Three Plays: The Young Lady from Tacna, Kathie and the Hippopotamus, La Chunga

INTRODUCTION

The plot of this play can be summed up in a few sentences.

The action takes place in Piura, a city surrounded by desert in the north of Peru. In the district of the sports stadium, there is a small bar frequented by a poor and dubious clientele and run by a woman known as La Chunga. One night, Josefino, one of the regulars, comes in with his latest conquest, Meche, a slim and very attractive young woman. La Chunga is instantly captivated. Josefino, in order to amuse himself and his friends — a group of layabouts who call themselves the superstuds — goads Meche into provoking La Chunga. In the course of the night josefino loses all his money playing dice. So that he can carry on playing, he hires out Meche to La Chunga, and the two women spend the rest of the night together in La Chunga’s little room, next to the bar. After that night, Meche disappeared and has never been heard of since. What has happened between them?

The play begins some time after this event. At that same table in the bar, the superstuds, who still play dice, try in vain to find out the truth from La Chunga. They don’t succeed. So they invent it. The scenes which they each dream up are brought to life on stage and maybe there is some element of fleeting truth in them. But they are, above all, secret, private truths which lie hidden in each one of them. In La Chunga’s house, truth and falsehood, past and present, co-exist, as in the human soul.

The various themes the play develops or touches upon shouldn’t give rise to confusion: they are love, desire, taboos, the relationship between men and women, the habits and customs of a certain milieu, the status of women in a primitive, male-dominated society, and the way in which these objective factors are reflected in the sphere of fantasy. It is clear in the play, I think, that objective reality does not condition or subdue man’s desires — on the contrary, thanks to his imagination and his ambitions, even the most unsophisticated of human beings can momentarily at least break out of the prison in which he is trapped.

As in my two earlier plays, The Young Lady from Tacna and Kathie and the Hippopotamus, I have tried in La Chunga to convey through dramatic fiction the totality of human experience: actions and dreams, deeds and fantasies. The characters in the play all have two sides to them: they are both themselves and their phantom selves — creatures of flesh and blood whose destinies are conditioned by the limitations of their lives, such as poverty, marginality, ignorance, etc. — and spiritual beings who, despite the crudity and monotony of their existence, always have access to relative freedom, through recourse to fantasy — the human attribute par excellence.

I use the expression ‘totality of human experience’ to emphasize the obvious fact that a man’s actions are quite inseparable from his desires and ambitions; also because the indivisibility of these two aspects of human experience should be apparent in performance, where the audience should be confronted with an integrated world in which what the characters say and what is going on in their imaginations — what actually happens and what is imagined to happen — are one continuous stream, rather like a reversible garment that can be worn either way round, so that it is impossible to tell which way round is which.

I do not see why theatre should not be a suitable medium for showing this synthesis of objective and subjective human experience, or rather, such experience in the process of synthesis. Through stubborn prejudice, however, people are inclined to think that the ambiguous, evanescent world of subtle shades and sudden arbitrary shifts, unrelated to time — the work of the imagination spurred on by desire, cannot co-exist on stage with objective reality, without creating insurmountable difficulties for the director. I do not believe there is any explanation for this scepticism other than idleness, and a fear of taking risks, without which all creative enterprise is hampered.

It is simply a question of finding a form of theatre that capitalizes on what is unique to the theatre, man’s talent for pretending, for play-acting, for putting himself into situations and projecting himself into characters different from his own. In the scenes in which they act out their fantasies, the characters should be indulgent to themselves, love themselves, as they play these extensions of their own personalities, dividing themselves, as actors do when they go on stage, or as men and women do mentally when they call on their imaginations to enrich their lives, illusorily acting out those roles which are either denied them in real life, or which they seldom have a chance to play.

Finding a technique for theatrical expression — a means of realizing this practice so universally shared, that of enriching life through the creation of images and the telling of stories — ought to be a stimulating challenge for those who want a new kind of theatre or who want to explore new avenues, rather than painfully pursuing those three archetypes of modern theatre which are already starting to show signs of ossification from over-use: the epic didacticism of Brecht; the pure entertainment value of the theatre of the absurd; and the affected spontaneity of the happening and other variations on the improvised show. The theatre and the images it can create are, I’m sure, an ideal medium for the expression of that tangled and disturbing world of angels, demons and wonders which lie at the heart of our desires.

Mario Vargas Llosa

CHARACTERS

LA CHUNGA

MECHE

The superstuds

EL MONO

JOSE

JOSEFINO

LITUMA

LA CHUNGA’S HOUSE

Piura, 1945.

La Chunga’s restaurant-bar is near the stadium, in a district of reed matting and wooden planks which grew up not long ago in the sandy area, between the main road to Sullana and the Grau Barracks. Unlike the flimsy dwellings of the neighbourhood, it is a proper building — with adobe walls and zinc roof — spacious and square. On the ground floor there are rustic tables, benches and seats where customers sit, and a wooden counter. Behind this, there is a kitchen, blackened and smoky. On a higher level, which is reached by a small staircase, there is a room, which no customer has ever visited. It is the proprietress’s bedroom. From there, La Chunga can observe all that goes on below through a window hidden behind a flower-patterned curtain.

The customers of the little bar are local people, soldiers from the Grau Barracks on leave, football fans and boxing enthusiasts, stopping for a drink on their way to the stadium, or workers from the building site in that new area for the rich which is making Piura into an expanding city: it is called Buenos Aires.

La Chunga has a cook who sleeps in front of the stove, and a boy who comes in during the day to serve at the tables. But she is always at the bar — usually standing. When there are not many customers, as tonight, when the only people in the place are those four layabouts who call themselves the superstuds (they have been playing dice and drinking beer for some time) La Chunga can be seen rocking slowly back and forth in a rocking chair made of reeds, which creaks monotonously, as she gazes into space. Is she lost in her memories or is her mind a blank — is she simply existing?

She is a tall, ageless woman, with a hard expression, smooth taut skin, strong bones and emphatic gestures. She observes her customers with an unblinking gaze. She has a mop of black hair, tied back with a band, a cold mouth and thin lips — she does not speak much and she rarely smiles. She wears short-sleeved blouses and skirts so unseductive, so unprovocative, that they seem like the uniform of a school run by nuns. Sometimes she goes barefoot, sometimes she wears heel-less sandals. She is an efficient woman: and runs the place with an iron hand and knows how to command respect. Her physical appearance, her air of severity, her terseness, are intimidating; it’s not often that drunks try to take liberties with her. She does not listen to confidences nor does she accept compliments; she has never been known to have a boyfriend, a lover, or even friends. She seems resolved always to live alone, dedicated body and soul to her business. Except for that very brief episode with Meche — which was quite baffling for the customers — no one has ever known her altering her routine for anyone or anything. For as long as the local Piuranos can remember, she has only ever been seen behind the bar — where she stands motionless and unsmiling. Does she perhaps occasionally go to the Variedades or the Municipal to see a film? Does she take a walk through the Plaza de Armas in the afternoon when there’s a concert? Does she go to the Eguiguren Pier or the Old Bridge to bathe in the river at the beginning of each summer if it has rained in the Cordillera? Does she watch the military procession on Independence Day, among the crowd congregated at the foot of the Grau Monument?

She is not an easy woman to engage in conversation; she replies in monosyllables or by nodding or shaking her head and if she is asked a facetious question she’ll reply with a coarse remark or a monstrous lie. ‘La Chunguita’, say the Piuranos, ‘does not stand any nonsense.’

The superstuds, who are always playing dice, drinking toasts to each other and joking, know this very well. Their table is right underneath a kerosene lamp which hangs from a beam, around which insects flutter. They remember the time when the little bar belonged to a certain Doroteo, who was La Chunga’s first business associate and whom — according to local gossip — she pushed out by hitting him over the head with a bottle. But despite coming here twice or three times a week, not even the superstuds could call themselves friends of La Chunga. They are merely acquaintances, customers — nothing more. Who in Piura could boast they know her intimately? The fugitive Meche, perhaps? La Chunga has no friends. She is a shy and solitary soul, like one of those cacti in the desert of Piura.

Truth is rarely pure and never simple.

Oscar Wilde

This translation of La Chunga was first performed as a rehearsed reading on 29 April 1989 at the Gate Theatre, Notting Hill. The cast was as follows:

LA CHUNGA Valerie Sarruf MECHE Geraldine Fitzgerald EL MONO Tom Mannion JOSE John Skitt JOSEFINO Tom Knight LITUMA Alan Barker Director David Graham-Young

ACT ONE

A game of dice

EL MONO: (Holding the dice above his head) Come on, superstuds. Let’s sing the old song again, to bring me some luck.

JOSE, LITUMA, JOSEFINO and EL MONO (Sing in chorus with great gusto)

We are the superstuds.

We don’t want to work.

All we want is a little bit of skirt.

Drinking, gambling all night long,

In Chunga’s bar where we belong.

Wine, women and song —

Wine, women and song.

In Chunga’s bar where we belong.

In Chunga’s bar where it’s cheap and nice,

And now we’re going to throw the dice!

(EL MONO blows on his fist and kisses it, then throws the dice on to the table. The little black and white cubes hurtle across the top of the table, bouncing up and down, colliding, ricocheting off the half-empty glasses and finally come to rest, their journey cut short by a bottle of Cristal beer.)

EL MONO: Ahaha! Two threes! That’ll do me nicely. Right, I’m doubling the bank.

(No one reacts or adds a single cent to the pool of banknotes and coins that EL MONO has beside his glass.) Well come on, you spineless lot of buggers. Is no one going to take me on?

(He picks up the dice, cradles them in his hands, blows on them and shakes them above his head.)

Now here goes for another six — a five and a one, a four and a two, a three and a three — or this little stud’s going to chop off his pecker.

JOSEFINO: (Offering him a knife) For all the use it is — here, borrow my knife. Go on, cut it off!

JOSE: Just toss the dice, will you, Mono. It’s about the one thing you’re good at — tossing.

EL MONO: (Pulling faces) And they’re off … Whoosh. A three and a six. (Crosses himself.) Holy Whore. Now for the six.

LITUMA: (Turning towards the bar) Don’t you think Mono’s become very vulgar lately, Chunga?

(LA CHUNGA remains unperturbed. She does not even deign to glance at the superstuds’ table.)

JOSE: Why don’t you answer poor Lituma, Chunguita? He’s asking you a question, isn’t he?

EL MONO: She’s probably dead. That thing rocking backwards and forwards over there is most likely her corpse. Hey, Chunga, are you dead?

LA CHUNGA: You’d like that, wouldn’t you? So you could scarper without paying me for the beers.

EL MONO: Ahaha. I’ve brought you back to life again, Chunga, Chunguita. (Blows on the dice, kisses them, and throws them.) Holy Whore. Now for the six.

(All four of them watch, their eyes glued to the little black and white cubes as they go on their bumpy journey among glasses, bottles, cigarettes and matchboxes. This time they roll off the table on to the wet earthen floor.)

One and three is four, superstuds. I just needed another two. The bank is still up — if anyone’s got the balls to bet.

LITUMA: Hey, what happened that time with Meche, Chunga? Go on. Make the most of it while it’s just us today. Tell us.

JOSE: Yes, go on, tell us, Chunguita.

LA CHUNGA: (Detached as always, in a drowsy voice) Go and ask your bloody mother. She’ll tell you.

(EL MONO throws the dice.)

