It’s estimated there are 230 million girls and women in the world today who have suffered female genital mutilation.
When I was lucky enough to translate this amazingly powerful play in 2000 I think I maybe hoped that this horrible practice was in decline.
But these figures recently released by UNICEF, the UN Children’s Agency, reveal an increase of 15% over the last eight years.
And girl children as young as 5 are being cut.
There seems to be no limit to the cruelty of the atrocities being committed, then and now, in the continuing war against women.
This play is an urgent, compassionate and rage-filled report from the front line.
I’ll publish it in instalments: scene by scene.
It’s set in one of the notorious bandies on the outskirts of Paris. I’ve illustrated it with a photo I took yesterday round the corner in Leith.
I’m using it as a gentle reminder that the events the play describes do not just happen ‘over there’.
They happen here and everywhere.
BINTOU
by
Koffi Kwahulé
translated by
John Clifford
(performance script)
translation © John Clifford 2000
All rights whatsoever in this play are strictly reserved and application for performance etc. should be made before rehearsals to Alan Brodie Representation Ltd, Barbon Buildings, 14 Red Lion Square, London, WC1R 4QH. No performance may be given unless a licence has been obtained.
‘I never used to make any plans
because I didn’t know there was a future’ - Lamar Murphy, boxer
Characters:
Bintou
Chorus (3 teenage girls)
Bintou’s Mother
Aunt Rokia
Uncle Drissa
Blackout
Manu
Kelkhal
P’tit Jean
P’tit Jean’s Mother
Moussoba
Assassino
Terminator
Nenesse [a man who runs a bar]
This translation was given a rehearsed reading at the Royal Court Theatre, London, on
8th June 2000, with the following cast:
Bintou Nadine Marshall
Chorus (3 teenage girls) Natasha Gordon
Bintou’s Mother Joy Richardson
Aunt Rokia Martina Laird
Uncle Drissa Jude Akuwudike
Blackout Annobil-Dodoo
Manu Danny Dyer
Kelkhal Imran Ali
P’tit Jean Fraser Ayres
P’tit Jean’s Mother Leda Hodgson
Moussoba Joy Elias-Rilwan
Assassino Jake Marshall
Terminator Leroy Liburd
Nenesse [a man who runs a bar] Daniel Cerqueira
Directed by Dawn Walton
temptation
The poor living room of a family of black African immigrants.
Uncle Drissa, his wife Rokia, and Bintou’s Mother are clearly watching out for
someone coming.
Bintou enters preceded by the Chorus. It is made up of three adolescent girls,
carrying a mirror and a make-up box.
Bintou crosses the room without paying the slightest attention to her family.
Mother: Bintou!
Bintou stops. Time stands still.
Chorus: Bintou Bintou Bintou
Small savage flower
growing on cold concrete
of a part of town not even the pigs
dare enter
Bintou
full of hatred
full of love
Bintou
Bintou Bintou
Bintou the gang leader
Bintou slum amazon
the town I hated
the school I hated
the law of the father I hated
Bintou
Bintou Bintou
Bintou only loved three things in the world
she loved her gang
that her aunt called the “Lycaons”
she loved her body
her belly that she could turn in a perfect circle
she loved her knife
the knife Manu gave her
her boyfriend Manu who only saw through Bintou’s eyes
who only heard through Bintou’s ears
who only breathed through Bintou’s lungs
Bintou
Bintou Bintou
Bintou who was “good for nothing”
as her mother said
Bintou who was “a blasphemer”
as her uncle said
Bintou “the whore”
as her aunt said
But I still had a dream
a dream in which I could handle everything
And for hours on end
And for days on end
I shut myself away to train
to practise once to practise again
all the steps and the sashays
far far beyond the farthest reach
of weariness and exhaustion
Bintou ended up dancing like a goddess
and her boyfriend
called her Samiagamal
But it’s now the family comes
It’s now the time of the shadow of the woman of the knife
It’s now the time of the big decisions
and Bintou is just thirteen
Bintou: What is it now mum
Mother: You know that your father-
Bintou: I told you not to mention that scum
Mother: That’s not how you talk about your father
Bintou: It’s how I do.
Mother: Where are you going?
Bintou: Out
Aunt: Where?
Bintou: What’s it got to do with you?
