Three Plays: The Young Lady from Tacna, Kathie and the Hippopotamus, La Chunga (5 page)

AGUSTIN: Oh, that’s brilliant, César. Yes, why don’t we? You’d be paying for her, I suppose.
CESAR: There’s no need to be sarcastic, Agustín. You know I’m hard up at the moment.
AGUSTIN: Then don’t talk about taking on a maid. Have you any idea what it costs to run this house? Has it ever occurred to you to pick up a pencil and work it out? Well, there’s the rent, the housekeeping, the water rates, the electricity, dustmen, doctor’s bills, medicine, not to mention the three thousand for Amelia. Do you know how much it all comes to? Fourteen or fifteen thousand soles a month. And what do you contribute apart from belly-aching the whole time? Two thousand
soles
.
(JOAQUIN
comes in, as discreetly as a ghost, dressed in the same uniform he was wearing at the beginning of the play. He sits down next to
MAMAE.)
CESAR: It’s hard enough for me to manage the two thousand. I don’t even earn enough to cover my own expenses. I’m in constant debt, as you well know … I’ve got four children, Agustín. I’ve had to put the two younger ones into a state school this year, along with all the mestizos and the negroes …
MAMAE: (
Opening her eyes
) The mestizos … Yes, it was there, every evening, just when the labourers were returning from the plantations. In the suburb, where the mestizos and the negroes live. In the shanties of La Mar.
AMELIA: You don’t imagine I spend those three thousand
soles
you give me on myself, do you, Agustín? Every cent goes on Belisario’s education. I can’t even buy myself a handkerchief. I’ve even given up smoking, to save you any more expense.
BELISARIO: (
Looking at the audience, exaggerating
) Me, get a job? No, mother, it’s out of the question. What about the statutory regulations? What about the civil code? The constitutions? The laws of contract? Written law? Common law? I thought you wanted me to become famous so I’d be able to help you all out one day? Well, you’ve got to give me more money for books then! How cynical you could be at times, Belisario.
AGUSTIN: But Belisario could always get a part-time job,
Amelia. Hundreds of university students do. You know I’ve always supported your son – and you, ever since your husband killed himself in that stupid way. But things have become very tough recently, and Belisario is quite grown up now. Let me look for a job for him.
CESAR: No, Agustín, Amelia’s right. He must be allowed to finish at the university first. Or he’ll go the same way as I did. I gave up studying to start a job and look at the result. But he was always top of the class. He’s bound to go far. He needs a degree though, because nowadays … (
His voice fades down to a whisper, as
MAMAE’
s voice comes to the fore.
)
MAMAE: I’ve often been past those shanties. With Uncle Menelao and Aunt Amelia, on the way to the sea. Negroes, mestizos and Indians would come up to us, begging. They’d put their hands right inside the carriage and I remember Uncle Menelao saying: ‘What revolting nails they have.’ I used to be so frightened of them. La Mar looks pretty from a distance with its thatched huts and sandy streets. But when you’re there, you can see that it’s poor, dirty and smelly and it’s full of savage dogs. So it was there you used to meet her.
JOAQUIN: Yes. There. In La Mar. Every evening. We’d meet and watch the sun going down.
(
The conversation between
AGUSTIN, AMELIA
and
CESAR
now comes to the fore.
)
AGUSTIN: Everyone has his reasons, of course. Well, I’ve got mine too. You see, I could say I was fed up with living in lodgings, travelling by bus, and not being able to get married. Ever since the day I started work, over half my salary has been going towards helping Mother and Father, not to mention Amelia and my nephew. I could say I was fed up never being able to go to a good restaurant, never having any holidays, and always having to have my suits repaired. And because I’m fed up, from now on I’m only going to contribute two thousand
soles
a month towards the upkeep of this house. The same as you. What then
would happen to Father and Mother and Mamaé – and what would happen to our future legal genius?