EL MONO: And it’s a six! Right, you bastards, I’m pissing on you all from a very great height. Now open your mouths and start swallowing, hahaha! (Turns towards the bar.) It must be your sweet temper, bringing me luck, Chunguita. (Lifts up the kitty and kisses the banknotes and coins in an extravagant manner.) Another couple of beers, nice and cold mind — because this time, they’re on me! Hahaha!

(LA CHUNGA gets up. The chair carries on rocking, creaking at regular intervals, as she, the owner of the bar, goes to fetch a couple of bottles of beer from a bucket full of ice, which she keeps beneath the bar. Listlessly, she carries them to the superstuds’ table and places them in front of EL MONO. The table is bristling with bottles. LA CHUNGA returns to the rocking chair.)

JOSE: (Provocatively, in a shrill voice) Are you never going to tell us what you did that night with Meche, Chunga?

JOSEFINO: Do you want to be raped? Well, shut up about Mechita, d’you hear, or I’ll have the pants off one of you in next to no time. Just mention her name and I start to get a hard-on.

EL MONO: (Winking, he talks in a falsetto voice) You too, Chunguita?

LA CHUNGA: That’ll do, you bastard. I’m here to serve beer, not to be made a fool of — not by anyone. Why should I listen to your smut? Just watch it, Mono.

(EL MONO starts to tremble; his teeth start to chatter, he shows the whites of his eyes, he moves his shoulders and hands, as if in the throes of some hysterical convulsion.)

EL MONO: Oh, I’m scared. I’m scared.

(Helpless with laughter, the superstuds slap him to bring him to his senses.)

LITUMA: Take it easy, Chunga. We may make you mad at times, but we love you really. You know that.

JOSEFINO: Whose bloody stupid idea was it to talk about Meche? It was you, wasn’t it, Lituma? Shit, you’ve made me all nostalgic. (Raises his glass, solemnly.) Let’s drink to the tastiest little wench that ever set foot this side of the Andes. To you, Mechita, in heaven, in Lima, in hell, or wherever the fuck you are.

Meche

As JOSEFINO proposes the toast and the superstuds drink, MECHE enters. She moves slowly and rhythmically which suggests someone entering the real world from the world of the memory. She is young and neat and has a firm, full figure — very feminine. She wears a light, close-fitting dress, and shoes with stiletto heels. She cuts quite a dash, as she walks. LA CHUNGA’s eyes widen and light up, as she watches her approach, but the superstuds remain unaware of her presence. By comparison, LA CHUNGA’s attention is focused on her so intensely that it is almost as if the present were losing all concrete reality for her, as if it were becoming blurred, fading away, to the point of extinction. Even the voices of the superstuds become thinner and fainter.

EL MONO: I’ll never forget the look on your face that time Meche came in here, Chunguita. Quite stunned, you were.

LITUMA: You’re the only one who knows where she is, Chunga. Come on, do us a favour. What’s it to you? Put us out of our misery.

JOSE: No. Why don’t you tell us what happened that night between the pair of you, Chunguita? Shit, I can’t bloody sleep at night for thinking about it.

EL MONO: I’ll tell you what happened.

(Sings, pulling his usual funny faces:)

Chunga with Meche

Meche with Chunga

Cheche with Menga

Menga with Cheche

Chu Chu Chu

And long live Fumanchu!

LA CHUNGA: (In a faint and distant voice; mesmerized by MECHE, who is now beside her) Hurry up and empty those glasses now, I’m closing.

(Imperceptibly, JOSEFINO gets up, and, moving out of the present into the past, out of reality into the world of the imagination, he goes and positions himself next to MECHE, taking hold of her arm in a proprietorial fashion.)

JOSEFINO: Good evening, Chunguita. May I introduce Meche? MECHE: (Stretching out her hand to LA CHUNGA) Pleased to meet you, señora.

(The superstuds, still engrossed in their game of dice, acknowledge JOSEFINO and MECHE with a wave of the hand.)

(LA CHUNGA holds MECHE’s hand and devours her with her eyes; it is clear from her voice she has been moved by the experience.)

LA CHUNGA: So you’re the famous Meche. Welcome. I didn’t think he was ever going to bring you. I’ve been so much wanting to meet you.

MECHE: So have I, señora. Josefino talks a lot about you. (With a gesture towards the table) They all do, the whole time. About you and this place. I was dying to come. (Indicating JOSEFINO) But he wouldn’t bring me.

(LA CHUNGA resigns herself to releasing MECHE’s hand; she attempts to regain her composure and appear natural.)

LA CHUNGA: I can’t think why. I haven’t eaten anyone yet to my knowledge. (To JOSEFINO) Why wouldn’t you bring her?

JOSEFINO: (Joking obscenely) I was afraid you might take her away from me, Chunguita. (Putting his arm round MECHE’ s waist and flaunting her conceitedly) She’s worth her weight in gold, wouldn’t you say?

LA CHUNGA: (Admiring her and nodding) Yes. This time I must congratulate you, Don Juan. Even though you are from the Gallinacera. She’s worth more than all those other women of yours put together.

MECHE: (Rather embarrassed) Thank you, señora.

LA CHUNGA: Don’t be so formal. Just call me Chunga.

LITUMA: (Calling from the table) We’re starting another game, Josefino. Are you coming?

JOSE: You may as well, Josefino. It’s Mono’s turn with the dice. You can guarantee it’ll be a walkover with this poor cretin.

EL MONO: Me a cretin? Holy Whore, I’ll be buggered if I don’t fleece the lot of you before the night’s out. You’ll have to leave me Mechita, as a pledge, against all that money you’re going to lose, Josefino.

JOSEFINO: (To LA CHUNGA) How much do you think I could get for this little doll, Chunguita?

LA CHUNGA: As much as you want. It’s true. She is worth her weight in gold. (To MECHE) What are you drinking? It’s on the house. Would you like a beer? A vermouth?

JOSEFINO: I don’t believe it … Did you hear that, studs? Chunga’s paying.

LA CHUNGA: Not for you, I’m not. You’re a regular. I’m inviting Meche, since it’s her first time here. So that she’ll come back.

(There is a great uproar from the superstuds’ table.)

EL MONO: (Shouting) Hahaha. Am I hearing right?

JOSE: Ask her for a whisky, and share it out, Mechita.

JOSEFINO: (Moving towards the table to take his place again among the superstuds) Right. I’ll try my hand again.

MECHE: Weren’t you going to take me to the pictures?

JOSEFINO: Later. First I’m going to make myself a few bucks by fleecing these three morons. The night’s still young, pussycat.

MECHE: (To LA CHUNGA, indicating JOSEFINO) We’re not going to get to the pictures tonight, I can see that. There’s one on at the Variedades with Esther Williams and Ricardo Montalbán and it’s in colour. With bullfighting and music. It’s a pity Josefino likes gambling so much.

LA CHUNGA: (Handing her the vermouth, which she has been preparing) That one’s into all the vices. He’s the most unscrupulous bastard out. Whatever did you see in him? What do women see in such a burn? Tell me, Meche. What is it about him?

MECHE: (Partly embarrassed, partly feigning embarrassment) Well, he’s got … he’s a real charmer. He knows how to say nice things to a girl. And besides, he’s good-looking, don’t you think? And also … Well, when he kisses me and touches me, I start to tremble all over. I see little stars.

LA CHUNGA: (With a mocking smile) Does he really make you see little stars?

MECHE: (Laughing) Well, it’s just a manner of speaking really. If you know what I mean.

LA CHUNGA: No. I don’t know what you mean. I can’t understand how a pretty girl like you can fall in love with a poor sod like that. (Very seriously) You know what’ll happen to you, if you stay with him, don’t you?

MECHE: I never think about the future, Chunga. You’ve got to take love as it comes. It’s living for the moment that counts. You’ve got to get as much as you can out of it while it lasts. (Becoming alarmed suddenly) What will happen to me if I stay with him?

LA CHUNGA: He’ll make you see little stars for a little while longer. And then, he’ll put you into the Casa Verde — so that you can keep him, in style, by whoring.

MECHE: (Scandalized) What are you saying? You’re joking, aren’t you? Do you think I could do such a thing? You obviously don’t know me. Do you really think I’m capable of …

LA CHUNGA: Of course I do. Like all those other silly girls who saw little stars, whenever that pimp so much as looked at them. (Stretches out her hand and strokes MECHE’s cheek.) Don’t look so frightened. I like you better when you smile.

The Gallinacera versus the Mangachería

At the superstuds’ table, the game starts to heat up. The atmosphere is becoming electric.

EL MONO: (Highly excited) Three and four, seven, hahaha. So I was a cretin, was I, José? Down, on your knees and start praying, you pathetic creep. Have you ever seen anything like that in all your born days? Seven games on the trot without a single miss. The money’s still all there, for the real men. Anyone take me on?

JOSEFINO: (Taking out a few banknotes) I will. You think you frighten me? Let’s see, how much is there? Two hundred, three hundred. Here’s three hundred. Come on, throw the dice, you peasant.

JOSE: That’s a lot of money, Josefino. (Lowering his voice) You haven’t by any chance been putting Mechita out to work already, have you?

JOSEFINO: Shut it, if she hears you she’ll start getting all suspicious. Well, what are you waiting for, Mono? (EL MONO passes the dice across his eyes, then across his lips, cradles them in his hands, as if casting a spell on them.)

EL MONO: Just making you squirm a bit, slum boy. And now here we go for real …

(They all watch the dice ecstatically.)

Eleven. There you are. This time I’ve really rammed it right down your throats. Eight on the trot. Let’s drink to that, for Christ’s sake. More beers, Chunga. We’ve got a minor miracle here to celebrate.

(JOSEFINO checks EL MONO, as he is about to collect the money he’s won.)

JOSEFINO: The money stays on the table. (The three superstuds look at him in amazement.)

EL MONO: If you want to carry on losing? Be my guest, mate. Go on, make yourself rich then, if you can. The money’s there. All six hundred sols of it. Anyone else betting?

JOSEFINO: No just me.

(He takes more money out of his pocket, counts it ostentatiously, places it slowly and theatrically in the kitty.)

There you are. Six hundred. The Gallinacera versus the Mangacheria.

LITUMA: Holy shit, he must have robbed a bank or something.

JOSEFINO: We leave that sort of thing to street arabs like you; we may be scavengers, in the Gallinacera, but we’re not thieves.

JOSE: Don’t kid yourself, Josefino. It’s the worst district in Piura.

LITUMA: What with the slaughterhouse and the carcasses all over the road, and the flies and the vultures — I wouldn’t brag about it too much, if I were you.

JOSEFINO: At least we’ve got tarmac streets and toilets. You lot haven’t even got that. Nothing but donkeys and beggars. Everyone shits on the floor beside the bed. I don’t know why I have anything to do with people like you. Any day now I’ll even start to smell like you into the bargain. Hold it, Mono, don’t throw those dice yet. Mechita, here, come and bring me some luck.

(MECHE approaches the table, at the same time as LA CHUNGA, who is carrying two more beers; JOSEFINO puts his arm round MECHE’s waist and kisses her salaciously and ostentatiously on the mouth, forcing her to lower her face. The superstuds laugh, drink and applaud. LA CHUNGA looks on, her eyes shining.)

Right, Mono. Now throw those dice.

JOSE: (To JOSEFINO) You know what they say, don’t you? Lucky in love, unlucky at cards.

EL MONO: (Throwing the dice) There they go, and this little superstud’s a rich man.