You coming or something?
Uncle: Who you going to meet?
Bintou: You should watch what you say, uncle Drissa. You might give yourself away. Auntie Rokia might end up guessing what you’re up to
Aunt: Little witch. Keep my name out of your filthy blasphemous mouth.
Bintou: The witch, Aunt Rokia, is you. And it’s not up to you to tell Bintou to keep out of anything. Bintou goes where she wants and she comes when she wants. Not when you want her too, you poor blind bat.
Mother: Bintou!
Aunt: You’re lucky you’re not my daughter. Or I’d have beaten the evil out of you a long time ago..
Bintou: If your little finger touches a hair of Bintou’s head, then my Lycaons, as you call them, will come and pull you by the hair right out into the street and tear off all your clothes so everyone can see that what you hide under your skirts is the mouth of a bitch
Mother: Bintou! If your father hears you...
Bintou: My father does hear me. He spends his days with his ear glued to the door listening to everything we say. Oh yes, he hears me. (She shouts in the direction of the bedroom). Only he doesn’t dare lift his arse off his chair. he doesn’t dare come out the bedroom to tell me what is to be done and what is not to be done. It’s so easy to play dead.... so much easier to stay stuck in there like an old cow chewing the cud like an old cow, chewing over and over again the disgrace of losing his job and the shame of being unemployed.. .. instead of coming out to kick life in the arse. (to the aunt and uncle) What do you want, you? Cause I know, I know perfectly well, you got something nasty up your sleeves. Cause otherwise you wouldn’t be arsed to spend every day for a whole month with my mother. Whispering, conspiring, muttering under your foul breath. So tell me what’s going on inside your fetid brains? What is it? Spit it out and get it over with.
Uncle: You’re grounded Bintou. You’ve said more than enough. Go back to your room.
Bintou: And I bet you would love to come in with me.
Uncle: I forbid you to speak to me like that! I am not your mother, I am not your aunt. No-one speaks to me like that. Not even your father.
Bintou: I am not my father
Uncle :You are going to get hit and you’ll have deserved it
Bintou (full of double meanings): If I were you, uncle Drissa.I wouldn’t take it so to heart.
Uncle: You’re not going out today. That’s settled.
Bintou: That’s settled, that’s settled .... you never used to be so strict, uncle Drissa. You used to be nicer. Like last time, for instance, when you came into my room just as I was about to go out....
The lighting picks out a space where Bintou is alone. The Chorus joins her
there. One of the girls holds up a mirror while the two others help her with her
make-up. The Uncle steps forward to the edge of the circle of light. The mother
and aunt watch the scene.
Uncle: Bintou. Are you there?
Bintou: The door’s open. Come in if you like.
(He comes in. Bintou, busy getting ready, turns her back on him)
Uncle: You getting ready?
Bintou Very perceptive.
Uncle: Have you found a lover?... What’s he like? Two and two don’t make five, Bintou. I have eyes in my head. And I can see you. With the whole town getting ready to celebrate the Festival and you have a boy breaking his heart over you... I know you’re still not old enough, but still... Even when the whole universe sleeps and Allah the Compassionate condescends to close his eyes to rest from the magnificence of his creation, there’s still one creature with his eyes wide open... But these days, death watches over the embrace of lovers and before welcoming the old, death takes pleasure in mowing down the young.... I hope you’re not up to any foolishness? In that dress that hardly covers you at all...Must you leave your belly bare?.... You know there are sick people in this part of town. A beautiful flower in bud passing by, with her belly exposed to every passer by, that can only give people ideas... Because people have all kinds of nastiness in their head... you can tell from how they look...
Bintou: I know, uncle Drissa. I know from how you look.
Uncle: Me?
Bintou: When I looked at myself in the mirror, I knew that you had looked at me first. I’ve felt your eyes groping about in the space between my skin and that “dress that hardly covers me at all”. I have felt your eyes passing down my body, down over each vertebra of my spine, down like a line of red ants, slipping into the crack of my buttocks and slipping down, down all along my legs to my ankles. Now stop, uncle Drissa. Stop. Stop because your eyes would like to be drinking mine. But that’s not possible, uncle Drissa, but you’ve dreamed, uncle Drissa, you’ve dreamed that it was. And look at your eyes. Jumping in and out my arse like an octopus. And now they’re beginning to suck, to suck like little bees, as if you’ve got your snout sucking at the damp crest of my secret place before climbing up onto the plateau of my belly, and up again to lick the soft curves of my breasts under this “dress that hardly covers my body”
Uncle: Bintou, you are possessed by sin.
