Dedicated to Berta Cáceres and SOPHIE
Characters
BEGGAR WOMAN
ACTIVIST
[Lights come up. The stage is empty except for a grey stone bench, and a metal flagpole upstage left, which no longer has a flag. For a few moments, that pass like the starting raindrops of a summer shower, a silence hangs in the space. Then a BEGGAR WOMAN enters, pulling behind her an arrangement of bags, all from different periods of time. One load she carries over her shoulder, the other in her opposite hand. With a sigh she drops them off at one end of the stone bench, and then sits down. She takes a breath in, and then looks up at the sky around her.]
BEGGAR WOMAN:[Muttering] So many…so many…
[beat.]
I’m sure there’s more than last year. [She kisses her teeth four times.] Where do they find the room for these things… All the new ones will have names too…and nicknames…and middle names they prefer to their given names…[under her breath.] that’s not even getting into the ones with numbers…though that might be better. More numbers than names. I’d hate to get them confused. Not that they care, though. Off with their own little worlds, really. No need to be familiar with me. Not yet, anyway. No rush. Plenty of time to get to know me.
[Pause.]
A thankless lot, if I’m being honest…no gratitude…everyone recognises the role you do…but few thank you’s…[She shakes her head.] should complain…draw up a petition, get everyone to sign…they may not want to, but otherwise we’re all fucked…[she trails off towards the end of the sentence. Beat.]
Another one. All in all…a pinprick. Never reached the end of the board.[Pause.] It’s a very delicate equilibrium. It has to happen. But only to the point of necessity. Anything more is just wasteful. or cruel. Another pinprick spark amongst the quiet, lonely dark. Another piece removed.
We’re ready to see you now.
[ACTIVIST enters; a young woman in her early 30s. She is of Indigenous heritage, specifically the Lenca people. She enters, and then suddenly looks around, as if she has only just become aware of where she is. Her eyes eventually come to rest on the BEGGAR WOMAN, who turns her head to her. They hold each other’s gaze for a few seconds before the BEGGAR WOMAN lazily turns her head away again.]
ACTIVIST: I…was in front of a crowd.
BEGGAR WOMAN: Yes.
ACTIVIST: I was in front of a crowd. Not here.
BEGGAR WOMAN: No.
[Beat.]
ACTIVIST:I-There…I…My head feels fuzzy. I think I’m confused. This place isn’t familiar. I…
BEGGAR WOMAN: Not familiar to you, no. Not the place. But the concept…[She lets the sentence trail off and hang in the air.]
ACTIVIST: What? This is…I need to call my parents.
BEGGAR WOMAN: They’re dead, dear.
ACTIVIST: What?!
[Beat.]
…Oh that’s right. You’re right. Sorry, my father’s been dead for years, my mother passed just last-
BEGGAR WOMAN: I know.
[The ACTIVIST looks at her.]
ACTIVIST: No you don’t.
[Pause.]
BEGGAR WOMAN: I won’t force the issue.
[Beat.]
Would you like to sit down?
[Pause.]
ACTIVIST:…yes. I think I will.
[She sits. It’s then she notices what the bench is facing.]
ACTIVIST: Oh.
BEGGAR WOMAN: Yes
ACTIVIST: So many stars.
BEGGAR WOMAN: Yes.
ACTIVIST: I didn’t realise there were this many. It’s so hard to see them in the city. Because of the light pollution.
BEGGAR WOMAN: Hmm.
ACTIVIST: God, and there’s so many of them too.
[Beat.]
It’s killing us.
BEGGAR WOMAN: [Wryly] The lights are killing you?
ACTIVIST: No…I mean…in a technical sense, yes. The bigger picture, the…[She searches for the right word]…structure it’s a part of. Y’know? The system. It’s killing us. Like a huge, complicated engine. All the parts make it run, and it just keeps running. And it’ll just suck everything dry, hollow it all out, and there’ll be nothing left.
[Beat.]
FUCK!
[The BEGGAR WOMAN says nothing.]
Fuck, sorry, it’s just a lot…fuck.
BEGGAR WOMAN: You can have a moment. Not like I’m going anywhere.
[Beat.]
ACTIVIST: I’m sorry. I-
BEGGAR WOMAN: It’s alright.
ACTIVIST: I just had plans. And things to do. And I thought I had more time to do them. I’m just coming to terms with all that…not happening.
[Beat.]
Suppose you hear that one a lot?
BEGGAR WOMAN: Less than you think.
[Pause. The ACTIVIST looks around at her surroundings.]