JOSEFINO: (Happy, exuberant) Two ones. Start to dig your grave, Mono. (To JOSE) You’ve got the wrong saying, mate. It’s ‘Lucky in love, luckier at cards’. Here’s to Mechita for bringing me such good fortune. Thank you, my little one.

(He forces her to lower her head again and kisses her. In doing so, he looks askance at LA CHUNGA as if making fun of her.) Cheers, Chunguita.

(LA CHUNGA doesn’t answer him. She goes back to the bar.)

EL MONO: (Stretching out his hand to JOSEFINO) I must congratulate you. It takes guts to bet the whole bank after eight straight runs. You may be from the Gallinacera, but you certainly deserve to be a superstud.

JOSE: (Mischievously) Did you see Chunga’s face when Josefino was kissing you, Mechita? Her eyes were popping out of her head.

LITUMA: She was dying of envy.

JOSEFINO: (Raising his voice) Do you hear what these buggers are saying about you, Chunga?

LA CHUNGA: What?

JOSEFINO: That when I was kissing Meche, your eyes were popping out of your head. That you were dying of envy.

LA CHUNGA: They’re probably right. Who wouldn’t feel envious of a woman like that?

(Laughter and shouting from the superstuds.)

JOSEFINO: And you haven’t even seen her in the buff, Chunguita. Her body’s even better than her face. Isn’t that right, Meche?

MECHE: Be quiet, Josefino.

LA CHUNGA: I’ve no doubt for once in your life you’re telling the truth.

JOSEFINO: Of course I am. Lift up your skirt, love. Show her your legs, just to give her an idea.

MECHE: (Pretending to be more embarrassed than she is) Oh, Josefino, the things you say.

(JOSEFINO speaks with an assurance that shouldn’t be brusque, but which barely conceals his superiority. He relishes his authority in front of his friends.)

JOSEFINO: (Raising his voice a little) Listen to me. If you and I aren’t going to fall out with each other, you’d better do what I say. Show her your legs.

MECHE: (Pretending to protest, though in fact enjoying the game) You’re so moody and bossy at times, Josefino.

(She lifts up her skirt and shows her legs. The superstuds cheer.)

JOSEFINO: (Laughing) What do you think of them, Chunga?

LA CHUNGA: Not bad.

JOSEFINO: (Bristling with arrogance) You see. I could make her strip stark naked in front of you and nothing would happen — because you’re my mates. We trust each other, eh Chunga?

(He begins to gather up the money he’s just won from the pool.)

EL MONO: Hold it. Only cowards draw their money out while there are people still keen to play.

JOSEFINO: You want to go for the bank? It’s one thousand, two hundred sols, Mono. Have you got it?

(EL MONO searches his pockets, takes out all the money he has and counts it.)

EL MONO: I’ve got five hundred. I’ll owe you the seven hundred.

JOSEFINO: You can’t borrow money in the middle of a game, it’s bad luck. (Gripping him by the wrist) Wait. That’s what your watch is for. I’ll take it instead of the seven hundred.

LITUMA: Your watch is worth more than that.

EL MONO: (Taking off his watch, and putting it with his five hundred sols in the pool) But I’m going to win, aren’t I, for God’s sake? All right, Josefino, throw those dice and please … lose.

(JOSEFINO pushes MECHE towards the bar.)

JOSEFINO: Go and keep Chunga company. I’m going to win that money and the watch, you’ll see. With the dice in my hand, I don’t need you to bring me luck, I make my own luck.

JOSE: Be careful Chunga doesn’t try to seduce you, Mechita. You’ve almost driven her crazy.

MECHE: (Revealing a somewhat morbid curiosity, in a whisper) Is she one of those?

LITUMA: We didn’t know she was till now. We thought she was probably sexless.

JOSE: But ever since she saw you, she’s completely lost her cool. She’s given herself away: she’s a dike.

MECHE: Is she really?

JOSEFINO: Ears burning, are they, Chunga? If you knew what they were saying about you, you’d brain the lot of them — you’d never let them set foot in here again.

LA CHUNGA: What are they saying?

JOSEFINO: José says you’ve gone all crazy since you saw Mechita, he says that you’ve given yourself away, that you’re a dike and Meche wants to know if it’s true or not.

MECHE: It’s a lie, Chunga, don’t believe him. You are a bastard, Josefino.

LA CHUNGA: Let her come and ask me. I’ll tell her in private. (The superstuds laugh and joke.)

JOSEFINO: (To MECHE) Go on, my little one. Flirt with her a little, give her a thrill.

EL MONO: Are you going to throw those dice, Josefino?

(MECHE goes towards the bar where LA CHUNGA is standing.)

Women and Dikes

MECHE: (Confused) Surely you didn’t believe him, did you? You know Josefino’s always joking. I didn’t say that about you. Really.

LA CHUNGA: Oh, don’t worry. I don’t give a damn what people say about me. They can say what they like. (Shrugs her shoulders). If that’s what amuses them, then let them. Just so long as I don’t hear.

MECHE: Don’t you care if they say nasty things about you?

LA CHUNGA: The only thing I care about is that they don’t fight and they pay for what they drink. Provided they behave and don’t try and cheat me, they can say what they damned well like.

MECHE: Don’t you even care if they say you’re … that?

LA CHUNGA: A dike? (Takes hold of MECHE’s arm.) And what if I were? Am I frightening you?

MECHE: (With a nervous little laugh; we are not sure whether she means what she says or not.) I don’t know. I’ve never met a real dike before. I know there are supposed to be so many about, but I’ve never seen a single one. (Looks LA CHUNGA over.) I always imagined them to be butch and ugly. You’re not like that at all.

LA CHUNGA: What am I like?

MECHE: A little hard perhaps. But I imagine you have to be to run a place like this what with all the drunks and strange types that come in. But you’re not ugly. If you tidied yourself up a bit, you’d look quite attractive, beautiful even. Men would like you.

LA CHUNGA: (With a dry little laugh) I’m not interested if men like me or not. But you are, aren’t you? It’s the one thing in life that you care about, isn’t it? Tidying yourself up, putting on make-up, making yourself look pretty. Anything to excite them, to titillate them. Isn’t that it?

MECHE: Surely that’s just being a woman?

LA CHUNGA: No. That’s being an idiot.

MECHE: Then all women are idiots.

LA CHUNGA: Most of them are. That’s why they get what they deserve. They let themselves be abused, they become slaves. For what? To be thrown on the rubbish tip like cast-off rags when their men get tired of them.

(Pause. She strokes MECHE’s face again.)

I hate to think what might happen to you when Josefino gets tired of you.

MECHE: He’ll never get tired of me. I’ll always know how to keep him happy.

LA CHUNGA: Yes. I’ve noticed. By letting him twist you round his little finger. Aren’t you ashamed to let him boss you around like that?

MECHE: I enjoy doing whatever he asks me to do. For me, that’s love.

LA CHUNGA: So you’d do anything that poor sod asked you to do?

MECHE: For as long as I’m in love with him, yes. Anything. (Pause. LA CHUNGA watches her in silence. She reveals, in spite of herself, a certain admiration for her. They are both distracted by the row the superstuds are making.)

A pledge

EL MONO: (Euphorically, gathering fustfuls of banknotes in his hands) Jesus Christ. This is classic. Pinch me somebody, for heaven’s sake, so I know I’m not dreaming.

JOSE: (Giving JOSEFINO a slap on the back) The game hasn’t finished yet, Mono. Leave the money on the table.

EL MONO: What are you going to go on betting with? You’ve already lost two thousand sols, your watch and your pen. What more have you got, for Christ’s sake?

(Pause. JOSEFINO looks from one side to the other. He watches LA CHUNGA and MECHE for a moment. Then, resolutely, he gets to his feet.)

JOSEFINO: I have got something more.

(He strides firmly towards LA CHUNGA. He has the expression of a man prepared to go to any length to satisfy his whim.) I need three thousand sols to stay in the game, Chunguita.

LA CHUNGA: Over my dead body! You know perfectly well I never lend a cent to anyone.

JOSEFINO: I’ve got something worth more than those three thousand sols I’m asking you for.

(He grips MECHE round the waist.)

MECHE: (Taking it half as a joke, without knowing quite how to react) What are you saying?

(LA CHUNGA bursts out laughing. JOSEFINO remains very serious. The superstuds have gone quiet; they crane their necks forward, intrigued by what is happening.)

JOSEFINO: (Holding MECHE against him as if he owned her) You heard. You love me, don’t you? And I love you too. That’s why I’m asking this of you. Didn’t you swear you’d always do anything I wanted? Right then, now you’re going to prove it to me.

MECHE: (Open-mouthed and incredulous) But, but … have you gone mad? Do you know what you’re saying? Or have those beers gone to your head?

JOSEFINO: (To LA CHUNGA) You can’t fool me, Chunga. I know you’ve been drooling over Meche ever since you first set eyes on her. So what about it?

EL MONO: Holy shit. He means it. D’you realize, superstuds?

JOSE: Christ, he’s selling her to her. It’s as simple as that.

LITUMA: You might as well buy her yourself, Mono. Or isn’t Mechita worth those three thousand sols?

JOSEFINO: (Without taking his eyes off LA CHUNGA; still with his arm round MECHE) No. I wouldn’t lend her to Mono, not for all the tea in China. Nor to any other man, for that matter. (Kissing MECHE) It would make me jealous. I’d rip the guts out of anyone who so much as laid a finger on her. (To LA CHUNGA) But I’m not jealous of you. I’ll lend her to you all right, because I know that you’ll give her back to me — intact.

MECHE: (Snivelling, bewildered and exasperated) Let go of me. I want to get out of here. You miserable sod. You miserable sod.

JOSEFINO: (Letting go of her) You can go. But don’t ever come back. Because if you go now, Meche, you’d be betraying me. I’d never forgive you for letting me down when I most needed you.

MECHE: But, Josefino, do you realize what you’re asking me to do? What do you think I am?

LA CHUNGA: (To MECHE, sardonically) You see, so you wouldn’t just do anything that crook asked you, after all.

JOSEFINO: (Clutching MECHE) Did you really say that? Did you? Then it is true. (Kisses MECHE.) I love you, Meche. You and I will always be together, for as long as we both live. Don’t cry, silly. (To LA CHUNGA) Well, what about it then?

(LA CHUNGA has become very serious. Long pause.)

LA CHUNGA: Let her say it herself, in her own words, that she accepts. Let her say that from now until the first light of dawn she’ll do anything I want.

JOSEFINO: (To MECHE) Don’t let me down. I need you. She won’t do anything to you. She’s a woman. What can she do to you? Say it.

(Trance-like pause. The superstuds and LA CHUNGA watch MECHE’s inner conflict. She stretches out her arms and looks from one to the other.)

MECHE: (To LA CHUNGA, stammering) I’ll do anything you want until the first light of dawn.

(LA CHUNGA goes to fetch the money from under the bar. JOSEFINO whispers something into MECHE’s ear and caresses her. The superstuds start to recover from the shock. LA CHUNGA hands the money to JOSEFINO.)

EL MONO: Bloody hell, I really don’t believe this. I don’t believe my eyes.

LITUMA: I could even marry a woman like that.

JOSE: Shit. This calls for us to sing the old song again. For Mechita. She deserves it.

EL MONO: The song, superstuds — and a toast in honour of Mechita.

EL MONO, LITUMA and JOSE: (Singing)

We are the superstuds.

We don’t want to work.

All we want is a little bit of skirt.

