The Most Excellent and Lamentable Tragedy
of Ignatius Mumbeli or, The Suitcase
by
Mimnermus
| Ignatius Mumbeli, an unknown soldier | Erastus Pohamba |
| Kosmos Indongo, a famous elder statesman | Obadiah Horaseb |
| Izelda Indongo, Indongo’s wife | Antoinette Horaseb |
| Paradise Gowab, a seamstress | Mavala Shikongo |
| Boer Policeman Number 1, bearded | Larry Kaplansk |
| Boer Policeman Number 2, beardless | Larry Kaplansk |
| Boer Policeman Number 3, bald | Larry Kaplansk |
| Auntie Wilhelmina | Auntie Wilhelmina |
| Festus Festus Galli, U.N. Secretary General | Festus Uises |
| Suitcase | Courtesy of Mavala Shikongo |
| Platoon of Blue Helmets | Boys of Standard Seven |
| Gunfire Sound Effects | Boys of Standard Six |
| Refreshment Specialist/Spiritual Advisor | Vilho Kakuritjire |
| Set Design | Theofilus !Nowases |
| Lighting | Theofilus !Nowases |
| Box Office | Theofilus !Nowases |
| Costumes | Theofilus !Nowases |
| First Grip | Theofilus !Nowases |
| Second Grip | Theofilus !Nowases |
| Dramaturge | Theofilus !Nowases |
The Players would like to thank the following sponsors:
Desconde Motors, Schmidsdorf Meats and Poultry, and the Kingdom of Sweden
SCENE 1: The bedsheet rises on the cramped kitchen of a typical location house in the Ovambo section of Katatura location, Windhoek. A battered kitchen table, a battered cupboard, a battered kettle on the stove. If possible, a cockroach should scramble back and forth across the table during the scene. If no cockroaches are available (when are they around when you need them?), a drawing of a cockroach in motion will suffice. KOSMOS INDONGO in an elegant white suit and Panama hat. His beautiful wife, in a simple frock, tends to the kettle. Throughout the scene she gazes lovingly at her husband. There is a sharp rap on the door.
INDONGO: Entrez.
MUMBELI (offstage): Sir?
INDONGO: I said, Entrez. It’s French for entrez. Entrez!
The door opens hesitantly.
MUMBELI (dressed in the simple blue jumper of a railway worker): Good evening, sir. (He nods to IZELDA, who is gazing lovingly at her husband.)
INDONGO (a man of action bored by pleasantries): So, my man, you wish to join the struggle?
MUMBELI: I do, sir.
INDONGO: Very dangerous.
MUMBELI: I accept the dangers. Every night I dream —
INDONGO (whaps the cockroach): In dreams begin lies, my son.
MUMBELI: Excuse?
INDONGO: I have dreamed away decades. Not the years, but the dreams that age us. It’s odd. They seem so harmless in the morning. (IZELDAgazes lovingly at her husband.) Who are you, my son?
MUMBELI: I am Ignatius Mumbeli.
INDONGO: May your name be remembered.
MUMBELI: It is not my name that’s important. It is my country.
INDONGO (smiles): Well spoken. I too have waited long enough. Across two world wars. Two colonial powers. Two international organizations. Countless useless toothless resolutions. The rulings of the World Court. Whose court is the World Court? Are we not part of the world? I misplaced my faith. (He takes a gun from his pocket and sets it on the table.) And yet you think I am in love with the gun of this, the first act?
MUMBELI (taking up the gun): No, sir.
INDONGO: My son, I grant you this valise of high quality. Fill it with many things, including ammunition, but most of all with courage.
MUMBELI: I thank you for this case, sir. I pledge to fill it not only with the necessary items, such as socks, undershirts, sweaters, small keepsakes, but also with —
BOER POLICEMAN NUMBER 1 (shouting): Ah! Is this a meeting in violation of the Non-Assembly Act, SA 771, Section 10, as applicable to the mandated territory? Am I late? Passes, var are your passes? Vostek! Bliksem! (INDONGO and MUMBELI run around the table, followed by BOER POLICEMAN NUMBER 1, waving his sjambok. Eventually who is chasing whom becomes confused after MUMBELI seizes the sjambok and he and INDONGO chase the POLICEMAN. IZELDA holds the kettle, watches.)
