eBook - ePub
The Road to Mecca
Athol Fugard
This is a test
Share book
- 80 pages
- English
- ePUB (mobile friendly)
- Available on iOS & Android
eBook - ePub
The Road to Mecca
Athol Fugard
Book details
Book preview
Table of contents
Citations
About This Book
A South African pastor and a young teacher from Cape Town battle over the fate of an eccentric elderly widow.
Frequently asked questions
How do I cancel my subscription?
Can/how do I download books?
At the moment all of our mobile-responsive ePub books are available to download via the app. Most of our PDFs are also available to download and we're working on making the final remaining ones downloadable now. Learn more here.
What is the difference between the pricing plans?
Both plans give you full access to the library and all of Perlegoās features. The only differences are the price and subscription period: With the annual plan youāll save around 30% compared to 12 months on the monthly plan.
What is Perlego?
We are an online textbook subscription service, where you can get access to an entire online library for less than the price of a single book per month. With over 1 million books across 1000+ topics, weāve got you covered! Learn more here.
Do you support text-to-speech?
Look out for the read-aloud symbol on your next book to see if you can listen to it. The read-aloud tool reads text aloud for you, highlighting the text as it is being read. You can pause it, speed it up and slow it down. Learn more here.
Is The Road to Mecca an online PDF/ePUB?
Yes, you can access The Road to Mecca by Athol Fugard in PDF and/or ePUB format, as well as other popular books in Literature & African Drama. We have over one million books available in our catalogue for you to explore.
Information
ACT
1
The living room and, leading off it, the bedroom alcove of a house in the small Karoo village of New Bethesda. An extraordinary room by virtue of the attempt to use as much light and color as is humanly possible. The wallsāmirrors on all of themāare all of different colors, while on the ceiling and floor are solid, multicolored geometric patterns. Yet the final effect is not bizarre but rather one of light and extravagant fantasy. Just what the room is really about will be revealed later when its candles and lampsāagain, a multitude of them of every size, shape and colorāare lit. The late afternoon light does, however, give some hint of the magic to come.
Miss Helen is in the bedroom alcove. A frail, birdlike little woman in her late sixties. A suggestion of personal neglect, particularly in her clothes, which are shabby and were put on with obvious indifference to the final effect. She is nervously fussing around an old-fashioned washstand, laying out towels, soap, etc., etc, and from time to time directs her attention to the living room and a door leading from it to the rest of the house. In the course of moving around she sees an overnight bag and a briefcase on the floor near the living-room entrance. She fetches these and carries them into the alcove.
Elsa enters, a strong young woman in her late twenties dressed in a track suit or something else suitable for a long motorcar ride.
ELSA: Not cold enough yet for the car to freeze up, is it?
HELEN: No. No danger of that. We havenāt had any frost yet.
ELSA: Iām too exhausted to put it away. (Collapses on the bed) Whew! Thank God thatās over. Another hour and I would have been wiped out. That road gets longer and longer every time.
HELEN: Your hot water is nearly ready.
ELSA: Good. (Starts to unpack her overnight bag)
HELEN: Nice clean towels . . . and Iāve opened that box of scented soaps you brought me last time.
ELSA: What? Oh, those. Havenāt you used them yet?
HELEN: Of course not! I was keeping them for a special occasion.
ELSA: And this is it?
HELEN: Yes. An unexpected visit from you is a very special occasion. Is that all your luggage?
ELSA: When I said a short visit I really meant it.
HELEN: Such a long way to drive for just one night.
ELSA: I know.
HELEN: You donāt think you could . . .?
ELSA: Stay longer?
HELEN: Even just two nights?
ELSA: Impossible. Weāre right in the middle of exams. Iāve got to be in that classroom at eight-thirty on Monday morning. As it is I should be sitting at home right now marking papers. Iāve even brought a pile of them with me just in case I get a chance up here. (Starts to undressā track-suit top, sneakers and socks)
HELEN: Put anything you want washed on one side and Iāll get a message to Katrina first thing in the morning.
ELSA: Donāt bother her with that. I can do it myself.
HELEN: You canāt leave without seeing Katrina! Sheāll never forgive me if I donāt let her know youāre here. Please . . . even if itās only for a few minutes.