Drinking, gambling all night long,

In Chunga’s bar where we belong.

Wine, women and song –

Wine, women and song.

In Chunga’s bar where we belong.

And now we’re going to drink a toast

To you, Mechita.

(They raise their beer glasses to MECHE and drink. LA CHUNGA takes MECHE by the hand and leads her towards her room. They both go up the small staircase. JOSEFINO, counting his money, returns to the gambling table.)

ACT TWO

The superstuds

As the curtain goes up, the actors are in exactly the same position as they were at the beginning of the first act. We are now in the present — a long time after the episode with MECHE. The superstuds are playing dice at the table, beneath a lamp which is hanging from a beam, while LA CHUNGA, in her rocking chair, passes the time by gazing into space. In the coolness of the night, the sounds of the city can be heard in the distance: crickets chirp, there is the occasional noise of a car, a dog barks, a donkey brays.

JOSE: I’m dying to know what Chunga did that night with Meche; how much do you think it would take to get her to tell me?

LITUMA: She’ll never tell you. Not even for a million sols. Forget it, José.

JOSEFINO: If I wanted her to, she would. For free.

EL MONO: We know what a naughty boy you are, Josefino, you great crook.

JOSEFINO: I’m not joking. (Takes out his knife and holds it so that it glints in the light of the lamp.) Chunga may be pretty tough, but there’s no man or woman alive who wouldn’t squeal like a parrot with this at his throat.

EL MONO: D’you hear that, Chunga?

LA CHUNGA: (With her usual detachment) Hurry up and finish those beers. I’m about to close.

JOSEFINO: Don’t be frightened, Chunguita. I’d make you tell me what happened that night if I felt like it. But I don’t feel like it. So you can stuff your little secret. I don’t want to know. I don’t give a damn about Meche. She could be dead for all I care. I’ve yet to meet the woman who’d make me run after her.

(JOSE has stood up. He moves slowly towards LA CHUNGA’s rocking chair, staring straight ahead of him, gaping slightly, as if walking in his sleep. The superstuds appear not to have noticed him. Throughout the following scene, they behave as if he were still sitting in the empty seat: they clink glasses with him, take his bets, pass him the dice, slap him on the back and joke with him.)

JOSE: (His voice is dry and feverish) Nobody knows about it, Chunga, but something in my life changed that night. (Hits himself on the head.) I can still see it all, as if it were happening now. Everything you said and everything Meche said — I remember it all so very clearly. When you took her by the arm and led her over there, to your room, my heart was beating so hard, I thought it would leap out of my chest. (Takes LA CHUNGA’s hand to his chest.) Here, feel it now. See how strongly it’s beating. As if it were bursting to get out. That’s what happens, whenever I think of the two of you up there.

(LA CHUNGA’s lips move as if she were saying something. JOSE leans over in an attempt to hear what it is, but regrets it immediately and draws back. For a few moments LA CHUNGA carries on mouthing the same words in silence. When she finally articulates, her voice is strangely subdued.)

LA CHUNGA: You’re a wanker, José.

JOSE: (Anxiously, impatiently, pointing towards the little room) Please, please, tell me, Chunguita. What happened? What was it like?

LA CHUNGA: (Lecturing him, but not severely — as if to a naughty child) It’s not real women you like, José. Not women of flesh and blood, at least. The ones you really like are the ones you keep up here, in your mind — (Touching his head as if caressing it) — but they’re only memories, fantasies, ghosts from the past that live in your imagination, they don’t really exist. Am I right, José?

JOSE: (Trying to make LA CHUNGA get up out of her rocking chair; getting more and more excited) You took her by the arm, and you started to lead her over there. Slowly you began to climb the staircase, and you never let go of her arm for a single moment. Did you squeeze it? Did you fondle it?

(LA CHUNGA gets up and JOSE takes her place in the rocking chair. He tilts it — so that he can see better. LA CHUNGA pours a glass of vermouth, goes up the staircase and into the little room which is now lit with a reddish light. MECHE is there.)

The voyeur’s dream

MECHE: (With a nervous little laugh) So now what happens? What’s the game, Chunga?

(The cold woman of the previous scenes suddenly seems charged with life and sensuality.)

LA CHUNGA: It’s not a game. I’ve paid three thousand sols for you. You’re mine for the rest of the night.

MECHE: (Defiantly) Do you mean I’m your slave?

LA CHUNGA: For a few hours, at least. (handling her the glass) Here. It’ll calm your nerves.

(MECHE grasps the glass and takes a gulp.)

MECHE: Do you think I’m nervous? Well, you’re wrong. I’m not afraid of you. I’m doing this for Josefino. If I wanted to, I could push you aside and run out that door.

(LA CHUNGA sits on the bed.)

LA CHUNGA: But you won’t. You said you’d obey me, and you’re a woman of your word, I’m sure. Besides, you’re just dying of curiosity, aren’t you?

MECHE: (Finishing the glass) Do you honestly think you’re going to get me drunk on two vermouths? Don’t kid yourself. I’ve got a strong head for drink. I can go on all night without getting in the least bit tipsy. I can hold even more than Josefino.

(Pause.)

LA CHUNGA: Do to me what you do to him when you want to excite him.

MECHE: (With the same nervous little laugh) I can’t. You’re a woman. You’re Chunga.

LA CHUNGA: (Coaxing and at the same time peremptory) No. I am Josefino. Do to me what you do to him.

(Soft tropical music — boleros by Leo Marini or Los Panchos — can be heard in the distance. It conjures up images of couples dancing close, in a place full of smoke and alcohol. MECHE starts to undress, slowly, and rather awkwardly. Her voice seems forced, and unrelaxed.)

MECHE: You want to see me undress? Slowly, like this? This is how he likes it. Do you think I’m pretty? Do you like my legs? My breasts? I’ve got a nice firm body, look. No moles, no pimples, no flab. None of those things that make people so ugly.

(She has stripped down to her petticoat. She feels a little faint. She screws up her face.)

I can’t, Chunga. You’re not him. I can’t believe what I’m doing or what I’m saying. I feel stupid, all this seems so unreal to me, so ….

(She lets herself fall on the bed and stays there, face down, in a state of confusion; she is on the point of tears, but manages to restrain herself. LA CHUNGA gets up and sits beside her. She acts now with great sensitivity, as if moved by MECHE’s discomfort.)

LA CHUNGA: The truth is, I admire you for being here. You surprised me, you know? I didn’t think you would accept. (Smoothes MECHE’s hair.) Do you love Josefino that much?

MECHE: (Her voice a whisper) Yes, I love him. (Pause.) But I don’t think I did it just for him. But because of what you said too. I was curious. (Turns to look at LA CHUNGA.) You gave him three thousand sols. That’s a lot of money.

LA CHUNGA: (Passing her hand over MECHE’s face, drying nonexistent tears) You’re worth more than that.

(A hint of flirtatiousness becomes apparent through MECHE’s resentment and embarrassment.)

MECHE: Do you really like me, Chunga?

LA CHUNGA: You know very well I do. Or perhaps you didn’t realize?

MECHE: Yes, I did. No other woman has ever looked at me like you did. You made me feel … so strange.

(LA CHUNGA puts her hand round MECHE’s shoulders and draws her to her. Kisses her. MECHE passively allows herself to be kissed. When they separate MECHE gives a false little laugh.)

LA CHUNGA: You’re laughing — so it can’t have been that dreadful.

MECHE: How long have you been like this? I mean, have you always been …? Have you always liked women?

LA CHUNGA: I don’t like women. I like you.

(She embraces her and kisses her. MECHE lets herself be kissed, but does not respond to LA CHUNGA’s caresses. LA CHUNGA gently draws her face round and, still caressing her, orders her.) Open your mouth, slave.

(MECHE giggles nervously, and parts her lips. LA CHUNGA gives her a long kiss and this time MECHE raises her arm and puts it around LA CHUNGA’s neck.)

That’s it. I thought you didn’t know how to kiss. (Sarcastically) Did you see little stars?

MECHE: (Laughing) Don’t make fun of me.

LA CHUNGA: (Holding her in her arms) I’m not making fun of you. I want you to enjoy yourself tonight — more than you’ve ever enjoyed anything with that pimp.

MECHE: He’s not a pimp! Don’t say that word. He’s in love with me. We may be getting married.

LA CHUNGA: He’s a pimp. He sold you to me tonight. Next, he’ll be taking you to the Casa Verde, to whore for him like all his other women.

(MECHE tries to slip away from her arms, pretending to be more angry than she really feels, but after a short struggle, she relents. LA CHUNGA puts her face close to hers and talks to her, almost kissing her.)

Let’s not talk about that burn any more. Let’s just talk about you and me.

MECHE: (More calmly) Don’t hold me so tight, you’re hurting.

LA CHUNGA: I can do what I want with you. You’re my slave.

(MECHE laughs.)

Don’t laugh. Repeat: I am your slave.

(Pause.)

MECHE: (Laughs. Becoming serious) It’s only a game, isn’t it? All right. I am your slave.

LA CHUNGA: I’m your slave and now I want to be your whore. (Pause.) Repeat.

MECHE: (Almost in a whisper) I’m your slave and now I want to be your whore.

(LA CHUNGA lays MECHE on the bed and starts to undress her.)

LA CHUNGA: So you will be.

(The room becomes dark and disappears from view. From the rocking chair, JOSE keeps on gazing, mesmerized, into the darkness. At the table where the superstuds are playing dice, the noise starts up again: the noise of toasts being drunk, songs being sung and swearing.)

Speculations about Meche

The following dialogue takes place as the superstuds carry on playing dice and drinking beer.

LITUMA: Do you want to know something? I sometimes think all this about Mechita disappearing is just another of Josefino’s little stories.

EL MONO: Then maybe you’d like to explain it to me — loud and clear — because I don’t know what you’re talking about.

LITUMA: A woman can’t just vanish into thin air, overnight. After all, Piura’s only the size of a pocket handkerchief.

JOSEFINO: If she’d stayed in Piura, I’d have found her. No, she scarpered, all right. Maybe to Ecuador. Or Lima. (Pointing to the rocking chair where JOSE is sitting) She knows, but she’d die rather than give away her little secret, wouldn’t you, Chunguita? I lost a woman all because of you, a woman who’d have made me rich, but I don’t hold it against you, because basically I’ve got a heart of gold. Wouldn’t you agree?

EL MONO: Don’t start up about Mechita again, or you’ll give José a hard-on. (Nudging the invisible JOSE) It drives you crazy, doesn’t it — thinking about them up there, playing with each other?

LITUMA: (Carrying on, unperturbed) Someone would have seen her take the bus or a taxi. She would have said goodbye to somebody. She would have packed her things, taken them out of the house. But she left all her clothes and her suitcase behind. No one saw her go. So we can’t be so sure about her running away. Do you know what I sometimes think, Josefino?

EL MONO: (Touching LITUMA’s head) So you actually think! I thought donkeys only brayed, ha ha.

JOSEFINO: Well. What do you think, Einstein?

LITUMA: You beat her up, didn’t you? Don’t you beat up every woman who falls for you? Sometimes I think you go a bit too far.

JOSEFINO: (Laughing) So I killed her? Is that what you’re trying to say? What a profound idea, Lituma.

EL MONO: But this poor bastard couldn’t even kill a fly. He’s all mouth, just look at him there poncing around with his knife in his hand, as if he were the king pimp. I could knock him over with a feather. Do you want to see? (Blows.) Go on, over you go, don’t make a fool of me in front of my friends.