AMELIA: Don’t be so scornful, Agustín. My son will be a great lawyer one day, you’ll see, he’ll have masses of clients and he’ll earn a fortune. I’m not sending him out to work until he finishes his studies. He won’t be a failure and a mediocrity.
AGUSTIN: Like me, you mean.
MAMAE: So every evening, after your guard duty, as I waited for you, saying rosary after rosary to make the time pass more quickly, you were already on your way to her, to La Mar, where you’d talk passionately to her for hours.
JOAQUIN: My little soldier’s girl, my love, your hands – they’re so strong – and yet so soft and gentle. Hold my head here, at the temples, I’ve been riding all morning and my body is throbbing. Press a little harder. It’s so soothing. That’s right. Ah yes, I feel as if my head were sinking into a bed of jasmine.
BELISARIO: You saw straight through me, didn’t you, Uncle Agustín?
CESAR: No. Please, don’t start up again. It’s the same thing day after day. Hasn’t it caused enough bad blood as it is? Instead of arguing, why don’t you think seriously about what I suggested?
AMELIA: I have, César. I’m ready to go along with it. I was against it at first, but I’ve changed my mind.
CESAR: Of course, Amelia. It’s the only sensible thing to do.
(
Looks at
MAMAE.) She’s already living in another world; she won’t even notice the change. You’ll be more relaxed; you’ll have more time for Mother and Father. They’ll live more comfortably. And it’s even quite likely that Mamaé will be happier, too.
(JOAQUIN
has taken hold of
MAMAE’
s hands; he kisses them passionately.
)
JOAQUIN: But there’s something else about you, Carlota, something I like even more than your hands.
MAMAE: (
Frightened
) What? What else was it you liked about that woman?
AGUSTIN: So we put Mamaé into a home, do we? I see. Do you really think that’s going to solve things. Of course it’s very easy. Especially when you’re all no doubt thinking of that private place, San Isidro, where Aunt Augusta was. I’m sure Mamaé would be fine there. It’s so clean, and they’ve got nurses looking after the old people day and night, they take them out for walks in the gardens. They even show them a film once a week, don’t they? (
Sarcastically
) Have you any idea how much that place costs?
JOAQUIN: Your neck. Let me kiss it, let me smell your sweetness. Yes. Yes, that’s right. Now I want to kiss your ears, put my tongue into those snug little lairs, nibble those pink little lobes. That’s why I love you, my little soldier’s girl. You know how to give me pleasure. You’re not like Elvira, that passionless dummy. She thinks love is all about reading poetry by an idiot who calls himself Federico Barreto.
AGUSTIN: Mamaé wouldn’t go to San Isidro. She’d go to the Beneficencia, which is free. You don’t know about that place, do you? But I’ve taken the trouble to go and see it. The old people there all live on top of each other in the most filthy conditions. They hardly even have any clothes to wear. They’re eaten alive by lice, and they sleep on the floor on sacks. What’s more, it’s in Santo Cristo next to the cemetery so that the old people spend all day watching funerals. Do you really want to send Mamaé there?
MAMAE: (
Very distressed, almost in tears
) We weren’t yet married, Joaquín. I couldn’t let you lose respect for me. It would have lowered me in your eyes. It was for you I did it, for you. So that you would have a wife you wouldn’t be ashamed of.
CESAR: And do you really think Mamaé lives well here? Have you lost all sense of smell, Agustín. You say yourself that every time you have to have a cup of milk in this house, it practically turns your stomach. You must understand I’m not suggesting the home out of spite or anything, but to save you expense. I love her as much as you do.
MAMAE: And what was so wrong about the poetry? That’s how things were in those days. When a woman was in love she read poetry. That’s what young ladies and gentlemen did, Joaquín. Federico Barreto was certainly no fool. He was a great poet. All the girls in Tacna were dying of envy when he wrote those lines on my fan.
AMELIA: (
To
AGUSTIN) Do you think I’ve no feelings? I’m the one who baths her, puts her to bed, dresses her; I’m the one who feeds her, don’t forget. But … you’re right. We can’t send Mamaé there. Besides, it’s true – Mother would never agree to it.