Bintou: No uncle Drissa. It is you. You who are possessed by sin. Did I come into your room to tell you your dress hardly covered your body that you were showing your navel to the world and that consequently you could attract the look of sick women?
Uncle: Bintou when did you stop being a child?
Bintou: Who says I have stopped being a child?
Uncle: Whether you have or not, take care of yourself, Bintou. You have so much beauty in you. Don’t destroy yourself.
Bintou: Can I ask you something, uncle... How come you’re so nice to me when we’re alone together and yet are so hard and so horrible to me when you’re with mum and auntie Rokia? How come uncle? Tell me?
Uncle: Because it’s not with the same heart that you splash in the blood of battles...as you do when you slide into the hollow of love. Bintou, I must go now, Rokia will be angry. As for you, you take care of yourself, and start by wearing a bra.
Bintou: How you know I’m not wearing one?
Uncle: I can guess. (He approaches Bintou, who still has her back to him, concentrating on getting herself ready. As he speaks he will draw with his finger on Bintou’s back) In the street, I like to watch women to guess who’s wearing one and who isn’t. You can tell from looking at their blouses. Women with a bra, you can see on their back, there, down the line of the shoulder-blades, two vertical lines, like streams that will lose themselves in the river of the horizontal band. From the front, it’s much easier to guess those who aren’t wearing one because their breasts look more playful... When you were little you never wanted to wear panties, but now you’re...
Bintou: Uncle Drissa, time to join Auntie Rokia
Uncle: How can I be content to breathe the smoke now I have discovered the flame? ...Is it true what they say, that you can dance the dance of Arab women?
Bintou: Can you guess what I’m thinking, uncle Drissa?
Uncle: Bintou, the chameleon can take on any colour except the colour of a woman’s thought.
Bintou: Uncle Drissa I can see the thought in your head. It goes zig, zag, back and forth up and down like a ball in a pinball machine. And you so want Bintou to help you make it stop, don’t you? (He slides his hand onto Bintou’s buttocks. She turns round quickly: she holds an open flick-knife. For the first time, they are face to face. She speaks hard and firm) Touch me there again, uncle Drissa, and I will cut you open like a pig in a slaughterhouse. Now out of here!
Uncle: I just wanted to see if you were wearing...
Bintou: Out!
(The Uncle leaves the circle of light. Bintou closes the blade. The light enlarges
while the Chorus take their place as at the beginning)
Aunt: Blasphemer. Always and for ever the blasphemer.
Mother: Liar. I know she’s a liar, I know her, she’s my daughter.
Bintou: I don’t lie.
Aunt: The sparrow hawk is not born from a carp.
Mother: I have always been a good mother, I’ve done all I could, all I could...Bintou, for the sake of your father, and for my sake, for your mother’s sake, please apologise to your uncle.
Bintou: What I said was true.
Aunt: How can it be true, depraved girl? Each word which crosses the threshold of your lips turns itself irremediably into a lie. You snake, how can you ever speak the truth?
Mother: Don’t reply to her, Bintou, I beg you, don’t answer back, she’s your uncle’s wife...
Bintou: Mother, don’t even try to talk to them. Let the snakes hiss among themselves. I will deal with them. The reptiles.... Poor Auntie Rokia! All I have to do is this (She clicks her fingers) and I can make Uncle Drissa kiss my feet.
Aunt: Everywhere you cast your snares, Bintou, and at your age, too. Everyone knows this. ..And so you want a war, a real war. A war between women. Well, I am ready. I even leave the choice of weapons up to you.
Bintou: I am ready for war.... providing the stakes are high enough. (The uncle comes up to Bintou, clearly intending to strike her; but he stops in front of her, without daring to touch her) So now you’re playing at being the outraged husband? Rushing in to protect your wife? Go on then, hit me! Show us you’re a real man, a real man who’s not going to be browbeaten by a woman, still less by a little girl! What are you waiting for?.... It’s truth, uncle Drissa, the truth that holds back your hand.