LITUMA: (Very seriously, developing his idea) You could have been jealous about Mechita spending the night with Chunga. And you’d just lost everything, down to your shirt, remember. So you were in a really filthy temper. You went home like a wild beast on the rampage. You needed to take it out on someone. Meche was there, and she was the one who got it in the neck. You could easily have gone too far.

JOSEFINO: (Amused) And then I cut her up into little pieces and threw her in the river? Is that it? You’re a bloody genius Lituma. (To the absent JOSE, handling him the dice) Here, José, it’s your turn to win now. The dice are all yours.

LITUMA: Poor Meche. She didn’t deserve a son of a bitch like you, Josefino.

JOSEFINO: The things one has to put up with from one’s friends. If you weren’t a superstud, I’d cut your balls off and throw them to the dogs.

EL MONO: Do you want to poison the poor little brutes? What harm have they ever done to you, for Christ’s sake?

(JOSE goes back to his seat, as discreetly as he left it. At the same time, without the other three being aware of him, LITUMA gets up and leaves the table.)

JOSEFINO: (To JOSE) Why are you so quiet? What’s up, mate?

JOSE: I’m losing and I don’t feel like talking. That’s all. Right, now my luck is going to change. (Picks up the dice and blows on them. Puts a banknote on the table.) There’s a hundred little sols. Who’s going to take me on? (Addressing Lituma’s chair as if he were still there) You, Lituma?

(In the two following scenes, JOSE, EL MONO and JOSEFINO behave as if LITUMA were still with them. But LITUMA is now at the foot of the small flight of stairs watching LA CHUNGA’s little room, which has just been lit up.)

Pimping

LA CHUNGA and MECHE are dressed. There is no sign whatever of them having undressed or made love. Their outward behaviour is very different from the previous scene in which they appeared. MECHE is sitting on the bed, a little dejected, and LA CHUNGA, who is standing in front of the bed, doesn’t seem at all like the sensual or domineering woman she was before, but rather more enigmatic and machiavellian. MECHE lights a cigarette. Draws the smoke into her lungs, trying to hide the fact that she feels uneasy.

MECHE: If you think he’s ever going to give you back those three thousand sols, you must be dreaming.

LA CHUNGA: I know I’ll never get them back. I don’t mind.

MECHE: (Scrutinizing her, intrigued) Do you really expect me to believe you, Chunga? Do you think I don’t know you’re the most tight-fisted woman in town, that you work day and night like a black so you can keep on coining it in?

LA CHUNGA: I mean, in this case, I don’t mind. Just as well for you, isn’t it? If I hadn’t given him that money, Josefino would have taken it all out on you.

MECHE: Yes. He would’ve beaten me up. Every time something goes wrong, every time he’s in a bad mood, I’m the one who pays for it. (Pause.) One of these days, he’s going to kill me.

LA CHUNGA: Why do you stay with him, silly?

MECHE: I don’t know … maybe that’s why. Because I’m silly.

LA CHUNGA: He beats you up and you still love him?

MECHE: I don’t really know if I love him. I did to begin with. Now maybe I stay with him just because I’m scared, Chunga. He’s … a brute. Sometimes even if I’ve done nothing, he makes me kneel down before him, as if he were a god. He takes out his knife and draws it across here. ‘Be grateful you’re still alive,’ he says. ‘You’re living on borrowed time, don’t ever forget that.’

LA CHUNGA: And you still stay with him? How stupid women can be. I’ll never understand how anyone can sink so low.

MECHE: You’ve obviously never been in love.

LA CHUNGA: And I never will be. I prefer to live without a man. In total solitude. No one’s ever going to make me go down on my knees. Or tell me I’m living on borrowed time.

MECHE: Ah, if only I could break loose from Josefino …

LA CHUNGA: (Like a spider attracting a fly into the web she’s spun for it) But you can, silly. (Smiling mischievously) Have you forgotten how pretty you are? Don’t you realize what you do to men when you walk past? None of them can take their eyes off you. Don’t they pay you all sorts of compliments? Don’t they make you propositions when he’s out of earshot?

MECHE: Yes. I could have been unfaithful to him a thousand times, if I’d wanted to. I’ve had plenty of chances.

LA CHUNGA: (Sitting beside her) Of course you have. But perhaps you haven’t realized the best chance you ever had.

MECHE: (Surprised) Who are you talking about?

LA CHUNGA: Someone who’s crazy about you. Someone who’d do anything you asked, just to be with you, because he thinks you’re the most beautiful, the most exquisite creature alive — a queen, a goddess. You could have him at your feet, Meche. He’d never ill-treat or frighten you.

MECHE: But who are you talking about?

LA CHUNGA: Haven’t you noticed? I suppose it’s understandable. He’s very shy with women …

MECHE: Now I know why you gave those three thousand sols to Josefino. Not because you’re a dike. But because you’re a pimp, Chunga.

LA CHUNGA: (Laughing, warmly and affectionately) Did you think I was going to pay three thousand sols to make love to you? No, Mechita, no man or woman alive is worth that much to me. Those three thousand sols aren’t mine. They belong to the man who loves you. He’s prepared to spend all he’s got and more just to have you. Be nice to him. Remember you promised to do whatever I asked. Now’s your chance to get your own back on Josefino for all those thrashings. Make the most of it.

(LITUMA has gone up the little staircase and is at the door of the room, but he doesn’t dare go in. LA CHUNGA goes out to meet him.)

Go on in. She’s there waiting for you. She’s yours. I’ve already had a word with her, don’t worry. Go on, Lituma, don’t be frightened. She’s all yours, enjoy it.

(With a sardonic little laugh, she leaves the room and goes to sit down in her rocking chair. The superstuds carry on drinking and gambling.)

A romantic love affair

MECHE: (Surprised) So it was you. The last person I would have suspected. Mono or José, perhaps — they’re always flirting with me, and they sometimes go even further when Josefino isn’t looking. But you, Lituma, you’ve never said a single word to me.

LITUMA: (Deeply embarrassed) I’ve never dared, Mechita. I’ve never quite been able to show what I felt about you. But, but I …

MECHE: (Amused at his awkwardness) You’re all sweaty, your voice is trembling, you’re so shy, it’s painful. How funny you are, Lituma.

LITUMA: (Imploring) Please, don’t laugh at me, Meche. For the love of God … I beg you …

MECHE: Have you always been frightened of women?

LITUMA: (Very sorrowfully) Not frightened exactly. It’s just that … I never know what to say to them. I’m not like the others. When they meet a girl they know how to chat her up, and make a date with her. I’ve never been able to do that. I get so worked up, I can’t get the words out.

MECHE: Haven’t you ever had a girlfriend?

LITUMA: I’ve never had a woman without paying for her, Mechita. Only the whores at the Casa Verde. And they always make me pay.

MECHE: Just like you’re paying for me now.

LITUMA: (Kneeling before MECHE) Don’t compare yourself with those whores, Mechita, not even in fun.

MECHE: What are you doing?

LITUMA: I’d never make you go down on your knees to me, like Josefino does. I’d spend my life on my knees in front of you. I’d worship you, Meche, as if you were a queen. (He crouches down and tries to kiss her feet.)

MECHE: Ha ha, when you do that, you’re just like a little lapdog.

LITUMA: (Still trying to kiss her feet) Then at least let me be your lapdog, Meche. I’ll obey you, I’ll be loving and gentle whenever you want or if you’d rather I’ll just lie still. Don’t laugh, I’m being serious.

MECHE: Would you really do anything for me?

LITUMA: Try me.

MECHE: Would you kill Josefino if I asked you to?

LITUMA: Yes.

MECHE: But I thought he was your friend.

LITUMA: You’re worth more to me than any friend, Mechita. Do you believe that?

(MECHE puts her hand on his head, as if stroking an animal.)

MECHE: Come, and sit beside me. I don’t want anyone to grovel to me like that.

LITUMA: (Sitting beside her, on the bed, without daring to go very close to her or even touch her) I’ve been in love with you since the first day I saw you. In the Río-Bar, on the Old Bridge. Don’t you remember? No. Why should you remember? You never seemed to take any notice of me, even when you were looking straight at me.

MECHE: In the Río-Bar?

LITUMA: José, Mono and I were in the middle of a game, when in came Josefino with you on his arm. (Imitating him) Hey, look what I’ve found. What d’you think of her, eh? Then he lifted you up by the waist and paraded you in front of everyone. (His face suddenly clouds over.) I hate him when he does things like that to you.

MECHE: Does he make you jealous?

LITUMA: No, he makes me envious, though. (Pause.) Tell me, Mechita. Is it true he’s got one this big? Is that why women are so crazy about him? He never stops bragging to us: ‘Mine’s a real whopper,’ he says. But I’ve asked the whores in the Casa Verde and they say it’s not true, that it’s the normal size — just like everyone else’s.

MECHE: You aren’t going to have much success with me if you say such disgusting things, Lituma.

LITUMA: I’m sorry. You’re right, I shouldn’t have asked you that. But, doesn’t it seem unfair? Josefino behaves so boorishly with women. He knocks them around, they fall in love with him, and when he’s got them really hooked, he sends them out to whore for him. And in spite of that, he still gets the ones he wants. Yet someone like me, who’s an honest, well-meaning, gentlemanly sort, who’d be prepared to treat any woman who loved him like precious china, never gets any attention at all. I ask you, is that fair?

MECHE: It may not be fair. But is anything in life fair?

LITUMA: Is it because I’m ugly that they don’t pay any attention to me, Mechita?

MECHE: (Making fun of him) Here. Let me have a look at you. No, you’re not that ugly, Lituma.

LITUMA: Please be serious with me. I’m telling you things I’ve never told anyone in my life before.

(MECHE looks at him for a moment mistrustfully.)

MECHE: Did you fall in love with me the first time you saw me?

LITUMA: (nodding) I didn’t sleep all night. In the darkness, I kept seeing you. I thought you were the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. I thought women like you only existed in the cinema. I worked myself up into such a state that I even cried, Mechita. I can’t tell you how many nights I’ve lain awake, thinking about you.

MECHE: And you say you don’t know how to talk to women. It’s beautiful, what you’re telling me.

(LITUMA puts his hand in his pocket and takes out a small photograph.)

LITUMA: Look. I always carry you around with me.

MECHE: Where did you get that photo from?

LITUMA: I stole it from Josefino. It’s a bit faded — with all the kissing I’ve given it.

MECHE: (Stroking his head again) Why didn’t you ever say anything to me before, silly?

LITUMA: We’ve still time, haven’t we? Marry me, Mechita. Let’s leave Piura. Let’s start a new life.

MECHE: But you’re broke, Lituma. Like the rest of the superstuds. And you’ve never done a day’s work in your life, either.

LITUMA: Because I’ve never had anyone to push me, to make me change the way I live. You don’t think I enjoy being a superstud, do you? Marry me — you’ll see how different I can be, Mechita. I’ll work hard, I’ll do anything. You’ll always have everything you want.

MECHE: Would we go to Lima?

LITUMA: To Lima, yes. Or wherever you want.

MECHE: I’ve always wanted to go to Lima. It’s such a large city, Josefino would never find us.

LITUMA: Of course not. And besides what would it matter if he did find us? Are you afraid of him?

MECHE: Yes.

LITUMA: With me you wouldn’t be. He’s quite harmless, really, he’s just a loud mouth. I know him very well — we were kids together. He’s not from round here, of course — he’s from the Gallinacera. There, they’re all talk and no action.

