Smoko Theatre

MICROTEATRO
All rights reserved.

Sandra Gonzalez
Mom, I don’t know why I’m telling you this. Maybe it’s because you’ve always been

there for me. Yesterday I celebrated Halloween, my favorite night of the year, and once again, I was the best. Or... well, one of the best.

Mom, you know how obsessed I am with Halloween. Everything has to be perfect: the makeup, the hair, the costume... everything. Because for one night, I get to be someone else. Another woman. Someone stronger, braver, freer. A Viking warrior, a mermaid... who knows? There are so many possibilities.

The only bad thing about Halloween is the next day. No matter how many times you wash your face, once, twice, three times... you always wake up with traces of the night before. But this time, it feels different. It feels strange. It’s as if it doesn’t want to come off... as if it’s really stuck to me. I turn on the TV, not because I want to watch anything in particular, but because silence and darkness have always been my greatest fear, no matter how old I get.

Mom... did you hear that? How horrible. They found the body of a woman abandoned on the outskirts of the city. It’s heartbreaking... although these stories seem to happen more and more every day. Mom, she had reported her ex-partner several times. That means the authorities knew. Her family knew. Her friends knew. Even her coworkers knew. And still... they couldn’t save her.

They’re the kind of stories where everyone already knows how they’re going to end.

Just like Gabriel García Márquez wrote in Chronicle of a Death Foretold: “Never had a death been so well foretold.”

Mom, I think that sentence perfectly describes cases like these. I don’t know why they affect me so much. Maybe because we’ve become used to memorizing these stories.

Rosa Elvira Cely in Colombia. Ingrid Escamilla in Mexico...

Mom, come here... hurry. They’re interviewing her mother. Poor woman. Can you imagine getting a phone call telling you that your daughter’s body has been found... abandoned... lifeless?

She sounds so helpless. And now the media, and even some legal experts, are calling it an unexpected attack... a crime committed in a moment of passion... of love.

Mom... that woman is crying as if her heart has been ripped out. I can hear her screaming, “My little girl... my love... forgive me... I love you!”

And that voice... that voice...

Mom?... Mom?...

I called you too. I asked for help too. I wanted to come home too.

I’m trying to remember the lights... the music at the bar. I felt uncomfortable. I said I wanted to leave. I walked outside. I started walking faster. I kept looking over my shoulder. I wanted to call you. I kept telling myself, “Run... run... run.” I screamed it at myself. And then... everything went silent. Everything went dark.

And then I understood. They weren’t telling the story of another woman. Or another mother. It was you and me. It was our story, Mom.

You’ll hear so many things, Mom. They’ll say I didn’t act soon enough. That I didn’t ask for help. That I stayed silent. They’ll call it a femicide. I’ll become just another statistic. My name will be mentioned in a debate... and then forgotten.

But you... don’t tell them I was strong. Don’t tell them I was brave. Tell them I was scared. Tell them I asked for help. Tell them I wanted to come home. And that, even then... I never made it back.

Adolfo Olivier

Damn, it’s already 3:30 in the morning. I haven’t slept well in a row for days.

And I thought that studying a little for IELTS was going to make me sleepy, and nothing happened.

I can’t stop thinking about everything and nothing at the same time.

I didn’t even know what time Jime arrived.

We hardly see each other anymore, I don’t like that at all, but hey, with that thing about that she has to stay late to close the pub. Although it seems strange to me.

What if she hasn’t gotten into massages business. The other day she was joking about it; she told me that other girls that worked with her in the pub had gotten involved and were earning the triple...

And I don’t know, there was something in his smile that didn’t give me confidence. I already told her that this is the preamble to get into prostitution.

She just laughed, ... but I don’t know, Jime has always been fascinated by the life of the underworld, in one of those moments of weakness she got into that. Haha! (laughs), no, she’d be incapable.

(Pause) but, what if? Suddenly she has more money. I’m surprised that now she decides to buy drinks here and there, and I know that with the salary of the pub and with what he gets as a ‘nannie’ on the weekends it would not be enough for what he is spending lately... Anyway, what can I do?

Better not to find out and trust that she will do the right thing.

But I start to think, how many girls who get into the massage thing is because they are pushed into it and can’t find another option, with how expensive everything is: the rent, the groceries, the medical insurance, the transportation.

Imagine that she did get in, no... damn, it would be a shame, Jime did study hard, she’s an accountant. In Mexico she had her clients and everything, she was doing well.

But she hasn’t had it easy here either, she’s struggled to get jobs, and she just can’t finish her accounting certification. But how? she doesn’t have time left.

Alas! and what do I say, very dignified, very dignified: engineer with a master and I have had to clean up shit and vomit... cleaning worker and house demolitionist. Very dignified job the mine, isn’t it?

But it has never been for the lack of effort, nor for money.

Damn it, I don’t know how much I’ve spent on certifications and diplomas. How many ‘meetups’ and memberships of the guild, the career coach, who just bled me a fortune and was not good for a damn. Also, classes to public speaking, ... And not to mention the thousands of Job applications. And they always come out with the same general stupid feedback, when they have the decency to give me feedback: ‘You have incredible international experience, but we’re looking for someone with more experience in Australia’; As if Engineering and Maths were so different here. Fuck off!

But what can I do? there's no way to give up, you’re already in this I have to suck it up.

It’s been a lot of effort to come here just to give up!

