Les Blancs (13 page)

(
NGAGO
runs on and without breaking his speed hurls a piece of bark at
TSHEMBE’
s feet and exits into the darkness
)

CHARLIE
(
Dryly
) This is some curfew.

(
TSHEMBE
does not reply. He stands rigid
.
CHARLIE
moves to retrieve the bark
)

TSHEMBE
N
O!
(
He picks it up but does not look at it
) It is for me.

(
The distant, haunting strains of a chant are heard
.
TSHEMBE
listens. The lights begin to assume a surreal quality
)

CHARLIE
What the devil is it? (
There is a flicker of drums
)

TSHEMBE
(
A quizzical smile on his lips
) It’s an old problem, really. (
Looks, at last, at the writing on the bark
) … Orestes … Hamlet … the rest of them … (
He puts it away. Wistfully
) We’ve really got so many things we’d rather be doing …

(
The drums throb. It is as if he has been awaiting something all along and now at last she appears: the
WOMAN
as in the Prologue, majestic and motionless, spear in hand
.
TSHEMBE
is instantly transfixed, his senses alerted, eyes far away, though she is upstage and he cannot see her. The Mission begins slowly to dim. The drums throb and recede, throb and recede
)

CHARLIE
What’s the matter with you?

TSHEMBE
Ssh! … Soon she will come for me …

CHARLIE
“She?”
“She,”
Matoseh?

TSHEMBE
Ssh! … She will materialize out of the bush; she will waft up from the savannahs. (
The
WOMAN
begins to dance, slowly, hypnotically, relentlessly
) She will rise from the smoke outside the huts. I have known her to gaze up at me from puddles in the streets of London; from vending machines in the New York subway. Everywhere. And whenever I cursed her or sought to throw her off … I ended up that same night in her arms!

CHARLIE
Who?

TSHEMBE
(
Possessed, fighting her
) Even when I held my bride, she lay beside me, her arms on my thighs caressing!

CHARLIE
Who
, Matoseh?

TSHEMBE
(
Passionately, crying out
) Who! Who! When you knew her you called her Joan of Arc! Queen Esther! La Pasionara! And you did know her once, you did know her! But now you call her nothing, because she is dead for you! She does not exist for you! (
The
WOMAN
dances closer. The drums build
) Will you go now, Mr. Morris?

CHARLIE
Matoseh—

(
But
TSHEMBE
can no longer hear him, as her movements quicken
.
CHARLIE
dims out; the Mission darkens into silhouette
)

TSHEMBE
(
Addressing the
WOMAN
directly—but still without ever turning to look at her, for there is no need to: she has overrun the terrain of his mind
) NO! I WILL NOT GO! It is not my affair anymore! (
She circles in movements symbolic of the life of the people, binding him closer
) I have a wife and son now! I have named him Abioseh after my father and John after hers. (
She signifies the slaughter, the enslavement
) I know all that! But it is not my affair anymore! (
He sinks to his knees
) I don’t care what happens here—anywhere! (
She drops and writhes in agony
) I am not responsible! (
She rises: a warrior summoning him urgently, insistently, unrelenting
) It is not my affair! (
Abruptly silence, as she sweeps up the spear and halts, holding it vertical before her
.
TSHEMBE
turns to face her. She holds it rigid for an instant, then tosses it, still vertical, to him, and he catches it instinctively. Screaming as he clutches it
) I HAVE RENOUNCED ALL SPEARS!!!

MARTA
And so you see, Mr. Morris, it’s quite simple really. For
my
father—in those times—medicine just wasn’t enough. (
CHARLIE
joins her in the wrapping
) And so Papa took those stubby, miraculous hands of his to Spain—and died there, fighting Franco. (
Smiling wistfully
) I was twelve years old.

CHARLIE
(
Gently
) You loved him very much. (
She nods
) Hey—how’m I doing?

MARTA
(
Critically surveying his handiwork
) As a mission doctor, Mr. Morris, I’d say you make a first-rate interviewer! (
Leaning over to demonstrate
) There—tuck in the edges a bit more here …

CHARLIE
Mmm-hmm.

MARTA
 … to make sure that the bottle is covered completely.

CHARLIE
(
With appreciation
) Aha! Yes, that does help … Please go on.

MARTA
But what else is there to say? Years later, when I’d finished my residency, I heard about the Reverend, and just packed up and came. (
Suddenly anxious
) I do wonder what’s keeping him. He should have been back well before now.

CHARLIE
You’ve never regretted it?

MARTA
Not at all. Oh, I get irritated sometimes, infuriated even, but regret? No …

CHARLIE
(
Suddenly struck again by the wonder of where he is and what he is doing, moves his hands sweepingly over the leaves and drugs
) Tell me, Doctor, does this really
work?

MARTA
(
Eyeing his efforts with amusement
) Well, it has until
now
, Mr. Morris …

CHARLIE
Incredible. And to think that all these years hospitals in the States have been wasting all that money on refrigeration … when they could have been storing their drugs under the buildings in banana leaves!

MARTA
You’re laughing at us, Mr. Morris—

CHARLIE
(
Genuinely
) No, Dr. Gotterling. Not laughing. Marveling
…
(
She says nothing
) And the fact is—it really …

MARTA
(
Finishing it for him
) Yes, Mr. Morris, I assure you, it really works. Well, that is, for
most
drugs.