MECHE: Well, he’s not all talk with me. He sometimes beats me practically unconscious. If I left him to go away with you, he’d kill me.

LITUMA: Nonsense, Meche. He’d get himself another woman, just like that. Let’s go to Lima. Tonight.

MECHE: (tempted) Tonight?

LITUMA: We’ll catch the bus from the Cruz de Chalpón. Come on.

MECHE: Shall we get married?

LITUMA: As soon as we get to Lima, I promise you. It’s the first thing we’ll do. Would you like that? Shall we go? (Pause.)

MECHE: Let’s go. We’ll never return to Piura. I hope I won’t live to regret this one day, Lituma.

LITUMA: (Kneeling again) I promise you never will, Mechita. Thank you, thank you. Ask me for something, anything you want, just tell me to do something.

MECHE: Get up, we’ve no time to waste. Go and pack your suitcase, and buy the tickets. Wait for me at the Cruz de Chalpón bus station. Halfway up Avenida Grau, all right? I’ll be there, just before twelve.

LITUMA: Where are you going?

MECHE: I can’t just leave without taking anything with me. I’m going to fetch my things. Just a few essentials.

LITUMA: I’ll come with you.

MECHE: No, it’s not necessary. Josefino is in the Casa Verde and he never gets back till dawn — I’ve got more than enough time. We mustn’t be seen together on the street though, no one must suspect a thing.

LITUMA: (Kissing her hands) Mechita, Mechita, darling. I’m so happy I can’t believe it’s true. (Crosses himself, looks at the sky.) Thank you God, dear sweet God. From now on I’m going to be different, I’m going to stop being lazy — I’m going to stop gambling, living it up, lying … I swear to you …

MECHE: (Pushing him) Come on, hurry up, we’re wasting time, Lituma. Quickly, run …

LITUMA: Yes, yes, whatever you say, Mechita.

(He gets up hurriedly, rushes towards the staircase, but there he loses his impetus. He slows down — comes to a halt — and slowly returns to the gambling table, weary and sad. The superstuds do not notice him. Once again the central focus is on them, as they continue to gamble, swear and drink toasts to each other.)

Fantasies on a crime

EL MONO: And why not? Lituma’s right, it could have happened like that. Just shut your eyes for a moment and imagine Mechita: she rushes into the house looking frantically around to left and right, her little buttocks all clenched with fear.

JOSE: She starts to throw things into her suitcase at breakneck speed, trembling all over, tripping over the furniture, packing the wrong things, unpacking them again, panic-stricken at the thought that at any moment who might arrive but the Great Pimp himself. Out of sheer anxiety her little nipples have become as hard as pebbles. Scrumptious.

JOSEFINO: (Laughing) And then what? Go on. What happened next?

LITUMA: Then you arrived. Before she finished packing.

JOSEFINO: And I killed her because I caught her packing her suitcase?

EL MONO: No. That would have been your excuse. You killed her because you were furious at the way things had turned out. Remember, I’d practically taken the shirt off your back. Shit, if I ever have another hand like the one I had that night. Holy Whore!

JOSE: Or maybe you got an attack of jealousy. Perhaps Meche told you that Chunga had made her so happy that she was going to come and live with her.

JOSEFINO: I wouldn’t have killed her for that. I’d probably have sent Chunga some flowers. And a postcard saying: ‘Congratulations. You won.’ I’m a bloody fine sport you know!

LA CHUNGA: (From her armchair, yawning) It’s nearly twelve and I’m tired. Last orders.

LITUMA: Quiet, Chunga, you’re ruining my inspiration. When you saw she was in the middle of packing, you asked her, ‘Off for a little holiday then, are we?’ ‘I’m leaving you,’ she said.

JOSEFINO: And why would she leave me? She was completely besotted with me.

LITUMA: (Serious and self-absorbed, not hearing him) ‘I’m leaving you because I’m in love with a better man than you.’

JOSEFINO: Better than me? And where did she dig up this … paragon?

LITUMA: ‘Someone who won’t beat me, someone who’ll be faithful to me, and be good to me. Someone who’s not a bastard or a pimp, but who’s decent and honest. And, what’s more, who’s prepared to marry me.’

JOSEFINO: What a fantastic load of crap. None of you lot can find a single good reason why I should have killed Mechita.

LITUMA: You were beside yourself with rage, Josefino. So you laid into her savagely. You probably only intended to give her a trouncing. But you got carried away and finished the poor little thing off.

JOSEFINO: I see. And what the hell did I do with the body?

EL MONO: You threw it in the river.

JOSEFINO: It was September. The river is dry in September. What did I do with the body? Come on, guess. Tell me how I committed my perfect crime?

JOSE: You buried it in the sand, behind your house.

EL MONO: You threw it to the dogs — those German beasts that guard Senor Beckman’s warehouse. They wouldn’t even leave the small bones.

JOSE: OK, I’m bored with these detective games. Let’s go down to the Casa Verde for a quick one. Coming?

JOSEFINO: Why go so far, when you’ve got Chunga there? Go on, give her a taste of what she likes.

LA CHUNGA: I’ll tell him who he can give ‘a taste of what she likes’ to, Josefino, you bastard.

JOSEFINO: Are you insulting my mother by any chance, Chunga? Now that’s one thing I won’t stand for.

LA CHUNGA: Then don’t you insult me.

EL MONO: Take no notice of him, Chunguita. You’ve got to make allowances. He’s from the Gallinacera, remember.

JOSE: It’s a pity you’re always so bad-tempered, Chunga. Specially with us, who are so fond of you. You know you’re our lucky mascot.

(EL MONO gets up without his friends noticing and approaches LA CHUNGA.)

EL MONO: These tykes are always getting under your skin, aren’t they, Chunga? You’ve got to forgive them — they’re just a bunch of ignoramuses. But I always behave myself, don’t I? I hope you’ve noticed that. I don’t upset you, or make fun of you — and I don’t join in when they’re annoying you either. I love you very much, Chunga.

LA CHUNGA: (Looking at him compassionately) You don’t have to put on that good-little-boy act with me. What’s the point? I’m going to give you a good time, whatever you do. Come, give me your hand.

(She takes his hand and leads him to the staircase. She goes up with him. He looks happy; his eyes have lit up, like a child who’s about to satisfy a burning ambition. The superstuds carry on gambling with El Mono’s ghost.)

A naughty little boy

MECHE: Hello, Monito.

EL MONO: Hello, Meche.

LA CHUNGA: Come in, don’t be afraid, we’re not going to hurt you.

EL MONO: I know you’re both very kind.

MECHE: Come and sit down here, beside me.

(EL MONO sits on the bed, next to MECHE. LA CHUNGA sits on the other side. The two women treat EL MONO as if he were a spoilt child, and he too, in his expression and behaviour, seems to have regressed to childhood. A sigh escapes him. And another. It would appear something is preying on his mind, something he would like to share with them, but doesn’t dare.)

LA CHUNGA: Relax, make yourself at home. Now what’s on your mind? Don’t be shy, you’re the boss. Your wish is our command.

MECHE: We’re here to please you in whatever way we can. Now, what turns you on?

LA CHUNGA: Do you want us to do a striptease for you, Monito?

MECHE: Want us to dance together naked, just for you?

EL MONO: (Hiding his face in horror) No. No. Please.

LA CHUNGA: (Pointing at the bed) Would you like us to go to bed together, the three of us, with you in the middle?

MECHE: Like us to stroke you, until you shout, ‘Stop, stop, I can’t stand any more?’

LA CHUNGA: Do you want us to pose for you?

EL MONO: (Laughing, very nervously) Don’t joke like that, please, it embarrasses me. (Overcome by a sudden attack of melancholy) You’re such good people, Chunga, Mechita. I’m sorry I’m behaving like this, but I’m not like you. I … I’m a shit.

LA CHUNGA: Don’t say that. It’s not true.

MECHE: A bit of a clown, perhaps. But you’re a good boy really, Monito.

EL MONO: You’re wrong. I’m not good at all. I’m one of the worst, filthiest little boys around. And don’t try and tell me I’m not. You see, the trouble is, neither of you really knows. If I were to tell you …

LA CHUNGA: Come on then, tell us.

MECHE: You want us to comfort you? Is that what you want?

EL MONO: I don’t want to force you into anything. Only if you insist …

(LA CHUNGA makes him rest his head on her lap. EL MONO curls up like a frightened child.)

LA CHUNGA: Come on, rest your head here. Make yourself comfortable.

MECHE: (In a soft, caressing voice) Tell us, Monito.

EL MONO: (Nervously, and with great difficulty) I didn’t even realize what I was doing. I was very young, a little boy in short trousers.

LA CHUNGA: Are you talking about what happened with the little girl next door? Dona Jesusa’s daughter.

EL MONO: I was only a little boy. Do little boys act sensibly?

MECHE: Of course not, Monito. So, carry on. I’ll help you. You were keeping watch — waiting for Dona Jesusa to go out to the market, to her vegetable stall …

LA CHUNGA: And when she came out, you went into her house without anyone seeing you. Jumping over the bamboo fence by the banana plantation. Wasn’t that it?

EL MONO: Yes. And there she was, squatting down, milking the goat. She was squeezing its teats. Like this. And she wasn’t wearing any knickers, Chunga! I swear it!

MECHE: Don’t worry, we believe you. So you saw everything.

EL MONO: Or rather she showed me everything, Mechita. Why else would she be knickerless? Why else would she be? So that people would see her little thing, so that she could show it off to the men.

LA CHUNGA: Do you mean that she provoked you, Monito? Then you’re not to blame for anything. She was asking for it, the dirty brazen little hussy.

MECHE: Is that what you wanted to tell us? That it was all her fault?

EL MONO: (Sadly) Well, no. I was a little bit to blame, too. I mean I did sneak secretly into Dona Jesusa’s house, didn’t I? That’s what burglars do, isn’t it?

LA CHUNGA: But you didn’t go in to steal anything, Monito.

EL MONO: No. I just went in to see the girl.

MECHE: Did you want to see her naked?

EL MONO: I was only small, you understand. I didn’t know what I was doing. I couldn’t yet tell the difference between right and wrong.

LA CHUNGA: But you had a knife, this long, Mono. Remember?

EL MONO: I remember.

MECHE: Didn’t you feel sorry for the girl? Not even when she smiled at you, thinking that it was just an innocent little prank.

EL MONO: It was an innocent little prank. But she had no knickers on, Meche. She provoked me. She led me on …

LA CHUNGA: (Admonishing him, not very severely) Come on, tell us the truth, Monito. She did have knickers on. You made her take them off.

MECHE: By threatening to kill her. Yes or no, Monito?

EL MONO: Well, perhaps. It’s a long time ago now. I’ve forgotten.

LA CHUNGA: Lies. You haven’t forgotten. You tore off her dress and ordered her to take down her knickers. And when she did, you saw what you wanted to see. Isn’t that it, Monito?

EL MONO: (Ashamed) Yes, Chunguita.

MECHE: And you fondled her, didn’t you? And you felt her all over. Yes or no?

EL MONO: (Distressed) But I didn’t rape her, Meche. I swear to Almighty God I didn’t rape her. Not that.

LA CHUNGA: You didn’t rape her? Well, what did you do then? Doesn’t it come to the same thing?