JOAQUIN: What a wonderful couple we’d have made, my little soldier’s girl. Such a pity you’re married! When I think of that frigid little saint … I ask myself, will she be capable of satisfying me, when I feel those waves of passion welling up inside me as I do now, ready to break at any moment? (
Speaking in her ear
) Shall I tell you what I’m going to do to Elvira when she’s my wife?
MAMAE: (
Covering her ears
) No! No! I don’t want to know.
CESAR: All right. Then I’m sorry I even spoke. Let’s forget about the home. I’m only trying to help, to throw out a few ideas. And all you do is to make me feel worthless.
JOAQUIN: With these hands … I’ll undress her. I’ll take off her bridal veil, her dress, her petticoat, her bodice. Her shoes. Her stockings. Slowly, watching her blush, not knowing what to say, what to do, where to look. A young girl overcome with shyness and fear is an exciting prospect.
AGUSTIN: Come down to earth, César. You’re not going to solve the problem with brainless suggestions. If, instead of all these far-fetched schemes, you were to give me another five hundred
soles
towards the running of this house, you really would be helping.
(
Throughout the scene,
BELISARIO
has been writing at his desk. He has also been listening and observing his family,
MAMAE
and
JOAQUIN.
He now starts to yawn. He works more and more reluctantly
.)
JOAQUIN: And when her skin starts to quiver with fear, as I gradually uncover it, I’ll lean over, and smell it, taste it,
cover it with feverish kisses. Are you jealous my little soldier’s girl? Can you see me running my hands, my eyes, my lips over that tender little body? Can you see her trembling, her eyes closed. Are you jealous? I want you to be jealous, Carlota.
MAMAE: I’m not listening to you. I’m covering my ears, I’m shutting you out. I’m closing my eyes, I don’t want to see you either. You can’t insult me however hard you try, you’re not going to drag me down to your common level. Oh, this crazy little head …
(
She hits her head as if punishing it for giving her these hallucinations.
)
AMELIA: Quiet now, Father’s coming.
(
Enter
GRANDFATHER
and
GRANDMOTHER. AGUSTIN
and
CESAR
come forward to kiss their father
. BELISARIO
has put down his pen. He rests for a moment, his head on his arm.
)
BELISARIO: (
Yawning
) The world won’t come to an end because you can’t finish a story, Belisario. Go on, have a little nap.
GRANDFATHER: You got all worked up about nothing. I’m perfectly all right. That … that brigand didn’t do me any harm. But at least it’s got them to pay us a visit. They haven’t been here for weeks.
CESAR: But we were here all yesterday afternoon, Father.
JOAQUIN: And then, when she’s surrendered herself totally to me, and her body’s all wet with my kisses, I’ll make her take all my clothes off too. Just as you do. I’ll teach her obedience. I’ll train her like my horse: so that she’ll only allow me to handle her. And while she’s undressing me, I’ll be thinking about you. About all those things only you know how to do to me. I’ll feel my blood getting hotter. I’ll put off making love to her till the very last moment, then when I do, I’ll be thinking all the time I’m with you, Carlota.
(
He caresses
MAMAE
’s breasts.
)
MAMAE: No. No. Go away, get out of here. I won’t let you, not even in my wildest dreams, not even when I’m your wife. Aunt Amelia! Uncle Menelao! Carmencita! Ahhh! Ahhh!
(JOAQUIN
disappears, smiling
. AMELIA, AGUSTIN, CESAR,
and the
GRANDPARENTS
turn to look at
MAMAE
when they hear her shouting.
)
GRANDMOTHER: What’s the matter, Mamaé? Why do you shout the whole time like a maniac?
MAMAE: (
Suffocating, embarrassed
) I dreamt my fiancé was trying to touch my breasts, Carmencita. These Chileans are so forward! They even take liberties with you in your sleep! These Chileans, really!
