My Children! My Africa! Read online

  MY CHILDREN!

  MY AFRICA!

  BOOKS BY ATHOL FUGARD

  AVAILABLE FROM TCG

  Blood Knot and Other Plays

  The Captain’s Tiger: A Memoir for the Stage

  Cousins: A Memoir

  Exits and Entrances

  A Lesson from Aloes

  Marigolds in August and The Guest

  Notebooks: 1960–1977

  Playland and A Place With The Pigs

  The Road to Mecca

  Sorrows and Rejoicings

  Statements

  Valley Song

  ATHOL

  FUGARD

  MY CHILDREN!

  MY AFRICA!

  THEATRE COMMUNICATIONS GROUP

  My Children! My Africa! is copyright © 1989 by Athol Fugard

  My Children! My Africa! is published by Theatre Communications Group, Inc., 520 Eighth Ave., 24th Fl., New York, NY 10018–4156.

  All rights reserved. Except for brief passages quoted in newspaper, magazine, radio or television reviews, no part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying or recording, or by an information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  Professionals and amateurs are hereby warned that this material, being fully protected under the Copyright Laws of the United States of America and all other countries of the Berne and Universal Copyright Conventions, is subject to a royalty. All rights including, but not limited to, professional, amateur, recording, motion picture, recitation, lecturing, public reading, radio and television broadcasting, and the rights of translation into foreign languages are expressly reserved. Particular emphasis is placed on the question of readings and all uses of this book by educational institutions, permission for which must be secured from the author’s representative: William Morris Agency, 1325 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10019; (212) 586–5100.

  This publication is made possible in part with public funds from the New York State Council on the Arts, a State Agency.

  TCG books are exclusively distributed to the book trade by Consortium Book Sales and Distribution.

  Cover: John Kani in the New York Theatre Workshop production of My Children! My Africa! Frontis: Courtney Vance and Lisa Fugard. All photographs copyright 1989 by Gerry Goodstein.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Fugard, Athol.

  My children! My Africa! / by Athol Fugard.

  I. Title.

  PR9639.3F8M9 1990 90-11252

  822—dc20 CIP

  Design and composition by The Sarabande Press

  First Edition, October 1990

  Ninth Printing, October 2010

  eISBN 978-1-55936-691-5

  For Lisa and John

  My Children! My Africa! was first presented in the United States by the New York Theatre Workshop on December 18, 1989, under the direction of the playwright. Set and costume design was by Susan Hilferty, lighting design by Dennis Parichy, and sound design by Mark Bennett. The cast was as follows:

  Mr. M (Anela Myalatya) John Kani

  Isabel Dyson Lisa Fugard

  Thami Mbikwana Courtney B. Vance

  The play was originally produced by The Market Theatre, Johannesburg, June 1989.

  MY CHILDREN!

  MY AFRICA!

  CHARACTERS

  MR. M (ANELA MYALATYA)

  ISABEL DYSON

  THAMI MBIKWANA

  TIME AND PLACE

  The action takes place in a small Eastern Cape Karoo town in the autumn of 1984.

  Contents

  ACT ONE

  SCENE 1

  SCENE 2

  SCENE 3

  SCENE 4

  SCENE 5

  SCENE 6

  ACT TWO

  SCENE 1

  SCENE 2

  SCENE 3

  SCENE 4

  SCENE 5

  ACT

  ONE

  SCENE 1

  Classroom of the Zolile High School. Mr. M is at a table with Thami and Isabel on either side of him. A lively interschool debate is in progress. Everybody is speaking at the same time.

  MR. M: Order please!

  ISABEL: I never said anything of the kind.

  THAMI : Yes you did. You said that women were more—

  MR. M: I call you both to order!

  ISABEL: What I said was that women—

  THAMI : —were more emotional than men—

  ISABEL: Correction! That women were more intuitive than men—

  MR. M: Miss Dyson and Mr. Mbikwana! Will you both please—

  ISABEL: You are twisting my words and misquoting me.

  THAMI : I am not. I am simply asking you—

  MR. M: Come to order!

  Grabs the school bell and rings it violently. This works. Silence.

  I think it is necessary for me to remind all of you exactly what a debate is supposed to be.

  (Opens and reads from a little black dictionary that is at hand on the table) My dictionary defines it as follows: “The orderly and regulated discussion of an issue with opposing viewpoints receiving equal time and consideration.”

  Shouting down the opposition so that they cannot be heard does not comply with that definition.

  Enthusiasm for your cause is most commendable but without personal discipline it is as useless as having a good donkey and a good cart but no harness.

  We are now running out of time. I am therefore closing the open section of our debate. No more interruptions from the floor please. We’ll bring our proceedings to a close with a brief, I repeat brief, three minutes at the most, summing up of our arguments.

  Starting with the proposers of the motion: Mr. Thami Mbikwana of the Zolile High School, will you please make your concluding statement.

  Thami stands up. Wild round of applause from the audience. He is secure and at ease. He is speaking to an audience of schoolmates. His “concluding statement” is outrageous and he knows it and enjoys it.