ELSA: I wonāt leave without seeing Katrina, Miss Helen! But I donāt need her to wash a pair of pants and a bra for me. I do my own washing.
HELEN: Iām sorry . . . I just thought you might. . . . Thereās an empty drawer here if you want to pack anything away.
ELSA (An edge to her voice): Please stop fussing, Miss Helen! I know my way around by now.
HELEN: Itās just that if Iād known you were coming, I would have had everything ready for you.
ELSA: Everything is fine just the way it is.
HELEN: No, it isnāt! I donāt even know that Iāve got enough in the kitchen for a decent supper tonight. I did buy bread yesterday, but for the rest . . .
ELSA: Please, Miss Helen! If we need anything, Iāll get old Retief to open his shop for us. In any case, Iām not hungry. All I need at this moment is a good wash and a chance to unwind so that I can forget Iāve been sitting in a motorcar for twelve hours.
HELEN: Be patient with me, Elsie. Remember the little saying: āPatience is a virtue, virtue is a grace, and āā
ELSA (Unexpectedly sharp): For Godās sake, Helen! Just leave me alone for a few minutes!
Pause.
HELEN (Timidly): Iāll get your hot water
Miss Helen exits. Elsa slumps down on the bed, her head in her hands. Miss Helen returns a few seconds later with a large kettle of hot water. She handles it with difficulty.
Iāve got the small one on for tea.
ELSA: Let me do that!
She jumps up and takes the kettle away from Miss Helen. The two women stand staring at each other for a few seconds. Elsa puts down the kettle and then puts her hands on Miss Helenās shoulders.
My turn to say sorry.
HELEN: You donāt need to do that.
ELSA: Please! It will help. Sorry, Miss Helen. I also need to hear you say you forgive me.
HELEN: To tell you the truth, I was getting on my own nerves.
ELSA (Now smiling): Come on.
HELEN: Oh, all right. . . . But I promise you it isnāt necessary. Youāre forgiven.
ELSA (Leading Miss Helen over to a chair): Now sit down and stop worrying about me. Weāre both going to close our eyes, take a deep breath and start again. Ready?
HELEN: Ready.
ELSA: One, two, three . . .
Closed eyes and deep breaths.
And now?
HELEN(With the sly, tongue-in-cheek humor we will come to recognize as characteristic of the relaxed woman): Well, if you really mean it, I think the best thing is for you to get back into your car, drive around the block and arrive again. And this time I want you, please, to hoot three times the way you usually do, so that I donāt think a ghost has walked in through the front door when you appear.
ELSA (Calling Miss Helenās bluff): Right. Where are the car keys? (Finds them and heads for the front door)
HELEN: Where are you going?
ELSA: To do what you said. Drive around the block and arrive again.
HELEN: Like that?
ELSA: Why, whatās wrong?
HELEN: Elsie! Sterling Retief will have a heart attack if he sees you like that.
ELSA: But I wear less than this when I go to the beach. Oh, all right then, you old spoilsport, letās pretend.
Elsa runs into the other room, revs up her motorcar, grinds through all its gears and āarrives.ā Three blasts on the horn. The two women play the āarrival gameā (specifics to be determined in rehearsal). At the end of it they come together in a good laugh.
If my friends in Cape Town were to have seen that! You must understand, Miss Helen, Elsa Barlow is known as a āserious young woman.ā Bit of a bluestocking, in fact. Not much fun there! I donāt know how you did it, Helen, but you caught me with those stockings down from the first day we met. You have the rare distinction of being the only person who can make me make a fool of myself . . . and enjoy it.
HELEN: You werenāt making a fool of yourself. And anyway what about me? Nearly seventy and behaving as if I were seven!
ELSA: Letās face it, weāve both still got a little girl hidden away in us somewhere.
HELEN: And they like to play together.
ELSA: Mine hasnāt done that for a long time.
HELEN: And I didnāt even know that mine was still alive.
ELSA: That she most certainly is. Sheās the one who comes running out to play first. Feeling better? HELEN: Much better.
For the moment all tensions are gone. Elsa cleans herself as thoroughly as a basin of ...