(
She crosses herself, horrified.
BELISARIO
has fallen asleep over his papers. His pencil slips out of his hand and falls on to the floor. He starts to snore.
)
As the curtain rises, the
GRANDPARENTS
are listening to the Sunday Mass on the old wireless set they keep in the small drawing room of their house. The voice of the priest drones on monotonously and
GRANDMOTHER
and
MAMAE
genuflect and cross themselves at the appropriate moments
. GRANDFATHER
listens reluctantly. At intervals we hear the tram passing
. AMELIA
is laying the table for supper. She moves in and out of the room without paying any attention to the Mass on the wireless.
BELISARIO,
who has fallen asleep at his desk, slowly wakes up. He yawns, rubs his eyes and reads over something he has written. Suddenly something occurs to him which makes him jump up in great excitement and take hold of the little chair in which he has been sitting. He leans against it like a little old man who can’t walk and starts to make his way slowly across the stage, dragging himself along with little hops and skips
(
exactly as we will see
MAMAE
doing later
).
 
BELISARIO: That time Grandfather was robbed, could she still walk then? Could you, Mamaé? Yes, this was how it was, with your little wooden chair, like a child playing gee-gees. From your bedroom to the bathroom, from the bathroom to the armchair, from the armchair to the dining room, and from the dining room back to your bedroom again: the geography of your world. (
Reflects; repeats the expression, savouring it
.) The geography of your world, Mamaé. I like it, Belisario!
(
He runs to his desk and writes something down. Then he starts to chew his pencil, lost in the world of his memories
.) Of course you were still walking. You only stopped when Grandfather died. ‘She hasn’t yet realized,’ Mama would say. ‘She doesn’t understand,’ Uncle César and Uncle Agustín would say. (
Looks at
MAMAE.) Did you really not realize that in that house that was already so full of ghosts, there was now one more to add to its number? Of course you did, Mamaé! (
Jots down a few notes on the paper in front of him.
) You loved Grandfather very much, didn’t you, Mamaé? Just how much did you love him? And in
what way? What about that letter? And that thrashing? And the wicked Indian woman from Camaná? The gentleman always seemed to be linked to that letter and that Indian woman in the stories about the young lady from Tacna. What was behind so mysterious, scandalous, and sinful a story, Mamaé? Mysterious, scandalous, sinful! I like it! I like it!
(
He starts to write furiously.
)
AMELIA: (
Who has already served up the soup
) Supper is ready!
(
The Mass has finished and a commercial break has begun with an advertisement for Chocolate Sublime.
AMELIA
turns the wireless off. The
GRANDPARENTS
go and sit down at the table
. GRANDFATHER
seems very downcast. MAMAE raises herself laboriously out of her armchair and takes a little step forward
. AMELIA
runs to help her
.)
Do you want to break your leg? Where are you going without your chair, Mamaé?
(
She takes
MAMAE
by the arm and guides her towards the table.
)
MAMAE: To church. That’s where I’m going. To pray. I want to go to Mass, to confession. I’m sick of listening to Mass on the wireless. It’s not the same. The priest can say what he likes. It just isn’t. Your mind wanders, you can’t take it seriously.
(MAMAE
and
AMELIA
sit down. They start to eat.
)
GRANDMOTHER: Then my husband will have to carry you, Mamaé. It would take you hours to get to the Church of the Fatima with that little chair of yours. (
To
GRANDFATHER) Remember, Pedro, how you used to carry us across the river when we came to visit you in Camaná? How we used to scream and yell!
(GRANDFATHER
nods listlessly
.)
AMELIA: What’s the matter, Papa? You haven’t opened your mouth all day.
GRANDMOTHER: I try to talk to you and all you do is nod like one of those giant-headed creatures at Carnival. You make me feel like an idiot. Are you ill?
GRANDFATHER: No, my little funny face, there’s nothing the
matter with me. I’m all right. I was just finishing up this … thingumajig, before it gets cold.
