Children of Fate (Hechos Consumados)

Juan Radrigán, Robert Shaw

• Editorial: Oberon Books
• Año: 2013
• ISBN:
  9781783195725
• Edición: 1
• Categoría: Letteratura
• Categoría: Teatro britannico

Children of Fate was written in 1981 and is a fascinating, passionate and humorous testament to the forgotten lives of the dispossessed and marginalised in General Pinochet's Chile. 2013 is the fortieth anniversary of the year Pinochet seized power in a vicious coup.

Characters

MARTA

EMILIO

AURELIO

MIGUEL

‘Anyone who wants to live has got to change the world.’

Wasteland on the edge of the city. Rocks, scrub, refuse etc. Stage left we make out the shape of a person (MARTA) asleep, covered with an old overcoat. Beside her, seated on a rock, a man is heating water on a small fire. Nearby, from a washing line improvised between two sticks, hang a blouse, a skirt, a jumper and a pair of stockings: two sacks can also be seen, one for flour, one for potatoes, both of them are half-full. It’s a cold, grey evening.

The woman tosses and turns uneasily, she mumbles in her sleep: the man gets up and bends over her, intensely concerned. He listens for a moment. Suddenly he stiffens, as if he had heard or noticed something around him. He jumps up startled and goes to investigate. He takes a few steps, trying to get a better view.

The woman wakes with a start. She stares at him uncomprehending. She searches for something with her eyes.

MARTA: Wh…where’s Mario?

EMILIO: (Not looking at her.) Oh hello there, lucky you woke up, I was starting to get worried about you.

MARTA: What happened?

EMILIO: I thought I heard someone moving around, (He has another look.) but I can’t see anyone.

MARTA: No, I mean what happened. Where’s Mario?

EMILIO: What Mario? There was only you. (Sits back down.)

MARTA: (After a pause.) Yeah. (She smiles in apology.) I was dreaming. (Pause.) What about you?

EMILIO: No, I’m not dreaming.

MARTA: I mean who are you, where did you spring from?

EMILIO: (Waves his hand vaguely.) Over there

MARTA: (Looking round.) Over where?

EMILIO: (Flatly.) I dunno.

MARTA: What do you mean you don’t know?

EMILIO: I dunno. There’s no signposts round here.

MARTA: What’s the time?

EMILIO: Evening. Dunno what day it is.

MARTA: Jesus, how come you don’t even know that?

EMILIO: Dunno, is all.

MARTA: You angry?

EMILIO: No. (He stirs the fire.) I just don’t like talking.

MARTA: Why not? What else is there to do? (She points excitedly out in front of them.) Hey, look, look at them lot? Who are they? Where are they going? (EMILIO looks without replying.) You with them?

EMILIO: (Smiling.) How can I be with them if I’m sat here?

MARTA: No, mate: I mean are you with them, but did you sit down here for a cup of tea.

EMILIO: No, I haven’t got a clue who they or where they’re going.

MARTA: I don’t like it. I’m frightened… Something must’ve happened.

EMILIO: You dunno what’s been happening?

MARTA: What’ve I just said?

EMILIO: I can’t hear what they’re saying, (Looking.) but they don’t look frightened to me.

MARTA: Don’t look too happy, neither.

EMILIO: Don’t expect too much, girl. If we all went around looking happy all the time, we’d get locked up. (Gets out his cigarettes.) Smoke?

MARTA: No, only sometimes. (Putting on the overcoat.) Fuck me, it’s cold.

EMILIO: (Lights the cigarette from the fire.) It’s freezing…

MARTA: You live round here?

EMILIO: No.

MARTA: Do they have to put something on your face to stop it hurting?

EMILIO: My face?

MARTA: Well yeah, I mean your jaw must be aching the whole time, you talk so much.

EMILIO: (Laughs.) What do you want me to say?

MARTA: I want to know what I’m doing here.

EMILIO: You’re sitting here asking stupid questions.

MARTA: But how come I’m here? I don’t remember anything.

EMILIO: You were drowning, I pulled you out of the canal, you’ve been asleep ever since. (Pause.) Did you jump or did you fall? (MARTA doesn’t answer. She shrugs her shoulders.) Ah, so you jumped. (He pours water from the can into a mug and hands it to her.) Go on, it’s good and hot.

MARTA: (Blows on it. Takes a few sips in silence. To herself.) Yeah, I guess I’ve lost track because of all the trouble last night… It’s evening, you say?

EMILIO: (Waving his hand.) Make up your own mind.

MARTA: So how long have I been asleep?

EMILIO: I found you ’bout one in the morning and you’ve only just woken up so work it out for yourself.

MARTA: And you’ve been looking after me all that time?

EMILIO: (Getting up.) What else was I going to do? Lucky it didn’t rain, it was well rough last night.

MARTA: (Looking round.) But it’s nice now, isn’t it?

EMILIO: Nice? Can’t you see what a shit day it is? It’s raining right now. Water must’ve got right onto your brain.

MARTA: I’m not listening. You got an attitude problem, you have. (Looking round.) It’s nice.

EMILIO: (Abruptly.) What did you see? What could you see?

MARTA: (Surprised, suspicious.) When?

EMILIO: Before I pulled you out.

MARTA: (Feeling trapped.) Nothing.

EMILIO: What do you mean nothing? You were practically gone. Try and remember. Did you feel afraid?

MARTA: No.

EMILIO: Peaceful?

MARTA: No.

EMILIO: Happy? Was it like you were gonna have a rest?

MARTA: No, no I didn’t feel anything.

EMILIO: (Getting worked up.) You must’ve felt something. You must’ve seen something.

MARTA: Go and ask them if you’re so interested.

EMILIO: (Taken aback.) Who?

MARTA: (In surprise.) Why are you asking me?

EMILIO: Because you got a peep at somewhere we’re all gonna have to go. Who do you want me ask?

MARTA: (Evasive.) No, nothing.

EMILIO: It’s like we’re talking about different things.

MARTA: (With spirit.) No, it’s the same thing; we’re talking about the same thing. It’s just I didn’t see anything. It’s the truth, I didn’t see or feel anything. You think I was taking notes under water?

EMILIO: They say you can see it. First your whole life passes in front of your eyes and then you see something.

MARTA: (Regaining control.) I’ve told you already. If you’re so interested, why don’t you jump in yourself.

EMILIO: (Going to rekindle the fire.) Maybe I will… But it’s weird though, when there’s nothing to live for, there’s nothi...