ACTIVIST: To be honest, this isn’t what I expected. Where-where are we?
BEGGAR WOMAN: We aren’t anywhere.
ACTIVIST: I mean in a philosophical sense.
BEGGAR WOMAN: That doesn’t change my answer. This isn’t anywhere. We’re outside of place now. There’s no border to cross, no sovereignty to acknowledge. You are simply here.
ACTIVIST: Okay, and what do you mean by here? What does ‘here’ mean?
BEGGAR WOMAN: [Pause. She is thinking of a way to say it.] Think of it…as a moment. As a decision. A crossroads.
ACTIVIST: So what happens now? What’s the decision I have to make?
[Beat.]
Assuming I’m the one who gets to make it.
BEGGAR WOMAN: Well, you can move on, go past this moment, move forward.
ACTIVIST: Move forward into wher-what?
BEGGAR WOMAN: I wouldn’t know.
ACTIVIST: Okay. And what is the other option?
BEGGAR WOMAN: You can stay here a while and sit with me.
[Beat.]
If you wish.
ACTIVIST: That doesn’t like much of a choice. That sounds like a bunch of arbitrary options which don’t really give me much freedom at all.
[Pause. The BEGGAR WOMAN throws a quizzical look at the ACTIVIST.]
BEGGAR WOMAN: I’m sorry…I-
[Beat.]
I don’t really understand how that’s different from any other choice.
[Silence. The ACTIVIST looks defeated. She sighs, and then sits down on the bench. She and the BEGGAR WOMAN sit there, the latter unbothered by the other’s disposition. The ACTIVIST puts her head in her hands. More silence. The ACTIVIST looks up, staring into the audience. She tries to hide a smirk, but it grows as she holds it in, and eventually she smiles. She notices the BEGGAR WOMAN looking at her. She lets out a sound that is a mix between a yell and a laugh. The BEGGAR WOMAN doesn’t say anything.]
ACTIVIST: I’m sorry…I just had a funny thought in my head.
[Beat.]
BEGGAR WOMAN: Go on.
ACTIVIST: No, it’s really just something…you wouldn’t get it.
[The BEGGAR WOMAN looks at her unamused.]
The city lights, all bundled together. They should be beautiful, the way they look in the dark. But all I think of when I look at this is, ‘God, don’t they look like embers on a dying fire?’ And it’s all so unimpressive and silly. Laughable, really. And then I turned and saw you looking at me, and…I didn’t know how to respond.
BEGGAR WOMAN: I think that’s a strange way to look at it.
ACTIVIST: Well, what do you see when you look at it?
BEGGAR WOMAN: People.
ACTIVIST: Right, the cities, but what I me-
BEGGAR WOMAN: No, I mean I see the people. I can feel them, pulsing or sparking like tiny explosions. I always have to concentrate, or I’d miss all of you. Gone in a second. At least that’s what it’s like for me. And then I come in, and harvest what remains. Or guide it. It’s just semantics really.
ACTIVIST: Hmmm, that’s interesting. It’s poetic.
BEGGAR WOMAN: Well, it was either explosions or I compare you to cicadas…
[The ACTIVIST gives a small frown at her.]
ACTIVIST: Charming…
[Beat.]
Okay, what do you see?
BEGGAR WOMAN: You want to know what I see?
ACTIVIST: Yes.
BEGGAR WOMAN: Who I see?
ACTIVIST: Yes.
[The BEGGAR WOMAN turns her head towards the audience and looks out. Her eyes flit from one point to another. She isn’t concentrating on anything. She turns back to the ACTIVIST.]
BEGGAR WOMAN: I see people.
ACTIVIST: Yes?
BEGGAR WOMAN: That’s it.
ACTIVIST: You’ve already said you see people. I said I wanted to know who.
BEGGAR WOMAN: Well, to be fair, you didn’t specify.
ACTIVIST: You didn’t say I had to-
[Beat. She sighs.]
Fine. If I must be specific…I want to see my family.
BEGGAR WOMAN: No.
ACTIVIST: No?
BEGGAR WOMAN: No.
ACTIVIST: What do you mean no?
BEGGAR WOMAN: You can’t see them.
ACTIVIST: And why not?
BEGGAR WOMAN: There are rules.
ACTIVIST: Rules? You didn’t tell me about any.
BEGGAR WOMAN: I would have thought it was obvious.
ACTIVIST: How so?
BEGGAR WOMAN: You’re supposed to be moving on. Family is a tie to your past life. A very strong one, usually. If you could keep tabs on them, you’d just stay here, and I’d become some family on demand service.
