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The Road to Mecca
Athol Fugard
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eBook - ePub
The Road to Mecca
Athol Fugard
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A South African pastor and a young teacher from Cape Town battle over the fate of an eccentric elderly widow.
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African DramaACT
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 wallsâmirrors on all of themâare 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 lampsâagain, a multitude of them of every size, shape and colorâare 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 havenât had any frost yet.
ELSA: Iâm too exhausted to put it away. (Collapses on the bed) Whew! Thank God thatâs 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 Iâve opened that box of scented soaps you brought me last time.
ELSA: What? Oh, those. Havenât 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 donât think you could . . .?
ELSA: Stay longer?
HELEN: Even just two nights?
ELSA: Impossible. Weâre right in the middle of exams. Iâve 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. Iâve even brought a pile of them with me just in case I get a chance up here. (Starts to undressâ track-suit top, sneakers and socks)
HELEN: Put anything you want washed on one side and Iâll get a message to Katrina first thing in the morning.
ELSA: Donât bother her with that. I can do it myself.
HELEN: You canât leave without seeing Katrina! Sheâll never forgive me if I donât let her know youâre here. Please . . . even if itâs only for a few minutes.
ELSA: I wonât leave without seeing Katrina, Miss Helen! But I donât need her to wash a pair of pants and a bra for me. I do my own washing.
HELEN: Iâm sorry . . . I just thought you might. . . . Thereâs 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: Itâs just that if Iâd known you were coming, I would have had everything ready for you.
ELSA: Everything is fine just the way it is.
HELEN: No, it isnât! I donât even know that Iâve 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, Iâll get old Retief to open his shop for us. In any case, Iâm not hungry. All I need at this moment is a good wash and a chance to unwind so that I can forget Iâve been sitting in a motorcar for twelve hours.
HELEN: Be patient with me, Elsie. Remember the little saying: âPatience is a virtue, virtue is a grace, and ââ
ELSA (Unexpectedly sharp): For Godâs sake, Helen! Just leave me alone for a few minutes!
Pause.
HELEN (Timidly): Iâll 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.
Iâve 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 Helenâs shoulders.
My turn to say sorry.
HELEN: You donât 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 isnât necessary. Youâre forgiven.
ELSA (Leading Miss Helen over to a chair): Now sit down and stop worrying about me. Weâre 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 donât think a ghost has walked in through the front door when you appear.
ELSA (Calling Miss Helenâs 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, whatâs 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, letâs pretend.
Elsa runs into the other room, revs up her motorcar, grinds through all its gears and âarrives.â Three blasts on the horn. The two women play the âarrival gameâ (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 âserious young woman.â Bit of a bluestocking, in fact. Not much fun there! I donât 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 werenât making a fool of yourself. And anyway what about me? Nearly seventy and behaving as if I were seven!
ELSA: Letâs face it, weâve both still got a little girl hidden away in us somewhere.
HELEN: And they like to play together.
ELSA: Mine hasnât done that for a long time.
HELEN: And I didnât even know that mine was still alive.
ELSA: That she most certainly is. Sheâs 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 ...