CHARLIE
And the others?

MARTA
Those we don’t stock. (
He looks at her
) As I told you, it’s a question of choices—

(
PETER
enters
)

PETER
You called, Dr. Gotterling.

MARTA
They go under Ward Six. (
PETER
picks up the box
) Thank you, Peter.

PETER
(
Nods. To
CHARLIE
) Bwana. (
He exits
)

MARTA
And thank you, Mr. Morris. (
Looks at her watch
) And now I really must get back.

CHARLIE
Oh, please, we haven’t finished—

MARTA
Oh, but we have—that’s it. “My life.” (
A slight satisfied shrug
) There just isn’t any more.

CHARLIE
Not anywhere? There’s never been … another part?

MARTA
(
Looking up quizzically
) Another part? Oh … I see. “The Man.” (
Smiling impudently
) Well, I hadn’t thought my life was over!

CHARLIE
(
Meeting her eyes
) I hadn’t thought so either, Doctor …

MARTA
(
Returning the look
) Am I still being interviewed?

CHARLIE
Yes, but if I play my cards right it may turn into—a conversation.

(
He motions her to sit on the ground. She does, and he joins her
)

MARTA
The question, then, is what do I do for love—for romance? (
Smiles
) It has a way, Mr. Morris, of coming wherever one is.

CHARLIE
Good.

MARTA
If one doesn’t
work
at it too hard.

CHARLIE
(
Grins
) I’ll make a note of that. I take it that Dr. DeKoven isn’t …

MARTA
(
Smiling
) Dr. KeKoven
isn’t
. Look, Mr. Morris, I know it’s the tradition in your country to publish the most extraordinary personal details of—

CHARLIE
Oh, it’s not for publication.

MARTA
Ah? Then I am
not
still being interviewed?

CHARLIE
Let’s say we are gently sliding into a conversation.

MARTA
Then I’ll tell you a secret: (
Leaning forward
very
confidentially
) I’ve lived without a confidant for years: it isn’t the strain it’s painted to be!

CHARLIE
I see.

(
He opens his mouth to speak, hesitates, then closes it again, then opens it—just enough to begin chewing on his pencil
)

MARTA
Yes?

CHARLIE
I didn’t say anything—

MARTA
Oh. Sorry. My error.

CHARLIE
Well, actually—you don’t ever feel that your life is in some ways wasted here?

MARTA
Wasted—?!

CHARLIE
Well, as far as I can see, this place isn’t exactly exploding with appreciation.

MARTA
I can only give you a professional answer.

CHARLIE
And the professional answer is, of course, that you didn’t come here to be appreciated.

MARTA
Exactly.

CHARLIE
And to get an unprofessional answer one has to know you much, much better.

MARTA
Oh—
much
.

(
It hangs for a moment, then
)

CHARLIE
How
much?

MARTA
Mr. Morris …

CHARLIE
Hmm?

MARTA
You’re working too hard. (
He grins. She looks at her watch
) Was there something else?

CHARLIE
Yes. (
Leaning forward intently. He hesitates
) Please understand. If I am to write the truth about this place, I have to question everything. Even Reverend Neilsen.

MARTA
(
Suddenly wary
) Oh?

CHARLIE
Have you ever wondered—I am being devil’s advocate now—if just possibly he hadn’t “capitalized,” so to speak, on the backwardness he found here?

MARTA
(
Tightly
) Mr. Morris, I am not a very complicated person. I believe that people are what they do. You may think it simple-minded of me if you like—but if you don’t understand the
depth
of his sacrifice merely by being here—

CHARLIE
Well, I agree. But—look, I spoke with that fellow Matoseh last night. He has such a different point of view I’m beginning to wonder if there is any place where the two join.

MARTA
(
Overreacting
) Why should you listen to Tshembe Matoseh? What possible difference does it make what he says—or any of them for that matter?

CHARLIE
(
Quick to pursue the point
) Why not?

MARTA
Because they haven’t earned the right to criticize yet—

CHARLIE
Oh … I see. (
Indicating the pistol at her waist
) The gun …

MARTA
Yes—?

CHARLIE
Would you
use
it?

MARTA
(
With a failing effort at restraint
) Mr. Morris, one could hardly call me a racialist, but there are some things one cannot get out of one’s mind—the Duchesne family, for example!

CHARLIE
(
Abruptly
) Doctor—who was Eric’s father?

MARTA
(
Staring at him
) I cannot imagine what that has to do with what you say you came here to write …

CHARLIE
Oh? Well, actually I’m not sure that it does, but … the fact is that there are some things that give insight to a writer, and—(
He hesitates
) the frailties of strong men is one of them.

MARTA
I see. Well, I’m afraid, Mr. Morris, that you’ll have to look for your insights elsewhere, because the frailties of those who settled here are not my business. (
She rises
) Being a doctor
is
. And now if you’ll excuse me … (
She starts out, then turns for a parting shot
) Oh—and as for Reverend Neilsen: after forty years I’d say it is a bit late for you—or Tshembe Matoseh—or anybody to be checking his credentials! Good morning.

(
She exits
.
CHARLIE
stands looking after her and then, on an impulse, exits swiftly, as the lights—
)