Rachel

Angelina Weld Grimké

• Publisher: Oberon Books
• Year: 2014
• ISBN:
  9781783196869
• Edition: 1
• Topic: Médias et arts de la scène
• Subtopic: Dramaturgie théâtre

'Today, we colored men and women, everywhere - are up against it...In the South, they make it as impossible as they can for us to get educated. In the North, they make a pretence of liberality; they give us the ballot and a good education, and then snuff us out. Each year, the problem just to live, gets more difficult to solve.' The first play by an African American woman ever produced professionally. The European premiere – and the world's first production for nearly 100 years – of Rachel is directed by exciting young director Ola Ince, as part of Black History Month. Rachel is a young, educated, middle-class woman. But she is born into an African-American family in the early 20th century – a world in which ignorance and violence prevail. While her family and neighbours find different ways to survive, Rachel's dreams of getting married and becoming a mother collide with the tragic events of her family's past as she confronts the harsh reality of a racist world. Written exactly midway between the American Civil War and the end of slavery, and the explosion of Civil Rights in the 1960s, this hauntingly beautiful and profoundly shocking play still asks urgent questions for today.

ACT II.

TIME: October sixteenth, four years later; seven o’clock in the morning.

SCENE: The same room. There have been very evident improvements made. The room is not so bare; it is cosier. On the shelf, before each window, are potted red geraniums. At the windows are green denim drapery curtains covering fresh white dotted Swiss inner curtains. At each doorway are green denim portieres. On the wall between the kitchenette and the entrance to the outer rooms of the flat, a new picture is hanging, Millet’s “The Man With the Hoe.” Hanging against the side of the run that faces front is Watts’s “Hope.” There is another easy-chair at the left front. The table in the center is covered with a white table-cloth. A small asparagus fern is in the middle of this. When the curtain rises there is the clatter of dishes in the kitchenette. Presently Rachel enters with dishes and silver in her hands. She is clad in a bungalow apron. She is noticeably all of four years older. She frowns as she sets the table. There is a set expression about the mouth. A child’s voice is heard from the rooms within.

JIMMY (Still unseen): Ma Rachel!

RACHEL (Pauses and smiles): What is it, Jimmy boy?

JIMMY (Appearing in rear doorway, half-dressed, breathless, and tremendously excited over something. Rushes toward Rachel): Three guesses! Three guesses! Ma Rachel!

RACHEL (Her whole face softening): Well, let’s see—maybe there is a circus in town.

JIMMY: No siree! (In a sing-song) You’re not right! You’re not right!

RACHEL: Well, maybe Ma Loving’s going to take you somewhere.

JIMMY: No! (Vigorously shaking his head) It’s—

RACHEL (Interrupting quickly) You said I could have three guesses, honey. I’ve only had two.

JIMMY: I thought you had three. How many are three?

RACHEL (Counting on her fingers): One! Two! Three! I’ve only had one! two!—See? Perhaps Uncle Tom is going to give you some candy.

JIMMY (Dancing up and down): No! No! No! (Catches his breath) I leaned over the bath-tub, way over, and got hold of the chain with the button on the end, and dropped it into the little round place in the bottom. And then I runned lots and lots of water in the tub and climbed over and fell in splash! just like a big stone; (Loudly) and took a bath all by myself alone.

RACHEL (Laughing and hugging him): All by yourself, honey? You ran the water, too, boy, not “runned” it. What I want to know is, where was Ma Loving all this time?

JIMMY: I stole in “creepy-creep” and looked at Ma Loving and she was awful fast asleep. (Proudly) Ma Rachel, I’m a “nawful,” big boy now, aren’t I? I are almost a man, aren’t I?

RACHEL: Oh! Boy, I’m getting tired of correcting you—“I am almost a man, am I not?” Jimmy, boy, what will Ma Rachel do, if you grow up? Why, I won’t have a little boy any more! Honey, you mustn’t grow up, do you hear? You mustn’t.

JIMMY: Oh, yes, I must; and you’ll have me just the same, Ma Rachel. I’m going to be a policeman and make lots of money for you and Ma Loving and Uncle Tom, and I’m going to buy you some trains and fire-engines, and little, cunning ponies, and some rabbits, and some great ’normous banks full of money—lots of it. And then, we are going to live in a great, big castle and eat lots of ice cream, all the time, and drink lots and lots of nice pink lemonade.