AMELIA: Soup, Papa.
GRANDMOTHER: What’s this mania you’ve got for calling everything a thingumajig? If you forget what it is, ask. Can’t you see it’s soup?
MAMAE: A pig’s breakfast, that’s what it is.
GRANDFATHER: (
In an effort to speak
) No, it’s good. It just needs a little salt perhaps.
BELISARIO: (
Looking up from his papers
) He thought everything was good; he called everything a thingumajig, and everything needed salt. A man who never complained about anything, except not being able to find work in his old age. Grandmother, in all the fifty years she’d been married to him, never heard him raise his voice once. That’s why the thrashing that Indian woman from Camaná got seemed so inconceivable, Mamaé. In his last few years, salt became an obsession with him. He put salt in his coffee, salt on his pudding. And he thought everything was –
GRANDFATHER: Splendid! Splendid!
(BELISARIO
starts to write again
.)
GRANDMOTHER: I know what’s wrong with you, Pedro. Before, when you went out for your little walks, you’d go just to make sure the outside world was still there. And when your children stopped you, they took away the one pleasure you had left in life.
AMELIA: You say it, Mama, as if we’d done it deliberately to torment him.
GRANDFATHER: Am I complaining?
GRANDMOTHER: It would be a great deal easier if you did.
GRANDFATHER: Right then, if it’ll make you any happier, I’ll spend the whole day grumbling. I can’t think what about though, my little funny face.
GRANDMOTHER: I’m not getting at you, dear. Do you think I enjoy keeping you cloistered up in here? Look, after lunch we’ll go for a walk round the block. I just hope to God my varicose veins don’t start playing me up again.
(AMELIA
gets up and collects the plates
.)
AMELIA: You haven’t had your soup, Mamaé.
MAMAE: Soup? A dog’s dinner more like – and a rabid one at that!
AMELIA: (
Going out
) If you knew what my brothers gave me for the housekeeping, you’d realize I perform miracles just to get you all two square meals a day.
GRANDMOTHER: Those visits to church … Yes, Mamaé, what a consolation they were. We’d go to the Fatima one day, the next to the Carmelites. Do you remember that time we went walking as far as the Parish of Miraflores. We had to stop at every corner, we were so exhausted.
MAMAE: Those negroes singing and dancing in the middle of Mass takes some getting used to. It’s like a party. They’re such heathens!
(AMELIA
comes in with the second course
.
She serves the
GRANDPARENTS
and
MAMAE
and sits down.
)
AMELIA: Negroes? In the Parish of Miraflores?
MAMAE: In the Parish of La Mar.
AMELIA: Miraflores, Mamaé.
GRANDMOTHER: She’s talking about Tacna, dear. Before you were born. La Mar. A shanty town full of negroes and Indians, on the outskirts of the town. I did some watercolours of La Mar, when I was studying under Maestro Modesto Molina …
AMELIA: Mamaé used to go to Mass in a shanty town full of negroes and Indians?
GRANDMOTHER: We went there several times – on Sundays. There was a little timber chapel with reed matting. After Mamaé broke off her engagement, she got it into her head she’d either go to Mass in La Mar or she wouldn’t go at all. She could be as stubborn as a mule.
MAMAE: (
Following her own train of thought
) Padre Venancio says it’s not a sin, that it’s all right for them to dance and sing at Mass. He says God forgives them because they don’t know what they’re doing. He’s one of these avant-garde little priests …
GRANDMOTHER: It was wonderful entertainment though, wasn’t it, Mamaé? All those Masses and Novenas, all those
Holy Week processions and Stations of the Cross. There was always something to do, thanks to the Church. One was more in touch with life somehow. It’s not the same praying in private, you’re quite right. It was so different fulfilling one’s religious obligations surrounded by ordinary people. These varicose veins … (
Looks at her husband
.) To think of all those brash young men who pretend to be atheists, then return to the fold in their old age – well, it’s been quite the reverse with you, dear.
