Takes hold of MECHE’s face.) I’ll help you.

  MECHE. Will you really, Chunga?

  LA CHUNGA. Yes. (Puts her hand to MECHE’s face again, and strokes her.) I don’t want to see you rot in the Casa Verde, being passed from one drunk to another . . . Go on, take my advice, go to Lima.

  MECHE. What will I do in Lima? I don’t know anyone there.

  LA CHUNGA. Learn to believe in yourself. But don’t be stupid. Don’t fall in love. Love distracts you, and there’s no hope for a distracted woman. Let men fall in love with you. But never you with them. Look for some security, a better life than the one you have. And always remember: deep down, all men are like Josefino. If you start to give them affection, you’ve no hope.

  MECHE. Don’t talk like that, Chunga. You know, when you say things like that you remind me of him?

  LA CHUNGA. Maybe Josefino and I are the same.

  As if the mention of his name had been a summons, JOSEFINO gets up from the Boys’ table. He goes up the little staircase.

  IX

  Mr Big

  Although MECHE remains in the room and watches the following dialogue with interest, JOSEFINO and LA CHUNGA behave as if she is not there.

  JOSEFINO. Hi, Chunga. (Looks around, casting his eye over MECHE, without seeing her.) I’ve come for Meche.

  LA CHUNGA. She’s gone.

  JOSEFINO. So soon? You could have held on to her a little bit longer. (With a snigger) Squeeze out all your money’s worth. (LA CHUNGA just watches him with that scolding and disgusted look she always gives him.) So how was she? What was it like?

  LA CHUNGA. What was what like?

  JOSEFINO. Mechita. Was she worth it?

  LA CHUNGA. You’ve been drinking all night haven’t you? You stink from head to foot.

  JOSEFINO. What else could I do, Chunguita? You’d taken away my baby. Well, tell me. How was Meche?

  LA CHUNGA. I’m not going to tell you. That wasn’t in the agreement.

  JOSEFINO (laughing). You’re right. Next time I’ll have to put in a special clause. (Pause.) Why don’t you like me, Chunga? Don’t lie, I know you think I’m evil.

  LA CHUNGA. I shan’t lie to you. It’s true. I’ve always thought you were a nasty piece of work.

  JOSEFINO. Well, I’ve always had a soft spot for you. Seriously, Chunga.

  LA CHUNGA (laughing). Are you going to try and conquer me as well? Go on. Show me what techniques you use on those poor idiots.

  JOSEFINO. No, I’m not going to try and conquer you. (Undressing her with his eyes.) It’s not that I don’t want to, I assure you. I like you as a woman. But I know when I’m not going to get anywhere with a girl. I’d be wasting my time with you, you would never let me try it on. And I’ve never wasted my time with women.

  LA CHUNGA. Right, then get out of here.

  JOSEFINO. Let’s talk first. I want to make you a proposition. A business proposition.

  LA CHUNGA. Business? You and me?

  JOSEFINO (sits down on the bed and lights a cigarette. He has clearly thought long and hard about what he is going to say). I don’t want to stay the way I am, Chunga. Being one of the Boys and that. I’ve got ambitions. Fuck! I want to have cash, drink well, smoke well, wear lily-white Chinese silk suits. I want to travel the world, have my own car, a house, servants. I want to live like the white folks do, Chunga. That’s what you want as well, isn’t it? That’s why you work night and day like a slave, that’s what you’re destroying your soul for. Because you want another life, a life you can only enjoy if you have the cash. Let’s become partners, Chunguita. You and I could do great things together.

  LA CHUNGA. I already know what your proposition’s going to be.

  JOSEFINO. All the better, then.

  LA CHUNGA. The answer is no.