I can only imagine what Jime has to go through; it’s always, always harder for women, to be honest. Much more, working in a pub; In the kitchen where she works there is pure misogyny. She has already told me about the sexist comments and the constant harassment. As if these bastards had no mother or sisters! I already have two between my eyes, wherever I find them I’m going to scold them and wherever I stop. (Pause)

But, what’s the point then? To do that I better stay in Mexico, ... I don’t know really, what the are we doing here? Will it really be worth it?

(Pause, change of tone)

What is most outrageous is that there are people who still have the gall to blame us for all the misery of their lives: the housing crisis, the lack of work, the increase in violence... Now it turns out that I came here to steal their jobs... you got to be fucking kidding me!

I just want to see how many of the locals are picking up the demolished rubble with me.... oh, any, right? none, I tell you, only Bangladeshi, Colombian or Nepalese...

What a paradox, isn’t it?

Of the 4 of us who work cleaning up demolitions, 3 have a university degree, and the other one breaks his back studying and paying for university.

And there this ugly redneck old woman who says: ‘Australia has to be monocultural’. She’ll be the daughter of the big whore!

You remember Brad, the one from Queensland, who told me that he was his neighbor and that this woman, Pauline Hanson, made her fortune renting apartments to Vietnamese refugees... she will be such a motherfucker!

And that’s when I ask myself, to put up with idiots like her, I’d better do in back home, to be honest. What the heck am I doing here? Really.

Always trying to over-explain myself, to justify with sweat and effort my right to be here. To prove that I am worthy. As if my human condition were not enough. I must explain everything in terms of how much I work, how much I can contribute, how much I can produce. The human condition on its own is worthless: as long as you don’t produce or demonstrate your value in terms of work or money, you’re nothing: Die in poverty, asshole, you deserve it for not working hard, for not being smart for business!

And no, it’s not that there is no compassion or noble feelings; The horrible thing is that all those emotions have to be silenced the moment they are not convenient for the economy or the business.

Oh, and they also come out with their little discourse that it is one who does not integrate, that we make our ‘ghettos’ and do not want to embrace culture. As if it were that easy.

They think that one does not have local friends for pleasure, because we are not interested.

Fuck off, I don’t know how many times I’ve tried. I don’t know how many ‘Futty’ games I’ve watched just to learn and have something to talk about. Well, didn’t I even buy my ‘magpies’ scarf and all the shit? I read all the rules and the history of

Cricket even though it shit like you have no idea. And everything, just to be able to enter the conversations, so as not to feel excluded; to try to belong and ‘blend in’.

But it’s not that easy!

But hey, after a while I realize that socializing is not easy even for the ‘aussies’...

And that’s fine, don’t tell me that it’s a lack of interest. what else can I fucking do? what else can I do? what else can I do? What else can I fucking do?

(Pause)

I think I’m going to talk to Jime seriously, I’m going to tell her that is enough, that we’d better go back and that’s it.

Look, we can save some of money, we can travel through Asia and then go back to Mexico, anyway, we’re still young, and there in Mexico you don’t die of hunger.

(Pause) Swear to God, I’ve tried everything, really. I don’t know what else to do, I don’t know what else to do.

It makes you want to talk to someone about all this, but with whom? With my mum? With my sisters? No way, they’re in their own shit, with their eternal dramas. For them I am doing it in a big time here, as long as I send them clear money. I find it more difficult to talk to them than relief.

Jime is the only one who more or less listens to me, but she also has her point of view, she has always been more pragmatic and ambitious: She says that I always overthink things... I think she’s right, I always find the beans in rice.

The truth is, there are a lot of things to feel lucky for. Overall, living here is great, and must be even better if you have the PR!

And there are good people too, and the truth is that everything is easier and safer, makes me think that it is worth it.

The truth is that I would like my children to be born and grow up here. But it is not easy at all, not easy at all.

(Pauses)

Man living here is better. Don’t give up mate, suck it up, endure, you're getting closer, look, you just pass the academic IELTS and the rest is easier, you get into the postgraduate ... You apply for as many scholarships as possible and in one of those they give it to you.

And with the scholarship, daddy, you will make it, it’s a matter of chasing it (He looks at his hanging clothes, chooses a hook that has a tailored suit, begins to dress, puts on a shirt and a blazer, and a tie, looks in the mirror and repeats constantly, encouraging himself)

Also remember man, you’ve already spoken with the head of engineering, and he already told you that as soon as he sees the opportunity he’ll put you in as a logistics assistant. Fuck, that would be super cool to start with, and for what those lazy bastards do, it’s very easy. That will give you the experience they ask for... and who knows, with luck they even give you the ‘sponsorship’.

You need to have faith! (He looks in the mirror and fixes her hair)

Oh man, you still have the style man... just look at you! after all, that demolitions thing made me strong and buffy...! (continues to look in the mirror and cheer himself up)

It will come man! It will come man!,, how the hell not, Keep up, don’t give up... cry no more, if Jime holds on, there’s no way you’ll come out as a shit... literal: to surrender to your land. It will come man! everything will pay off! You’ll see.

To bring out the Aztec soul you bastard!

Fuck, it’s already five o’clock, … (looks in the mirror) ... Soon buddy, soon (he takes off his blazer, tie and shirt and dresses in Trade’s clothes that are hanging on the other hook) ... Don’t get give up man, soon buddy, soon, your time to shine is coming. (Shouts) Jime, it’s time my queen, you’re going to be late, Up!