ACTIVIST: But I was k-…I was taken so suddenly. I have no problem moving on, but can’t I even make my peace?
BEGGAR WOMAN: Would it be peace? Seeing your family in pain?
ACTIVIST: You think that because you don’t know my family. I’m sure they are hurting, but my people aren’t in a position to stop and grieve. We never have been, not since the Europeans landed. But then you would know about that, wouldn’t you?
BEGGAR WOMAN: [Grimly] Yes, I recall I was very busy back then.
ACTIVIST: Then you understand why seeing my family won’t be a problem.
BEGGAR WOMAN: Maybe. But I have my rules, and I would like you to respect them.
[Pause.]
ACTIVIST: Fine. Can I at least know about my people? There’s a community centre that a lot of Lenca attend. Northwest part of La Esperanza.
BEGGAR WOMAN: Your people are still a tie to your life.
ACTIVIST: But not a strong tie?
BEGGAR WOMAN: That would be up to you, really.
ACTIVIST: Well, that centre is not an important place to me, if that’s what you mean. I just know of it.
[Pause.]
BEGGAR WOMAN: Hmmm…I’ll allow it.
[She turns towards the audience again and looks out. This time she is concentrating on a specific point.]
I see the centre. Lot of people are attending it today. A real sense of community here. There’s an event going on. A memorial event…for you. [She gives a look at the ACTIVIST] Well, at least you’re being remembered. This risks being conceited, you’re not breaking the rules. I will also allow this. For now. Anyway, people from all walks of life are here. It’s a unified presence. A solidarity. The community leaders have been talking to them all. They’ve asked a woman to stand up and give a speech, and to tell the crowd what her…sister was like-oh, you little shit!
[She turns to the ACTIVIST]
I don’t appreciate lies.
ACTIVIST: I didn’t lie. That community centre isn’t important to me. I’ve never been. It’s important to my sister.
BEGGAR WOMAN: That is one degree of separation.
ACTIVIST: Well, yes-
BEGGAR WOMAN: Enough. You no longer get to choose who I see you. I will find another person on that tiny ball, tell you about them, so you can know what I see, and then be on your way.
ACTIVIST: But-
BEGGAR WOMAN: No buts! I hope I find someone getting kicked in the balls for lying, and you can learn the virtues of being honest.
[Pause. The ACTIVIST is silent as the BEGGAR WOMAN looks out into the audience once more.]
ACTIVIST: [Under her breath] Never known Death to swear…
[Beat.]
Still don’t think I was lying either…
BEGGAR WOMAN: There’s someone trying to look at us.
ACTIVIST: Look at us?
BEGGAR WOMAN: Yes.
ACTIVIST: How? As far as I know, we aren’t really anywhere.
BEGGAR WOMAN: Why do you think we can see the earth?
ACTIVIST: Oh.
[Beat.]
What?
BEGGAR WOMAN: Shhh. I am trying to focus.
ACTIVIST: [Whispering] Okay, how is she looking at us? Through a telescope?
BEGGAR WOMAN: No. She is just trying to look at this place. At it.
ACTIVIST: What’s happening?
BEGGAR WOMAN: It’s night where she is. She’s on holiday. With friends. The moon isn’t full tonight, but it’s very bright. She wants to get a better look at it. Something about it, the way it looks, has caught her attention tonight. She’s going up to the attic of the holiday house, through the skylight window. She wants to sit up here, with her friends. And just take a deep breath in and know that she is safe and loved and happy. She hasn’t always been happy, had to struggle for it, but she claims it right now. Even just for a moment. These are precarious times, she thinks, and she wants just this moment.
[Pause.]
She’s gone.
ACTIVIST: You’ve lost the connection or something? Is that possible?
BEGGAR WOMAN: No, she’s dead.
ACTIVIST: What? When?
BEGGAR WOMAN: Just now. She slipped.
[Beat.]
ACTIVIST: Oh my god.
[Pause.]
BEGGAR WOMAN: Are you okay?
ACTIVIST: Yeah…it’s fine…you just never get used to how fragile our lives can be.
BEGGAR WOMAN: It’s all fragile.
ACTIVIST: I know.