  JOSEFINO. You’re being narrow-minded. What’s the difference between a bar and a brothel? I’ll tell you: here you earn a few sols; in a brothel you would earn millions. (Standing up, gesturing, pacing round the room.) I’ve got it all worked out, Chunga. We can start with four little bedrooms. They can be built out there, behind the kitchen, in that yard where you leave the rubbish. We’ll keep it simple, just cane walls and straw mats. I’ll take charge of the girls. All first class, guaranteed. The Casa Verde takes fifty percent off its girls. We’ll only take forty; that way we’ll be able to pull whoever we want. Only a few to start with. Quality rather than quantity. I’ll take care of discipline and you can do the administration. (Anxious and vehement.) We’ll get rich, Chunguita.

  LA CHUNGA. If I’d wanted to set up a brothel, I’d have done it already. Why would I need you?

  JOSEFINO. For the girls. Call me what you like, but in this field, haven’t I proved myself? I’m the best there is. I’ll get first class girls who haven’t worked before. Virgins even, you’ll see! Fifteen or sixteen year-olds. That’ll drive the clients crazy, Chunga. We’ll attract all Piura’s whiteboys, ready to pay fortunes. Girls who can be initiated, brand new ones . . .

  LA CHUNGA. Like Meche.

  JOSEFINO (laughs lewdly). Well, Meche isn’t exactly brand new . . . We’ll make her the star attraction, of course. I swear to you, Chunga, I’ll get girls as good, even better than Meche.

  LA CHUNGA. And what if they don’t want to work?

  JOSEFINO. That’s my affair. I don’t know much, but I do know how to teach a girl that what God gave her is a winning lottery ticket. I’ve earnt the Casa Verde a fortune by bringing them women. What for? Fuck! For a few measly tips. Well, enough’s enough, and now I want to be a capitalist as well. What do you say, Chunguita?

  LA CHUNGA. I’ve already told you. No.

  JOSEFINO. Why, Chunga? Don’t you trust me?

  LA CHUNGA. Of course I don’t trust you. The day after we went into business together, you’d start fiddling the accounts.

  JOSEFINO. I swear to God, I wouldn
’t, Chunga. You can handle all the money. I accept that. You can take charge of the agreements with the girls, and decide on the percentages. I won’t touch a sol. You’d have a free hand. We’ll do whatever you decide. What more do you want? Don’t look a gifthorse in the mouth.

  LA CHUNGA. You’ll never be anyone’s gifthorse, Josefino. And certainly not a woman’s. In fact, you’re a Trojan horse to any woman gullible enough to believe what you say.

  JOSEFINO. So you’re being self-righteous, Chunguita? I have never pointed a gun at any woman’s head. I simply convince them of one truth. That in one night in the Casa Verde they can earn more money than working in the market for six months. Isn’t that the truth? Fuck! Thanks to me, some of those girls live better than we do.

  LA CHUNGA. It’s not out of self-righteousness that I don’t want to be your partner. I don’t feel sorry for them. If they were idiotic enough to let you try it on, they deserve whatever they get.

  JOSEFINO. I don’t like the way you’re talking to me, Chunga. I came here peacefully, to make you an honest business proposition. And you insult me. What if I lose my temper? Do you know what might happen if I lose my temper? Or do you think a dyke like you can put up a fight against me? (He becomes increasingly angry as he speaks.) The truth is I’m fed up with this high-and- mighty, jumped up, sonofabitch act you’re playing. Fuck! Enough’s enough. I’m going to teach you a lesson. You’ve had this coming for some time. No woman looks down her nose at me, let alone a dyke.

  He takes out his knife and threatens LA CHUNGA, as if she were still in front of him. But, in reality, LA CHUNGA has discreetly moved beside MECHE. Both look at JOSEFINO who carries on talking and threatening an invisible LA CHUNGA.