Mother: Drissa, in the name of the Merciful God, forgive this girl who is no more than a child. I beg you, just this once Drissa, let her go. Just this once, for the last time...
Uncle: Let her at least change her dress. I cannot bear to think of her going god knows where wearing...
Bintou: That dress which hardly covers her body, and maybe even without panties on! Do you really want me to wear a muzzle? Tonight, when you try to sleep next to your wife’s cold body, try to guess what it’s like beneath Bintou’s skirt.
Mother: Oh God, take pity on her, she’s only a child.
Bintou: Mother, I am leaving. I’ll come back to see you every now and again. As for them, if I find them here, let them never speak to me again. Let them know I will never reply to them, I will never even honour them with an insult. One last thing, mother: if ever I need to ask forgiveness, I’ll not ask it of God. I’ll ask it of you!
(She exits, followed by the chorus)
Aunt: Heresy!! This time we’re dealing with full blown heresy! A girl who’s barely pubescent but whose mouth is full of the words of grown men! That can only be caused by witchcraft..I blame her father. To lose your job does not justify losing your authority over your wicked child. Even if impotent, the penis still must piss. .. Talking to her is a waste of time: blasphemy can only give birth to more blasphemy.
Mother: You have to learn to make your mouth round before you can whistle. Rokia you go too far. In some ways you’re still a child: but you want to give lessons in education.
Aunt: God has not judged it useful to give me the joy of being a mother....
Mother :What you mean is he has not judged you worthy
Uncle: Be quiet both of you! We are running out of time. There is no doubt now: Bintou has a sickness in her soul. But she is young. A young tree can still be made to grow straight. What we must now do is what we have agreed must be done, because that is the only way in which she can be saved. She is your daughter, so it is up to you to convince her that she should go back to spend one or two months back home, to see...Tell her that it’s for holidays when... I don’t know what. Make up something, it doesn’t matter what.
Mother: But what if... you know Bintou.
Aunt: If she refuses., we will do what is necessary here. I will make it my business. I know Moussouba, a woman who is as discreet as a cat with shit...
Mother: all right. I’ll speak to her of the journey. Right now you must excuse me, I must go in. My nerves are worn out with weariness. (She exits)
Aunt: The look cannot prove the eye wrong, Drissa. Now we are alone, can I ask you a question.
Uncle: when we get home. Then we will talk about whatever you like
Aunt: No, I beg you. Now. I have to speak now. Afterwards I won’t be able to.
Uncle:Allright, speak.
Aunt: So why just then did you allow Bintou....
Uncle: Be quiet! The Bintou affair is dealt with!
Aunt: Drissa, you bury a corpse. You do not bury an affair. Why did you allow that girl to talk to me as if she had all of a sudden become my rival?
Uncle: And why did you allow that girl to speak to you as if she was your rival?
Aunt: So it’s me who’s at fault?
Uncle: Don’t raise your voice to me Rokia! I’m warning you Don’t raise your voice to me!
Aunt: This is the last time I raise my voice, Drissa. But I want to know, and I am not raising my voice, I want to know why when that depraved girl insulted me, when she even spoke of what lies under my skirt, why did you say nothing? After all, she’s your niece... Don't you want to answer me? Can you ate least reply to this: when she accuses you of that which cannot be thought of does she speak the truth?
Uncle: Bintou lies. She only lies. If she speaks like an adult, she lies like an adult too. Her aim is to create disorder, to undermine the foundations of our mutual trust, which are like granite, and replace them withe shifting sands of doubt. That is all that I wish to say to you, and I ask you to be satisfied. Besides, it is the truth.
Aunt: But still - and still I am talking without raising my voice - I still don’t understand how your own words, these words which I would recognise among all other words spoken on the earth.. how these proverbs that you so tirelessly like to repeat how they could have started to so spontaneously come out of her mouth too? I know Bintou already speaks like an adult, but I also know she never used to speak in proverbs.... I am stating this in a calm voice, Drissa: I cannot be satisfied with your reply.
Uncle: I repeat with a clean mouth: Bintou lies and I speak the truth. (He begins to leave)
Aunt: Drissa, whether you speak the truth or not, you alone know... but if you lie, you know that too. And you know you will pay for it.
(he leaves. Black)