  THAMI: I don’t stand here now and speak to you as your friend and schoolmate. That would lessen the seriousness of my words to you. No! Close your eyes, forget that you know my face and voice, forget that you know anything about Thami Mbikwana. Think of me rather as an oracle, of my words as those of the great ancestors of our traditional African culture, which we turn our back on and desert to our great peril!

  The opposition has spoken about sexual exploitation and the need for women’s liberation. Brothers and sisters these are foreign ideas. Do not listen to them. They come from a culture, the so-called Western Civilization, that has meant only misery to Africa and its people. It is the same culture that shipped away thousands of our ancestors as slaves, the same culture that has exploited Africa with the greed of a vulture during the period of Colonialism and the same culture which continues to exploit us in the twentieth century under the disguise of concern for our future.

  The opposition has not been able to refute my claim that women cannot do the same jobs as men because they are not the equals of us physically and that a woman’s role in the family, in society is totally different to that of a man’s. These facts taken together reinforce what our fathers, and our grandfathers and our great-grandfathers knew; namely that happiness and prosperity for the tribe and the nation is achieved when education of the little ladies takes these facts into consideration. Would it be right for a woman to go to war while the man sits at the sewing machine? I do not have milk in my breasts to feed the baby while my wife is out digging up roads for the Divisional Council.

  Wild laughter.

  Brothers and sisters, it is obvious that you feel the same as I do about this most serious matter. I hope th
at at the end of this debate, your vote will reflect your agreement with me.

  Wild applause and whistles.

  MR. M: Thank you Mr. Mbikwana.

  Thami sits.

  And now finally, a last statement from the captain of the visiting team, Miss Isabel Dyson of Camdeboo Girls High.

  Polite applause. Isabel stands. She takes on the audience with direct unflinching eye contact. She is determined not to be intimidated.

  ISABEL: You have had to listen to a lot of talk this afternoon about traditional values, traditional society, your great ancestors, your glorious past. In spite of what has been implied I want to start off by telling you that I have as much respect and admiration for your history and tradition as anybody else. I believe most strongly that there are values and principles in traditional African society which could be studied with great profit by the Western Civilization so scornfully rejected by the previous speaker. But at the same time, I know, and you know, that Africa no longer lives in that past. For better or for worse it is part now of the twentieth century and all the nations on this continent are struggling very hard to come to terms with that reality. Arguments about sacred traditional values, the traditional way of life et cetera and et cetera, are used by those who would like to hold back Africa’s progress and keep it locked up in the past.

  Maybe there was a time in the past when a woman’s life consisted of bearing children and hoeing the fields while men sharpened their spears and sat around waiting for another war to start. But it is a silly argument that relies on that old image of primitive Africa for its strength. It is an argument that insults your intelligence. Times have changed. Sheer brute strength is not the determining factor anymore. You do not need the muscles of a prize fighter when you sit down to operate the computers that control today’s world. The American space program now has women astronauts on board the space shuttles doing the same jobs as men. As for the difference in the emotional and intellectual qualities of men and women, remember that it is a question of difference and not inferiority and that with those differences go strengths which compensate for weaknesses in the opposite sex.

  And lastly, a word of warning. The argument against equality for women, in education or any other field, based on alleged “differences” between the two sexes, is an argument that can very easily be used against any other “different” group. It is an argument based on prejudice, not fact. I ask you not to give it your support. Thank you.

  She sits. Polite applause.

  MR. M: Thank you Miss Dyson. We come now to the vote. But before we do that, a word of caution. We have had a wonderful experience this afternoon. Don’t let it end on a frivolous and irresponsible note. Serious issues have been debated. Vote accordingly. To borrow a phrase from Mr. Mbikwana, forget the faces, remember the words. If you believe that we have the right to vote out there in the big world, then show here, in the classroom, that you know how to use it.

  We’ll take it on a count of hands, and for the benefit of any over-enthusiastic supporters, only one hand per person please. Let me read the proposal once again: “That in view of the essential physical and psychological differences between men and women, there should be correspondingly different educational syllabuses for the two sexes.”

  All those in favor raise a hand.

  Mr. M, Thami and Isabel count hands.

  Seventeen?

  Thami and Isabel nod agreement.

  All those against.

  They all count again.

  Twenty-four?

  Reactions from Thami and Isabel.

  The proposal is defeated by twenty-four votes to seventeen. Before we break just a reminder about the special choir practice this afternoon. Members of the choir must please join Mrs. Magada in Number Two Classroom after school. (To Isabel and Thami) Allow me to offer you my congratulations Miss Dyson on a most well-deserved victory. What do you say Mbikwana?

  THAMI (To Isabel): Your concluding statement was a knockout.

  MR. M: You didn’t do too badly yourself.

  ISABEL: You made me so angry!

  THAMI (All innocence): I did?

  ISABEL: Ja you did. (Thami laughs) I was beginning to think you actually believed what you were saying.

  THAMI: But I do!

  ISABEL: Oh, come on . . .!

