My father arrived in a box
GOODBYE ALICE (PART TWO)
[...]
Evening. SILUMKO sits at the kitchen table. On the table, the yellow envelope. He frowns at a piece of paper, then slides it back into the envelope.
A tupperware slides across the table towards him. He catches it before it slides off the table.
SILUMKO: Andizokwazi mama uyithatha! [I'm not taking that, mama.] (to the audience) She's trying to give me a tupperware!
MAMA: Yes, you are taking it. What are you going to eat on the way? Do you know how long this trip is?
SILU, Yes, mama, I know.
MAMA: You know? The furthest you've ever been is to East London. KuseRhawtini ke apha. [This is Johannesburg.]
SISTERS: Ja, this is Johannesburg!
MAMA: Mantombazana khanithule! [Girls, quiet!] But they are right. This is Johannesburg. The other side of the country. Thatha la Tupperware. [Take the tupperware.]
[...]
SCENE 4: GOODBYE, ALICE REDUX
Scene 1 happens again, sped up. Lights drop to black. A candle is lit. SILUMKO kneels.
MAMA: Silumko!
Car horn blares and the car peels off. SILUMKO runs and jumps up, lifted by the chorus, onto the back of the bakkie. He sits back, catching his breath.
CHORUS B: Uyazazi apho uya khona? [You know where you are going?]
SILUMKO: eRhawtini. [Johannesburg].
CHORUS B: Yes man, but the address, what address are you going to?
SILUMKO: Oh.
SILUMKO takes a slip of paper out of his pocket and hands it to the CHORUS.
CHORUS A: Lie back, we have a long drive ahead of us.
SILUMKO: At least there’s a mattress.
The CHORUS slides a mattress under SILUMKO. He lies back on it.
CHORUS: His father must have known this road well. He did this journey twice, sometimes three times a year, coming home from Joburg for a visit / Bringing plastics: clothes, batteries, a cellphone / Then, after a while, back to the city to work.
CHORUS C: Then, for the last time, his father did this journey in reverse.
CHORUS B: Meaning?
CHORUS C: Not his father. His father’s body. Transported all the way from Charlotte Maxeke hospital in Joburg to rest with the ancestors at home.
SILUMKO: (half dreaming): My father arrived in a box at sunrise. At sunrise, my father arrived in a box. A sunrise arrived in my father with a box. A box arrived with my father in a sunrise. (beat) Let me try that again. My father’s body arrived in a box at sunrise. My father’s body arrived in a box in a Toyota Quantum with airconditioning and four body compartments at sunrise.
SILUMKO lies back on the mattress and falls asleep.
[...]
Evening. SILUMKO sits at the kitchen table. On the table, the yellow envelope. He frowns at a piece of paper, then slides it back into the envelope.
A tupperware slides across the table towards him. He catches it before it slides off the table.
SILUMKO: Andizokwazi mama uyithatha! [I'm not taking that, mama.] (to the audience) She's trying to give me a tupperware!
MAMA: Yes, you are taking it. What are you going to eat on the way? Do you know how long this trip is?
SILU, Yes, mama, I know.
MAMA: You know? The furthest you've ever been is to East London. KuseRhawtini ke apha. [This is Johannesburg.]
SISTERS: Ja, this is Johannesburg!
MAMA: Mantombazana khanithule! [Girls, quiet!] But they are right. This is Johannesburg. The other side of the country. Thatha la Tupperware. [Take the tupperware.]
[...]
SCENE 4: GOODBYE, ALICE REDUX
Scene 1 happens again, sped up. Lights drop to black. A candle is lit. SILUMKO kneels.
MAMA: Silumko!
Car horn blares and the car peels off. SILUMKO runs and jumps up, lifted by the chorus, onto the back of the bakkie. He sits back, catching his breath.
CHORUS B: Uyazazi apho uya khona? [You know where you are going?]
SILUMKO: eRhawtini. [Johannesburg].
CHORUS B: Yes man, but the address, what address are you going to?
SILUMKO: Oh.
SILUMKO takes a slip of paper out of his pocket and hands it to the CHORUS.
CHORUS A: Lie back, we have a long drive ahead of us.
SILUMKO: At least there’s a mattress.
The CHORUS slides a mattress under SILUMKO. He lies back on it.
CHORUS: His father must have known this road well. He did this journey twice, sometimes three times a year, coming home from Joburg for a visit / Bringing plastics: clothes, batteries, a cellphone / Then, after a while, back to the city to work.
CHORUS C: Then, for the last time, his father did this journey in reverse.
CHORUS B: Meaning?
CHORUS C: Not his father. His father’s body. Transported all the way from Charlotte Maxeke hospital in Joburg to rest with the ancestors at home.
SILUMKO: (half dreaming): My father arrived in a box at sunrise. At sunrise, my father arrived in a box. A sunrise arrived in my father with a box. A box arrived with my father in a sunrise. (beat) Let me try that again. My father’s body arrived in a box at sunrise. My father’s body arrived in a box in a Toyota Quantum with airconditioning and four body compartments at sunrise.
SILUMKO lies back on the mattress and falls asleep.