  JOSEFINO. Now how do you feel, dyke? Scared, aren’t you? Pissing yourself, huh? Well, you’re about to see how I deal with disobedient women. There’s nothing I like more than a girl who’s disobedient to me. It turns me on, you see. Down on your fucking knees! Fuck! Do what I say – unless you want a crossword drawn on your face. On your knees, I said! It’s because you own this filthy pigsty that you’re so jumped up, isn’t it? Because of all the centavos you’ve scrounged exploiting us poor bastards who come and drink your beers and put up with your bad temper? Do you think I don’t know who you are? Fuck! Do you think all Piura doesn’t know you were born in the Casa Verde? Among the whores, the screwing, and the stink of douches. Keep still! Stay on your knees or I’ll cut you to shreds, you shit. That’s what you are, Chunga. A child of the Casa Verde. A whore’s bastard. Don’t put on airs with me, I know too well where you come from. Now, suck. Suck or die. Obey your man. Suck. Slow and gentle. Get used to being my whore. (For some time, JOSEFINO mimes the scene, sweating, trembling, caressed by the invisible LA CHUNGA.) Now, swallow what you’ve got in your mouth. It’s my birthday present. (Laughs, now satisfied, even a little bored.) They say it’s good for the complexion. Were you scared? Did you think I’d kill you? Don’t be a twat. I’m not capable of killing a woman; deep down, I’m a fucking gentleman, Chunguita. I respect the weaker sex. It’s a game, you see? It gets my blood flowing. I get a kick out of it. You must have your little games too. As we get to know each other better, you can tell me about them, and I’ll indulge you. I’m not one of those guys who thinks a girl shouldn’t have a good time, that if you teach them how to come, they’ll start cheating on you. That’s what José and Monkey think, for instance. But I don’t. I’m fair. A girl has the right; well, why shouldn’t she? Let’s make it up, Chunguita? Don’t be spiteful. Let’s be friends. Shake on it, like the kids do. (LA CHUNGA has materialised again next to JOSEFINO.) So, you on for that deal? We’d get rich, I swear.

  LA CHUNGA. We wouldn’t get rich. We might do better than I’m doing now. But I’d certainly end up losing. Sooner or later, you’d make me feel that you were the stronger, like you did a moment ago. And whenever I disagreed with you, you’d get out your knife, your fists, your boots. You’d end up winning. I’d rather die poor than get rich with you.

  JOSEFINO (goes to rejoin the Boys at the gambling table). My God, women can be so stupid.

  X

  The End of the Party

  Long pause while MECHE and LA CHUNGA watch JOSEFINO go down the staircase and take his seat again.

  MECHE. Chunga, can I go now? It’s nearly daybreak. It must be around six, no?

  LA CHUNGA. Yes, you can go. Don’t you want to sleep a little first?

  MECHE. If you don’t mind, I’d rather go.

  LA CHUNGA. I don’t mind.

  They go down the stairs together and head towards the exit. They stop by the rocking chair. The Boys have finished their beers and are playing, yawning occasionally, without seeing the two women.

  MECHE (slightly hesitant). If you want me to come back, to stay here with you, at night, I mean . . .

  LA CHUNGA. Of course I’d like to spend another night together.

  MECHE. Well, that’s fine. I don’t mind, Chunga. I even . . .

  LA CHUNGA. Wait, let me finish. I’d like to, but I won’t. I don’t want to spend another night with you, and I don’t want you to come back here, ever.

  MECHE. Why Chunga? What have I done?

  LA CHUNGA (watches her silently for a moment and then draws her face towards her, as on previous occasions). Because you’re very pretty. Because I like you and because you’ve made me care about you, and about your future. That’s as dangerous for me as falling in love, Meche. I’ve told you before: I can’t allow myself to be distracted. I’d lose the war. That’s why I never want to see you here again.

  MECHE. I don’t understand what you’re saying, Chunga.

  LA CHUNGA. I know you don’t understand. Never mind.

  MECHE. Are you angry with me about something?

  LA CHUNGA. No, I’m not angry about anything. (Hands her some money.) Here. It’s a present. For you, not for Josefino. Don’t give it to him, and don’t tell him I gave it to you.