  MR. M (Rubbing his hands with pleasure): All I can say is . . . Splendid! Splendid! Splendid! The intellect in action. Challenge and response. That is what a good debate is all about. And whatever you do young lady, don’t underestimate your achievement in winning the popular vote. It wasn’t easy for that audience to vote against Mbikwana. He’s one of them, and a very popular “one of them” I might add. (Waving a finger at Thami) You were quite shameless in the way you tried to exploit that loyalty.

  THAMI (Another laugh): Was that wrong?

  MR. M: No. AS the saying goes, all is fair in love, war and debating. But the fact that you didn’t succeed is what makes me really happy. I am very proud of our audience. In my humble opinion they are the real winners this afternoon. You two just had to talk and argue. Anybody can do that. They had to listen . . . intelligently!

  ISABEL: They certainly gave me a good time.

  MR. M: That was very apparent, if I may say so Miss Dyson. I can’t thank you enough for coming to us today. I sincerely hope there’ll be another occasion.

  ISABEL: Same here.

  MR. M: Good! (Consults his watch) Now you must excuse me. There is a staff meeting waiting for me. Will you look after Miss Dyson please Mbikwana?

  THAMI: Yes teacher.

  Mr. M leaves. Isabel and Thami pack away into their bookbags the papers and books they used in the debate. Without the mediating presence of Mr. M they are both a little self-conscious. First moves in the ensuing conversation are awkward.

  ISABEL: I wish we had a teacher like . . . Mr. . . . (Pronouncing the name carefully) M-ya-lat-ya. Did I say it right?

  THAMI: Yes you did, but nobody calls him that. He’s just plain Mr. M to everybody.

  ISABEL: Mr. M.

  THAMI: That’s right.

  ISABEL: Well I think he’s wonderful.

  THAMI: He’s okay.

  ISABEL: I had a geography teacher in Standard Seven who was a little bit like him. Full of fun and lots of energy.

  THAMI: Ja, that’s Mr. M all right.

  Pause.

  ISABEL: I meant what I said to him. I really did have a good time.

  THAMI: Same here.

  ISABEL: You did? Because to be honest with you, I wasn’t expecting it.

  THAMI: Me neither.

  ISABEL: No?

  THAMI: Nope.

  ISABEL: Why not?

  THAMI (Embarrassed): Well . . . you know . . .

  ISABEL: Let me guess. You’ve never debated with girls before.

  He nods, smiling sheepishly.

  And white girls at that! I don’t believe it. You boys are all the same.

  THAMI: But you were good!

  ISABEL: Because I happen to feel very strongly about what we were debating. But it was also the whole atmosphere you know. It was so . . . so free and easy. The debates at my school are such stuffy affairs. And so boring most of the time. Everything is done according to the rules with everybody being polite and nobody getting excited . . . lots of discipline but very little enthusiasm. This one was a riot!

  THAMI (Finger to his lips): Be careful.

  ISABEL: Of what?

  THAMI: That word.

  ISABEL: Which one?

  THAMI: Riot! Don’t say it in a black township. Police start shooting as soon as they hear it.

  ISABEL: Oh. I’m sorry.

  THAMI (Having a good laugh): It’s a joke Isabel.

  ISABEL: Oh . . . you caught me off guard. I didn’t think you would joke about those things.

  THAMI: Riots and police? Oh yes, we joke about them. We joke about everything.

  ISABEL: Okay, then I’ll say it again: this afternoon was a riot.

  THAMI: Good! Try that
one on your folks when you get home tonight. Say the newspapers have got it all wrong. You had a wonderful time taking part in a little township riot.

  This time Isabel does get the joke. A good laugh.

  ISABEL: Oh ja, I can just see my mom and dad cracking up at that one.

  THAMI: They wouldn’t think it was funny? (The idea of whites reacting to township humor amuses him enormously)

  ISABEL: Are you kidding? They even take the Marx Brothers seriously. I can just hear my mom: “Isabel, I think it is very wrong to joke about those things!”

  THAMI: Dyson! That’s an English name.

  ISABEL: Sober, sensible, English-speaking South African. I’m the third generation.

  THAMI: What does your dad do?

  ISABEL: He’s a chemist. The chemist shop in town. Karoo Pharmacy. That’s ours. My mother and sister work in it as well, and on Saturdays, provided there isn’t a hockey match, so do I.

  THAMI: Any brothers?

  ISABEL: No. Just the four of us.

  THAMI: A happy family.

  ISABEL: Ja, I suppose you could call us that. Mind you, Lucille would say it would be a lot happier if only her little sister would be, as she puts it, “more accommodating of others.”

  THAMI: What does she mean?

  ISABEL: She means she doesn’t like the fact that I’ve got opinions of my own. I’m the rebel in the family.

  THAMI: That sounds interesting.

  ISABEL: I can’t help it. Whenever it’s time for a family indaba . . . you know, when we sit down in the living room to discuss family business and things . . . I just always seem to end up disagreeing with everybody and wanting to do things differently.

  But other than that, ja, an average sort of happy family. What else do you want to know. Go ahead, anything . . . provided I also get a turn to ask questions.

  Thami studies her.

  Eighteen years old. I think I want to be a writer. My favorite subject is English and my favorite sport, as you might have guessed, is hockey. Anything else?