BEGGAR WOMAN: Whole world is fragile. Slowly sliding down the slope of destruction. Really, now it’s a question of how much you can save, and that’s not looking go-
ACTIVIST: I know! You think I don’t know that? I am well aware of how fragile everything is, and how much it means when each plant, mammal, insect, species is killed by the need of the few to consume! Our entire economic system relies on putting me and my people in close proximity to many different types of death. My whole life I have been surrounded by it. My people have died fighting for this world. I’ve died for this! And when we go to the rich and powerful nations of the world, the exploiters and the colonizers, they tell us we can use sustainable methods to save the planet. Sustaining what? Their way of life? Their profits? The only thing they want to sustain is their consumption, their harvesting. It’s so arrogant I coul-
[She pauses.]
No. I don’t have to do this anymore. I’m done with the arguments. It doesn’t matter anymore. I have had my land, my language, my entire life colonized. I will not give up anymore of my time to this. And if I want to use my time to show some sympathy for a life snuffed out early, despite the overwhelming horror of it all, I will do so and do not need a reminder.
[She sighs. She sits down on the bench and puts her head in her hands. The BEGGAR WOMAN looks at her for some time.]
BEGGAR WOMAN: Sounds like you didn’t do much then.
ACTIVIST: Excuse me?
BEGGAR WOMAN: I’m just saying it sounds like you didn’t accomplish much. The odds were stacked against you, the overwhelming horror of it all, the plans you never got to see fulfilled. Not that I’m judging you, of course. Just saying it didn’t seem like it was worthwhile, in the end.
ACTIVIST: How dare you.
BEGGAR WOMAN: You can get as angry as you want, but it sounds like for all the struggling, you never really had a chance of winning.
ACTIVIST: It’s not about winning.
BEGGAR WOMAN: Then what is it about?
ACTIVIST: It’s about living.
BEGGAR WOMAN: Well you didn’t succeed at that either.
ACTIVIST: I’m serious. Winning is just another word for conquering. I’ve seen the legacies of conquest, and all of them are just destruction. You want to know how to “beat” that? You want sustainable living? Then you sustain different ways of living. By different ways of relating to the world, and everything in it. By treating the land as something which reciprocates what you give to it, not just property and a pool of resources. By ensuring everyone can be cared for, that everyone lives with care, and dignity. And not the dignity you find at some highbrow dinner party. The dignity that is immediate, that comes with you knowing you can live the way you need to. And ensuring that for every living thing. That’s what I fought for. To live, free and with dignity on my people’s land, without the intrusion of big industry farmers or dam projects. Living free with the people and the land. And so all people can live their lives according to their traditions and culture, alongside one another. A world where many worlds exist.
[Beat. She laughs]
It’s funny, I got so angry I forgot none of this really matters to you. I think you were just trying to provoke.
BEGGAR WOMAN: I was. And it doesn’t. But it needed to be said out loud. For yourself.
ACTIVIST: Why?
BEGGAR WOMAN: So you could understand.
ACTIVIST: Understand what exactly?
BEGGAR WOMAN: The path you chose. To look back out on the steps you made along the sand, and know exactly why you were walking in this direction.
[Pause.]
ACTIVIST: Hmmm.
BEGGAR WOMAN: How do you feel?
[Beat.]
ACTIVIST: Content, which is strange. I feel like I made the right choices.
[She looks over to where she came in from, and then out to the audience.]
Still, I would have liked to say goodbye. It can’t have been easy for my family, or my friends.
BEGGAR WOMAN: But you’re not too worried?
ACTIVIST: As long as the people in my community have each other, and care for one another, they’ll be safe. And as a community they’ll carry mine and other peoples memories forward. As long as the type of life where that is still possible remains, there’s still hope.
[Beat.]
I should probably get going. I imagine you’re still very busy.
BEGGAR WOMAN: You don’t know the half of it.
ACTIVIST: I guess I’ll see you around.
BEGGAR WOMAN: No, you won’t.
[The ACTIVIST walks towards the opposite side from where she entered. Before she leaves, she turns back to the BEGGAR WOMAN.]
ACTIVIST: What does it look like, where I’m going?
BEGGAR WOMAN: I don’t know. I don’t get to know. I imagine it looks like what you know it does.
[The ACTIVIST considers this for a moment, and then leaves. The BEGGAR WOMAN looks at where she exited, and then turns back to the audience. She remains where she is, seated on the bench.]
BEGGAR WOMAN: [Kisses her teeth four times] Another one moving on. Goes to join the others. So many of them. But never too many. Never. Without them, glimmering in the night, what would you have? Nothing. Another pinprick spark in the quiet, lonely dark. And all of them must be remembered. All of them must be remembered. For what is the earth without the stars? And what would the stars be without an earth to stand upon and gaze at them from? But enough musings…
[Beat.]
We’re ready to see you now.
END.