  MECHE (confused). No I won’t tell him anything. (Hides the money in her clothing.) I feel bad taking your money. I feel like . . . (Pause.)

  LA CHUNGA. A whore? Well, get used to it, in case you work in the Casa Verde. By the way . . . Do you know what you’re going to do with your life? (MECHE is about to reply, but LA CHUNGA puts her hand over her mouth.) Don’t say it. I don’t want to know. It’s up to you if you stay in Piura or if you go. Don’t tell me. Tonight I wanted to help you, but tomorrow’s another day. You won’t be here and everything will be different. If you tell me where you’re going, and Josefino sticks a knife to my neck, I’ll end up telling him everything. I already told you I don’t want to lose the war. But if I get killed, that’s the end of the war. Go on, think about it, make up your mind and do what you think best. But if you do go, whatever you do don’t even think about telling me or writing to me, or letting me know where you are. All right?

  MECHE. All right, Chunga. Bye then.

  LA CHUNGA. Bye, Meche. Good luck.

  MECHE goes out of the house. LA CHUNGA goes back and sits down in her rocking chair. She is in the same position as she was when the curtain rose at the beginning of the play. The Boys’ voices can be heard, beneath their cigarette smoke. Long pause.

  LA CHUNGA (emphatically). Right! Pay up and go. I’m closing.

  MONKEY. Just five minutes more, Chunga.

  LA CHUNGA. Not a second more, I said. You’re going right now. I’m tired.

  LITUMA (getting up). I’m tired too. Anyway, I’m down to my last centavo.

  JOSE. Yes, let’s get out of here. The night’s got sad.

  MONKEY. But first let’s sing the farewell song, Boys.

  MONKEY, JOSE, LITUMA, and JOSEFINO (singing, heavily, as at the end of a party).

  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 jus
t fine in front of our glasses.

  MONKEY. Enough of this shit, let’s cough up and split.

  MONKEY, JOSE, LITUMA, and JOSEFINO. Goodbye, Chunguita!

  They get up and head towards the rocking chair. LA CHUNGA stands up to take the money for the beers. Between them, they give it to her.

  JOSE (before crossing the threshold, as if completing a ritual). Tomorrow will you tell me what happened that time with Mechita, Chunga?

  LA CHUNGA (closing the door in his face). Go ask your mother about it.

  Outside the Boys laugh, celebrating crudely. LA CHUNGA bolts the door. She puts out the kerosene lamp that hangs over the table where the Boys were playing. Sleepily, she goes up to her room. She looks very tired. She collapses on the bed, hardly taking off her sandals.

  LA CHUNGA’S VOICE. See you in the morning, Mechita.

  Curtain.

  INTERVIEW WITH MARIO VARGAS LLOSA

  SD: What led you to write Mistress of Desires?

  MVL: When I wrote Mistress of Desires, what I had in mind was a minor character called La Chunga who was in one of my novels, The Green House. I always felt I could have worked better and in more detail on her character. That was the beginning. I then discovered that I was dealing with a woman in a machista world, not only because Peru and Latin America are very machista worlds, but also because the social backgrounds of the characters are particularly machista. Machismo is stronger at the base of every social pyramid. So it was very exciting for me to tell a story about a woman having to face this kind of world and fighting successfully to operate, survive, and even succeed there. Another theme that was introduced was one that has been appearing in all my plays and recent novels: the relationship between fiction and desires. This theme has explored the way fiction has roots in secret desires, in appetites that cannot be fulfilled in real life – sexual, sensual and economic desires. I wanted to write a story about stories themselves, how stories are linked and mixed with real life; and it was a thrilling challenge for me to translate these themes and problems to the very primitive, ignorant, and physical world of the Boys. I had tried similar things in Kathie and the Hippopotamus, but in another social class, of rich and educated people, where this kind of subtlety was much more easily acceptable.