AMELIA: It’s true, Papa. You never used to miss Mass; you never ate meat on Fridays, and you used to take Communion several times a year. What made you change?
GRANDFATHER: I don’t know what you’re talking about, my dear.
GRANDMOTHER: Of course you’ve changed, Pedro. You stopped going to church. And you only went latterly to keep Mamaé and me company. You didn’t even kneel at the Elevation. And, whenever we listen to Mass here on the wireless, you don’t even bother to cross yourself. Don’t you believe in God any more?
GRANDFATHER: Look, I don’t know. It’s strange … but I don’t think about it, I don’t care.
GRANDMOTHER: Don’t you care whether God exists or not? Don’t you care if there’s an afterlife?
GRANDFATHER: (
Trying to joke
) I must be losing my curiosity in my old age.
GRANDMOTHER: What nonsense you talk, Pedro. A fine consolation it would be if God didn’t exist and there was no afterlife.
GRANDFATHER: All right then, God does exist and there is an afterlife. Don’t let’s argue about something so trivial.
MAMAE: But when it comes to confession he’s the best of the lot! (
To
GRANDMOTHER,
who looks at her surprised
.) Father Venancio! What a way he has with words! He captivates you, he hypnotizes you! Father Venancio, I’ve committed a mortal sin, all because of that Indian woman from Camaná and that damned letter.
(
She puts her hand in front of her mouth
,
frightened at what
she has said. She looks at the
GRANDPARENTS
and
AMELIA.
But they are concentrating on their food, as if they hadn’t heard her. However,
BELISARIO
has stopped writing. He looks up
and
we can see from his expression that he is profoundly intrigued.
)
BELISARIO: It’s clear that the young lady never had the slightest doubt about the existence of God, or about the true faith: it was Catholic, Apostolic and Roman. There’s no doubt she fulfilled her religious obligations with the unerring simplicity of a star moving around the universe: she went to church, took Communion, said her prayers, and went to confession.
(MAMAE,
who has been moving very laboriously over towards
BELISARIO,
now kneels in front of him as if she is at confession
.)
MAMAE: Forgive me, Father Venancio, for I have sinned.
BELISARIO: (
Giving her the Benediction
) When was the last time you came to confession, my child?
MAMAE: A fortnight ago, father.
BELISARIO: Have you offended against God these last two weeks?
MAMAE: I confess that I gave in to feelings of anger, father.
BELISARIO: How many times?
MAMAE: Twice. The first was last Tuesday. Amelia was cleaning the bathroom. She was taking her time and I was wanting to obey a call of nature. I was too ashamed to ask her to leave. Carmen and Pedro were there and they would have realized that I wanted to go to the lavatory. So I said as casually as I could, ‘Get a move on with the bathroom, would you, Amelia.’ But she just carried on as if there was all the time in the world. Well, I was feeling quite uncomfortable by now, what with the cramp in my stomach, and I was coming out in a cold sweat. So I cursed her, mentally of course. But I felt like shouting, ‘You confounded idiot! You disagreeable slut! You …’
BELISARIO: And the second time, my child?
MAMAE: That treacherous little devil poured away my bottle of eau-de-Cologne. I’d been given it as a present. The family
is not well off at the moment, father, so for them it was a lot of money. Amelia and the boys always give me presents for my birthday and at Christmas, and I depend on them. I was pleased with that Cologne. It had a lovely smell. But that little devil opened the bottle and emptied it down the sink. All because I wouldn’t tell him a story, Father Venancio.
BELISARIO: Was I the treacherous little devil, Mamaé?
MAMAE: Yes, father.
BELISARIO: Did you box my ears? Did you spank me?
MAMAE: I never lay a finger on him. Well, he’s not my grandchild, is he? I’m only an aunt, a sort of second fiddle in the orchestra. But when I saw that empty Cologne bottle, father, I was so angry, I locked myself in the bathroom and stood there in front of the mirror, saying rude words.

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