The Story of 'M'

SuAndi

• Publisher: Oberon Books
• Year: 2017
• Print ISBN:
  9781786821157
• Edition: 1
• eBook ISBN:
  9781786821164
• Topic: Literature
• Subtopic: British Drama
• Index: Literature

The Story of M is a solo performance that integrates visual projections and poetic language to portray autobiographical stories of racism, poverty and sacrifice. While sitting in a white screened hospital ward and as slides of family photographs flash all around her, SuAndi travels from the multi-racial Liverpool of the 1920s to life in Britain in the mid-nineties.

Commissioned by the Institute for Contemporary Arts in 1995, The Story of M has received great critical acclaim in both the United States and Great Britain. The Story of M is SuAndi's moving tribute to the life and death of her mother who raised her children in the face of frequent racism 1960s but never let them forget they were of African descent and to be proud of their heritages.

The Story of 'M' is on the new A-levels English Literature syllabus - with a Black British list – offered by EdExcel Examination Board (2017).

SCENE ONE

Hospital room with a single bed with a screen to the side. A chair next to a small locker on which is placed a jug of water, tissues and a flower vase. ‘M’ is led onto the stage by a nurse; she is continuously coughing.

I’ve got cancer. I have.

Bloody cancer

And I know exactly when I got it –

eating a jam cream sponge cake

with my daughter’s boyfriend.

I suppose you’ll think I’m daft

Me calling him her boyfriend

what with him being gay!

But he is,

he’s her boyfriend

and for me he’s like a second son.

I was over at their place.

They live together.

Not together like,

But you know, together.

I was eating this jam cream sponge cake–

It was my first for months

I’d been dieting

Getting ready for her coming home.

I was born big — me.

Big!

Always was.

Take the time I tried to join the

Sally Army now you’ll not believe this.

They wouldn’t let me in

Because my legs were too big for the boots.

Christianity my big toe.

Hi get it?

Big toe, big foot, big leg,

Oh never mind

I’d lost two stone

thought it was a bloody miracle–

when suddenly

I get this massive pain

and wow cancer.

Think of all those cream cakes

I could have eaten.

Now I’m here, two parts dead.

Going over me life

like you do,

like you all will,

given the chance.

Not like poor Malcolm¹–

No cancer for him–

Just a bloody racist

With a gun.

But for me–

it’s a long drawn-out death.

And you’d be amazed

how those memories

come flooding back.

SCENE TWO

M sleeps (Nurse) picks up then drops a kidney tray.

Munitions?

All my friends worked in munitions²,

but not me.

I’ve always been really sensitive to smells.

I was always passing out in church.

Used to drive the nuns crazy.

So I went into the laundries.

Loved it–

All that cleanliness,

Messing about with the suds.

Played bloody murder with your hands

And the heat could burn the end of your nose off.

Anyways there I was this day

When the new chargehand goes past

And says, loud enough for me to hear like,

I bet this heat doesn’t bother some people.

Them that belong in jungle!

Well bugger that. I was off.

The rest stayed, but not me.

I knew better.

There were folk from all over the world

Doing their bit for the war effort and here

was this fool talking about the bloody jungle.

I bet he’d been no further than top of the street.

Anyway –

I could wash at home

For my son and my husband.

Husband!

Bastard more like!

Don’t get me wrong. I like men.

It took some time, I’ll admit, what with me

being born a Catholic

And thinking any man, not wearing a

frock (a black frock naturally,) was suspect.

I suppose that’s why you never see

Jesus in trousers — because the Catholic

Church has spread so many stories

about the evil in them.

Well I found out the hard way.

I wasn’t just naive,

I was thick.

First man that said he loved me, got me–

and not a wedding vow on his lips.

But being the Catholic that I was

I believed in the sanctity of marriage.

So I took him to court.

He was scared shitless!

The first day he stood in the dock

looking like the very criminal he was.

The next day he brought half the ship’s

crew with him,

And they testified.

I’d been with them all.

A prostitute he...

Table of contents

• Front Cover
• Half-Title Page
• Title Page
• Copyright Page
• Contents
• Thanks and Acknowledgements
• Production History
• ‘Mothertext: Restoring the Mixed Matrilineal Routes to Heritage’ by Deirdre Osborne
• The Story of M
• Selected Poems by SuAndi
• Selected Published Work by SuAndi
• Works Cited and Indicative Further Reading