RACHEL: What a generous Jimmy boy! (Hugs him). Before I give you “morning kiss,” I must see how clean my boy is. (Inspects teeth, ears and neck). Jimmy, you’re sweet and clean enough to eat. (Kisses him; he tries to strangle her with hugs). Now the hands. Oh! Jimmy, look at those nails! Oh! Jimmy! (Jimmy wriggles and tries to get his hands away). Honey, get my file off of my bureau and go to Ma Loving; she must be awake by this time. Why, honey, what’s the matter with your feet?

JIMMY. I don’t know. I thought they looked kind of queer, myself. What’s the matter with them?

RACHEL (Laughing): You have your shoes on the wrong feet.

JIMMY (Bursts out laughing): Isn’t that most ’normously funny? I’m a case, aren’t I—(pauses thoughtfully) I mean—am I not, Ma Rachel?

RACHEL: Yes, honey, a great big case of molasses. Come, you must hurry now, and get dressed. You don’t want to be late for school, you know.

JIMMY: Ma Rachel! (Shyly) I—I have been making something for you all the morning—ever since I waked up. It’s awful nice. It’s—stoop down, Ma Rachel, please—a great, big (puts both arms about her neck and gives her a noisy kiss. Rachel kisses him in return, then pushes his head back. For a long moment they look at each other; and, then, laughing joyously, he makes believe he is a horse, and goes prancing out of the room. Rachel, with a softer, gentler expression, continues setting the table. Presently, Mrs. Loving, bent and worn-looking, appears in the doorway in the rear. She limps a trifle.)

MRS. LOVING: Good morning, dearie. How’s my little girl, this morning? (Looks around the room). Why, where’s Tom? I was certain I heard him running the water in the tub, sometime ago. (Limps into the room).

RACHEL (Laughing): Tom isn’t up yet. Have you seen Jimmy?

MRS. LOVING: Jimmy? No. I didn’t know he was awake, even.

RACHEL (Going to her mother and kissing her): Well! What do you think of that! I sent the young gentleman to you, a few minutes ago, for help with his nails. He is very much grown up this morning, so I suppose that explains why he didn’t come to you. Yesterday, all day, you know, he was a puppy. No one knows what he will be by tomorrow. All of this, Ma dear, is preliminary to telling you that Jimmy boy has stolen a march on you, this morning.

MRS. LOVING: Stolen a march! How?

RACHEL: It appears that he took his bath all by himself and, as a result, he is so conceited, peacocks aren’t in it with him.

MRS. LOVING: I heard the water running and thought, of course, it was Tom. Why, the little rascal! I must go and see how he has left things. I was just about to wake him up.

RACHEL: Rheumatism’s not much better this morning, Ma dear. (Confronting her mother) Tell me the truth, now, did you or did you not try that liniment I bought you yesterday?

MRS. LOVING (Guiltily): Well, Rachel, you see—it was this way, I was—I was so tired, last night,—I—I really forgot it.

RACHEL: I thought as much. Shame on you!

MRS. LOVING: As soon as I walk around a bit it will be all right. It always is. It’s bad, when I first get up—that’s all. I’ll be spry enough in a few minutes. (Limps to the door; pauses) Rachel, I don’t know why the thought should strike me, but how very strangely things turn out. If any one had told me four years ago that Jimmy would be living with us, I should have laughed at him. Then it hurt to see him; now it would hurt not to. (Softly) Rachel, sometimes—I wonder—if, perhaps, God—hasn’t relented a little—and given me back my boy,—my George.

RACHEL: The whole thing was strange, wasn’t it?

MRS. LOVING: Yes, God’s ways are strange and often very beautiful; perhaps all would be beautiful—if we only understood.

RACHEL: God’s ways are certainly very mysterious. Why, of all the people in this apartment-house, should Jimmy’s father and mother be the only two to take the smallpox, and the only two to die. It’s queer!

MRS. LOVING: It doesn’t seem like two years ago, does it?

RACHEL: Two years, Ma dear! Why it’s three the third of January.

MRS. LOVING: Are you sure, Rachel?

RACHEL (Gently): I don’t believe I could ever forget that, Ma dear.

MRS. LOVING: No, I suppose not. That is one of the differences between youth and old age—youth attaches tremendous importance to dates,—old age does not.

RACHEL (Quic...