EL MONO: (Laughing) How can it be the same thing! Don’t be silly, Chunga. (Lowering his voice and lifting a finger to his lips, going shhht! shhht! as if he were going to reveal a great secret) I put it up her little one, don’t you see? But she remained intact where it counted. There wasn’t a blemish, not even a scratch, it was all in one piece for her husband to break on the night of his wedding. It’s a very important distinction. Ask Padre García if you like. ‘If the hymen isn’t broken, I’ll absolve you. But if it is, there’s no excuse, you little so-and-so, you’ll have to marry Jesusa’s little girl.’ Well, she didn’t marry me, in other words … You women keep your honour in that tiny little treasure chest — that’s why you must protect it, tooth and nail. But we men, on the other hand, keep our honour round the other side. And woe betide anyone who gets it up his little one, because bingo, he’s buggered for the rest of his life. (LA CHUNGA and MECHE look at him, teasing and silent — and he becomes sad and remorseful. He sits up.)

Yes, it’s true, you’re right about what you’re thinking. It was very wicked what I did to the little girl. I could fool Padre García, but not you. I know that when I die, God will punish me for it.

LA CHUNGA: Why wait so long, Monito?

MECHE: We could punish you now.

(EL MONO takes off his belt and gives it to her. He adopts a position suitable for being whipped.)

All right. Take away all my filth — make me pay for my wickedness. Don’t spare me. Take away my honour, Chunga, Mechita.

LA CHUNGA and MECHE: (As they beat him) Naughty little boy! You bad-mannered child! You beastly little boy! You depraved child! Vicious little boy! Wicked child! Degenerate!

(EL MONO groans, receives the strokes, cowering, sweating with a sense of enjoyment that culminates in a spasm of ecstacy. MECHE and LA CHUNGA sit down and watch him. Satisfied but melancholy, he stands up, wipes his forehead, puts on his belt again and combs his hair. Without looking at them he leaves the room discreetly and takes his place again at the table of the superstuds.)

LA CHUNGA: Are you going without even saying goodbye or thank you, Monito?

MECHE: Come back and tell us more whenever you like, Monito.

Two friends

As soon as EL MONO disappears from the room, MECHE and LA CHUNGA change their demeanour, as if the previous scene had not taken place.

LA CHUNGA: Some are better actors than others. But you only have to scratch a little beneath the surface, and there’s a wild beast waiting to pounce.

MECHE: Do you think all men are like that, Chunga? Have they all got something nasty to hide?

LA CHUNGA: All the ones I know do.

MECHE: Are we women any better?

LA CHUNGA: At least what we’ve got between our legs doesn’t turn us into foul demons.

MECHE: (Touching her stomach) Then I hope to goodness it’s a girl.

LA CHUNGA: Are you pregnant?

MECHE: I haven’t had a period for two months.

LA CHUNGA: Haven’t you been to see anyone?

MECHE: I’m afraid they’ll tell me I am.

LA CHUNGA: Don’t you want to have it?

MECHE: Of course I do. But Josefino doesn’t. If I’m pregnant, he’ll make me get rid of it. No woman’s going to tie him down with a child, he says.

LA CHUNGA: He’s right there, I grant him. I don’t think it’s worth while bringing more people into this world. What do you want a child for? If it’s a boy, he’ll only grow up to be just like one of them.

MECHE: If everyone thought like that, life would soon come to an end.

LA CHUNGA: It could end tomorrow for all I care.

(Pause.)

MECHE: Do you know something, Chunga? I don’t think you’re as bitter as you’d have me believe.

LA CHUNGA: And what would I have you believe?

MECHE: If you were, I wouldn’t be here. (There is a twinkle in her eye.) You wouldn’t have given Josefino those three thousand sols for me to spend the night with you. Besides …

LA CHUNGA: Besides what?

MECHE: (Indicating the bed) A little while ago, when you were holding me in your arms, you said some very tender things to me. That I made you feel as if you were in heaven, that you were happy. Were you lying to me?

LA CHUNGA: No. It was true.

MECHE: So life isn’t so ugly after all. It has its advantages too. (Laughs) I’m glad I’m one of the good things life has to offer you, Chunga. (Pause.) Can I ask you a question?

LA CHUNGA: If it’s how many women have been here before you, it’s better you don’t. I’m not going to tell you, anyway. MECHE: No, it’s not that. But, could you ever fall in love with me, Chunga? Like a man does with a woman? Could you ever love me?

LA CHUNGA: I wouldn’t fall in love with you or with anyone else.

MECHE: I don’t believe you, Chunga. No one can live without love. What would life be like if you didn’t love someone, if you weren’t loved by anyone?

LA CHUNGA: When a woman falls in love, she becomes weak. She lets herself be dominated. (Looks at her in silence for a while.) Now do you think that’s a good thing? We’ll talk about it again when you see what Josefino does with your love. We’ll talk about it when you’re in the Casa Verde.

MECHE: Why do you keep frightening me with that?

LA CHUNGA: Because I know what will happen to you. He’s got you in the palm of his hand, he already does what he likes with you. One of these nights, in a fit of drunkenness, he’ll lend you to one of the superstuds, but that’s just the beginning. He’ll end up by persuading you to whore for him, with some cock and bull story about saving money for a little house, or a holiday, or to get married.

MECHE: When you tell me these things, I don’t know if you’re doing it out of kindness or spite. If you really want to help me, or if you just like frightening me.

LA CHUNGA: I want to help you.

MECHE: But why? You couldn’t be in love with me, could you? You’ve just said you weren’t. Why should you want to help me, you, to whom everything is like water off a duck’s back — you who don’t give a damn about anyone.

LA CHUNGA: (Looking at her, thinking) You’re right. I don’t know why I’m giving you advice. Why should your life matter to me?

MECHE: Have you given advice before to one of Josefino’s girlfriends?

LA CHUNGA: No.

(She looks closely at MECHE. Takes her chin in her hand and forces her to look her in the eyes. She puts her face very close to MECHE’s.)

Perhaps I feel sorrier for you than I did for the others, because you’re more attractive. Another one of life’s injustices. If you didn’t have such a pretty little face, I’m quite sure I wouldn’t give a damn what Josefino did with you.

MECHE: Sometimes I think you’re a monster, Chunga.

LA CHUNGA: Because you don’t want to see life as it is. It’s life that’s monstrous. Not me.

MECHE: If life is as you say it is, it’s preferable to be like me. And not to think about what’s going to happen. Just live for the moment. And let God take care of the rest.

(She looks at her stomach, with an expression of despair.)

LA CHUNGA: Perhaps you’ll work that miracle: perhaps you’ll reform Josefino.

MECHE: You know that won’t happen.

LA CHUNGA: No. It won’t happen.

(MECHE leans against LA CHUNGA and rests her head on her shoulder. LA CHUNGA doesn’t embrace her.)

MECHE: I wish I was strong like you. You know your own worth, you can stick up for yourself. If I didn’t have anyone to look after me, I don’t know what I’d do.

LA CHUNGA: You’ve got two hands, haven’t you?

MECHE: I can hardly read, Chunga. Where would I find work? Except as a servant. Sweeping, washing, ironing, morning, noon and night for the rich men of Piura. No, I wouldn’t do that.

(Pause.)

LA CHUNGA: If I’d known that you might be pregnant, I wouldn’t have made love to you.

MECHE: Do pregnant women disgust you?

LA CHUNGA: Yes. (Pause.) Did it upset you, what we did?

MECHE: Upset me? I don’t know. I don’t …

LA CHUNGA: Tell me the truth.

MECHE: At first, yes, a bit. I felt like laughing. I mean, you’re not a man, are you? It didn’t seem real, it was like a game. I was trying not to laugh, at first.

LA CHUNGA: If you had laughed …

MECHE: You’d have hit me?

LA CHUNGA: Yes, I’d probably have hit you.

MECHE: And yet you were saying that it was only men who are turned into foul demons by what they have between their legs.

LA CHUNGA: I must be a man, then.

MECHE: No, you’re not. You’re a woman. You could be an attractive woman too, if you wanted to be.

LA CHUNGA: I don’t want to be attractive. No one would respect me if I were.

MECHE: Did what I said annoy you?

LA CHUNGA: About trying not to laugh? No, I asked you to tell me the truth.

MECHE: I want you to know something, Chunga. Although I’m not a dike, sorry — like you, I mean — I am fond of you. I’d like us to be friends.

LA CHUNGA: Go on, leave Piura. Don’t be silly. Can’t you see you’re already half caught in the trap? Before Josefino gives you the coup de grâce, get out of here. As far away as you can. You’ve still got time. (Turns MECHE’s face towards her with her hand.) I’ll help you.

MECHE: Will you really, Chunga?

LA CHUNGA: Yes. (Strokes MECHE’s face with her hand again in a swift caress.) I don’t want to see you rotting away in the Casa Verde, being passed around from one drunk to another … Go on, take my advice and go to Lima.

MECHE: What’ll I do in Lima? I don’t know anyone there.

LA CHUNGA: Learn how to stand on your own feet. But don’t be stupid. Don’t go and fall in love. It distracts you and there’s no hope for a distracted woman. Let them do the falling in love. Not you. You look for security, a better life than the one you have now. But always remember this. Deep down, all men are like Josefino. If you show too much affection for them, you’ve had it.

MECHE: Don’t talk like that, Chunga. You know when you say things like that, you remind me of him?

LA CHUNGA: Then Josefino and I must have something in common.

(As if the mention of his name had been a summons, JOSEFINO gets up from the superstuds’ table and goes up the little staircase.)

The great pimp

Although MECHE is in the little room and follows with interest what is being said, JOSEFINO and LA CHUNGA act as if she is not there.

JOSEFINO: Hello, Chunga. (Looks round and casts his eyes over MECHE without seeing her.) I’ve come to take Meche away with me.

LA CHUNGA: She’s gone already.

JOSEFINO: So soon? You could have held on to her a little bit longer. (With an impudent little laugh) Then you could really have got your money’s worth.

(LA CHUNGA confines herself to looking at him with that expression of reproof and disgust with which she always looks at him.)

Well, how was she? What was it like?

LA CHUNGA: What was what like?

JOSEFINO: Mechita. Was she worth it?

LA CHUNGA: You’ve been on the booze all night, haven’t you? You stink from head to foot.

JOSEFINO: What else could I do, Chunguita, since you’d taken away my little woman. So, tell me, how did Meche behave?

LA CHUNGA: I’m not going to tell you. It wasn’t in the contract.

JOSEFINO: (Laughing) You’re right. Ha ha. Next time I’ll put in a special clause. (Pause.) Why don’t you like me, Chunga? Don’t lie, I realize that you’ve never seen eye to eye with me.

LA CHUNGA: I’ve no reason to lie. You’re quite right. I’ve always thought you were one of the most poisonous creatures alive.

JOSEFINO: And yet I’ve always had a soft spot for you. Quite seriously, Chunga.

LA CHUNGA: (Laughing) Are you going to try and seduce me too? Go on. Show me how you lure all those poor idiots into your snare.

JOSEFINO: No, I’m not going to try and seduce you. (Undressing her with his look) It’s not because I don’t want to, I assure you. Actually, I find you quite attractive as a woman. But I know when I’m defeated. I’d be wasting my time with you, you wouldn’t take any notice of me. And I’ve never wasted time with women.

LA CHUNGA: Right then, be off with you.

JOSEFINO: First, let’s talk. I want to make you a proposition. A deal.

LA CHUNGA: A deal? Between you and me?