Bulb dims.
SCENE 2: The living room of a typical location house in the Damara section of Katatura location. Two blue chairs.
PARADISE (sewing a scarf): So you have come, my gallant, to say farewell? (She begins to cry.)
MUMBELI (placing his suitcase center stage): Don’t weep, baby.
PARADISE: Would you I show more mirth than I am mistress of?
MUMBELI: Oh, in a better world than this . . .
PARADISE: Alas. (They clasp hands.)
MUMBELI: Alas.
PARADISE: My pride in you is a mansion bitter built. My heart, however, is torn asunder. Go, my lovely! But know this: I will wait for you. (Pause. Quietly) That’s a very nice case.
MUMBELI: Always judge the man by the caliber of his luggage.
PARADISE (holds up scarf): I knit you this. Carry it well.
MUMBELI: Baby, it’s beautiful. (Pause.) But I’m not sure I’ve got room.
PARADISE: Your case is full?
MUMBELI: Yes, I have filled it with the necessary items, such as undergarments and sweaters, but also with—(The door swings open.)
BOER POLICEMAN NUMBER 2: What here? A Damara and an Ovambo cavorting? A clear violation of the Division of Races Act, SA 193, Section 18, Clause 15 (2) (C), as such is applicable to mandated territories. Passes! Var are your passes! Ah! Beautiful knitting! I never cease to be amazed by the craftiness of you native wenches. Such innate talent! May I? (MUMBELI refuses and begins to chase BOER POLICEMAN NUMBER 2, with the scarf, as if it were a sjambok. . . .)
Bulb dims.
SCENE 3: On the border. A barbed-wire fence strewn across the stage. On the other side of the fence, a sign: ANGOLA. MUMBELI looks at Angola, then turns around slowly—a great weight on his shoulders and a gun in his hand—to look lovingly at the audience, as at a much-loved country.
MUMBELI: My story? You should like to know my story? Now you ask? I have none. I was killed on the border, by a fence. Once, I had one. I was called Ignatius Mumbeli. I had a mother also. You too? Funny how we all—Mine was a charwoman for a white family in the dorp. I remember waiting on the stoep while she folded sheets. Sheets were washed on Wednesdays. They were aired out all other days. She mopped the floor before dinner and after dinner. On her hands and knees, she mopped the floor. Before dinner and after dinner. She shined their shoes. She raised four of them and five of us. Once, one of them died. I remember. His name was Jan. She came home and wept over him. Now, may I ask, whose mother will weep over me? I had a girl. If I had more time, I would tell you about my beautiful. Her name was Paradise. Her parents, you see, were optimists —
AUNTIE (having climbed in through a stage-left window): Come to my boozalum, angel.
MUMBELI: Are you a ghost, Mother?
AUNTIE: No ghost, boy, I’m your fantasy.
OBADIAH: [Cut! Cut! Cut! Get her out of here!]
BOER POLICEMAN NUMBER 3 (gun drawn, plastic bag wrapped tight on his head to simulate baldness): Aha! Terrorist! Dummkopf! Var do you think you’re going? Who gave you a pass to leave the mandated territory, eh? Eh? (BOER POLICEMAN NUMBER 3 and MUMBELI [and AUNTIE] fight. BOER POLICEMAN NUMBER 3 shoots MUMBELI. MUMBELI shoots BOER POLICEMAN NUMBER 3. MUMBELI dies. BOER POLICEMAN NUMBER 3 dies.)
AUNTIE (noticing the suitcase): Hmmmm. (Snatches it, creeps off.)
FESTUS FESTUS GALLI (trailed by a platoon of blue helmets, stops at the bodies): Ah, tut tut tut. Clean this mess up, boys. Oh, this quarry cries havoc. (Consults script.) Or is it this havoc cries quarry?
Bulb out.