(JOSEFINO sits on the bed, lights a cigarette. It’s clear that he’s thought about what he’s going to say for a long time.)

JOSEFINO: I don’t want to carry on being what I am, Chunga. A superstud and all that. Hell, I’ve got ambitions. I want to have money, drink champagne, smoke expensive tobacco, wear white silk suits, have my own car, my own house, servants. I want to be able to travel. I want to live like the rich do round here, Chunga. That’s what you want too, isn’t it? That’s why you work, morning, noon and night, that’s what you practically sell your soul for. Because you want another life, one you can only get with money. Let’s become partners, Chunga. You and I together, we could do great things.

LA CHUNGA: I know what you’re going to propose.

JOSEFINO: All the better, then.

LA CHUNGA: The answer is no.

JOSEFINO: Why are you so prejudiced? What’s the difference between this little bar and a brothel? I’ll tell you what: here you earn a few miserable cents, but in a brothel you’d make millions. (Standing up, gesticulating, walking round the room) I’ve got everything taped, Chunga. We can start with about four little rooms. They can be built round the back, behind the kitchen, in the yard where the rubbish is dumped. Nothing fancy, just straw matting and bamboo. I’ll take charge of the girls. All first class guaranteed. In the Casa Verde they take 50 per cent off them. We’ll take forty so we’ll be able to pull whichever ones we want. Just a few at first — quality rather than quantity. I’ll see to the discipline and you can do the administration. (Anxiously, vehemently) We’ll become rich, Chunguita.

LA CHUNGA: If I’d wanted to set up a brothel, I’d have done it already. What do I need you for?

JOSEFINO: For the girls. I may be all sorts of things. But in that particular field, have I proved my worth or not? I’m the best there is, Chunga. I’ll get first-rate girls — ones that haven’t worked before. Virgins even, you’ll see. Young fifteen-, sixteen-year-olds. The clients will go out of their minds, Chunga. We’ll have all the little rich boys in Piura, prepared to pay the earth — for fresh young girls, who are just starting out in the world …

LA CHUNGA: Like Meche?

JOSEFINO: Well, Meche is not so fresh any more, ha ha … We’d keep her as the resident celebrity, the star attraction, of course. I swear to you I’ll get girls as good if not better than Meche, Chunga.

LA CHUNGA: And what if they don’t want to work?

JOSEFINO: That’s my affair. I may not know much else, but teaching a girl that what God gave her is a prize lottery ticket, that I do know how to do. Because of me fortunes have been made at the Casa Verde. And what do I get in return? Bloody hell, a few mangy tips. Well I’ve had enough of it, now I want to be a capitalist too. What do you say, Chunguita?

LA CHUNGA: I’ve already told you. No.

JOSEFINO: Why, Chunga? Don’t you trust me?

LA CHUNGA: Of course I don’t trust you. The very day after we went into partnership, you’d start lying to me and cheating me.

JOSEFINO: I wouldn’t, Chunga. I promise you. You’d handle all the money. I’d be prepared to accept that. You’d be responsible for the agreements with the girls, you’d decide on the percentages. I wouldn’t touch a cent. You’d have carte blanche. We’d do what you decide. What more do you want? Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.

LA CHUNGA: You’ll never be anyone’s gift horse, Josefino. And certainly not a woman’s. You’re bad luck for any poor woman who’s gullible enough to believe what you say.

JOSEFINO: So you’ve become all righteous now, Chunguita? I’ve never pointed a pistol at any woman’s head. I just convince them of one truth. That in one night at the Casa Verde they can earn more money than working for six months in the market. Well, am I right, or not? Thanks to me, some of those women live better than we do, for God’s sake.

LA CHUNGA: It’s not because I’m righteous that I don’t want to be your partner. I don’t feel sorry for them. If they were stupid enough to listen to you, they deserve whatever they get.

JOSEFINO: I don’t like the way you’re talking to me, Chunga. I came here peacefully, to make you a sound proposition. And you insult me. What if I do get annoyed? Do you think a dike like you is any match for me? (As he speaks he gets more and more irritated.) Do you know what could happen if I got annoyed? The truth is I’m fed up with these airs and graces you give yourself, as if you own the whole fucking world. I’ve had enough of it, Christ Almighty. I’m going to teach you a lesson, and put you in your place. You’ve been asking for it now for quite some time. No woman, let alone a dike, is going to look down on me. (He takes out his knife and threatens LA CHUNGA, as if she were still in front of him. But in fact, LA CHUNGA has discreetly moved beside MECHE. Both look at JOSEFINO who carries on talking, threatening an invisible LA CHUNGA.)

Now, you dike, you? Afraid, aren’t you? Pissing yourself with fear, aren’t you? Now you’re going to see how I deal with insubordinate women. There’s nothing I like more than a woman who gets fresh with me. It makes me feel randy if you want to know. Down on your knees. Bloody hell, will you do as I say — if you don’t want me to play noughts and crosses all over your face. On your knees, I said. You believe you’re quite something, don’t you? Just because you’ve got this filthy pigsty — just because you’ve saved the odd buck by exploiting bastards like us who come and drink your beer, and put up with your bad temper. Do you think I don’t know who you are? Do you think all Piura doesn’t know you were born in the Casa Verde, for Christ’s sake. Amongst the prostitutes, the douches and the filth. Keep still there, I didn’t tell you to get up, stay on your knees or I’ll cut you to shreds, you bitch. Because that’s what you are, Chunga. You were born in the Casa Verde, that’s to say you’re the daughter of a prostitute. So don’t come the high and mighty with me, I know very well where you were dragged up. Now suck. Suck or I’ll kill you, you bitch. Obey your man, and suck. Slowly and with feeling. Learn how to be my whore. (For a while, he mimes the scene, sweating, trembling, caressing the invisible LA CHUNGA.)

Now swallow what you’ve got in your mouth. It’s my birthday present. (Lets out a little laugh, appeased and even a little bored.) They say it’s good for the complexion, ha ha. Did you get a fright? Did you think I was going to kill you? What a fool you are. I’m not capable of killing a woman. I’m really a gentleman, Chunguita. I respect the weaker sex. It’s a game, you see? It excites me and I like it. Don’t you have your little games too? When we know each other a little better you can tell me, and I’ll oblige … I’m not one of those men who believe a woman shouldn’t have her pleasure and that if you teach her to let herself go, she’ll end up by being unfaithful to you. That’s what José and Mono think. But not me, I’m fair-minded. Women have their rights too, why shouldn’t they? Let’s be friends, Chunguita, shall we? Don’t be bitter. Let’s make it up. Let’s shake on it.

(LA CHUNGA has materialized again beside JOSEFINO.) Now what do you say if we strike that bargain? We’ll get rich, I swear.

LA CHUNGA: We wouldn’t get rich. Perhaps we’d make more than I earn at the moment. But I’d certainly end up losing sooner or later. You’d make me feel that you were the stronger, like you’re doing now. And if I ever disagreed with you, out would come your knife, your fists, your boots — you’d end up winning. I prefer to die poor than to get rich with you.

JOSEFINO: (Going to join the other superstuds, who are gambling at the table) How stupid women can be, God Almighty …

The end of the party

Long pause between MECHE and LA CHUNGA while they watch JOSEFINO going down the staircase and taking up his seat again.

MECHE: Chunga, can I go now? It’ll soon be light. It must be about six, mustn’t it?

LA CHUNGA: Yes, you can go. Don’t you want to sleep a little first?

MECHE: If you don’t mind, I’d prefer to go.

LA CHUNGA: I don’t mind.

(They go down the staircase together and head towards the exit. They stop by the rocking chair. The superstuds have finished their beers. They yawn as they play and appear not to see the two women.)

MECHE: (A little hesitant) If you want me to come back again, and stay with you sometime, I mean at night …

LA CHUNGA: Of course I’d like us to spend another night together.

MECHE: Right, there’s no problem. I don’t mind, Chunga, I even …

LA CHUNGA: Wait, let me finish. I’d like to, but I don’t want to. I don’t want you to spend another night with me, nor do I want you ever to come back here.

MECHE: But why, Chunga? What have I done?

LA CHUNGA: (Looking at her for a moment, silently, and then, drawing her face towards her as before) Because you are very pretty. Because I like you and because you’ve made me care about you, and what happens to you. That, for me, is just as dangerous as falling in love, Meche. I told you before I can’t let myself be distracted. I’d lose the battle. That’s why I don’t ever want to see you here again.

MECHE: I don’t understand what you’re saying, Chunga.

LA CHUNGA: I know you don’t understand. It doesn’t matter.

MECHE: Are you annoyed with me about something?

LA CHUNGA: No, I’m not annoyed about anything. (Hands her some money.) Here. It’s a present. For you, not for Josefino. Don’t let him have it, and don’t tell him I gave it to you.

MECHE: (Confused) No, I won’t tell him anything. (Hides the money in her clothes.) I feel ashamed to take money from you. It makes me feel …

LA CHUNGA: A whore? You may as well get used to the idea, in case you ever work in the Casa Verde. However … Do you know what you’re going to do with your life? (MECHE is about to answer but LA CHUNGA stops her.) Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know. If you leave Piura, or stay, it’s your affair. Don’t tell me. Tonight I wanted to help you, but tomorrow everything will be different. You won’t be here and everything will have changed. If you do go, and you tell me where you’re going, and Josefino holds a knife to my throat, I’ll end up by telling him everything. I told you I didn’t want to lose the battle. And if they kill me, there’ll be no more battle to lose. So come on, make a decision and do what you think best. But above all if you leave Piura, never even for a moment consider telling me or writing to me or letting me know where you are. OK?

MECHE: Right, Chunga. Ciao, then.

LA CHUNGA: Ciao, Meche. Good luck.

(MECHE leaves the house. LA CHUNGA goes back to sit down on her rocking chair. She remains in the same position she was in when the curtain went up, at the beginning of the play. The superstuds’ voices are heard, beneath the smoke of the cigars. Long pause.)

LA CHUNGA: (Energetically) Time! Pay up and be off. I’m closing.

EL MONO: Just five more minutes, Chunga.

LA CHUNGA: Not a second more, I said. Now, be off with the lot of you. I’m tired.

LITUMA: (Getting up) I’m sleepy too. Besides, they’ve completely cleaned me out, down to the very last copper.

JOSE: Yes, let’s go — the night’s become very flat all of a sudden.

EL MONO: But first let’s sing the farewell song, superstuds.

(They sing — their voices sound flat, as at the end of a party)

We are the superstuds.

We don’t want to work.

All we need is a little bit of skirt.

Drinking, gambling, all night long,

In Chunga’s bar where we belong.

Wine, women and song –

Wine, women and song.

And now it’s time to say ‘so long’

Goodbye, Chunguita.

(They get up, make their way towards the rocking chair. LA CHUNGA gets up to take the money for the beers. They give it to her between them. LA CHUNGA goes with them as far as the door.)

JOSE: (Before crossing the threshhold, as if repeating a ritual) Tomorrow you’ll tell me what happened that time with Mechita, Chunga?

LA CHUNGA: (Closing the door in his face) Go and ask your bloody mother. She’ll tell you.

(Outside, the superstuds laugh and sing rude songs. LA CHUNGA bolts the door. She goes to put out the kerosene lamp which hangs over the table where the superstuds gamble. Sleepily she goes up to her room. It’s clear from the way she moves she is very tired. She lets herself fall on to the bed, hardly taking off her sandals.)

LA CHUNGA’S VOICE: Goodnight, Mechita. See you.