 Rini Templeton |
a dramatic reading
for two people
Written by a working class Chilean woman
following
the overthrow of Chile's President Salvador
Allende
in 1973, this reflection recalls, sadly,
more recent
violations of human rights in Rwanda,
the Balkans, and East Timor. After you present
it, be sure to leave time for silent reflection
and discussion.
|
I am a
woman.
I am a woman.
I am a woman born of a woman,
whose man owned a factory.
I am a woman born of a woman,
whose man labored in a factory.
I am a woman whose man wore silk suits, who closely watched his weight.
I am a woman whose man wore tattered
clothing, whose heart was constantly strangled
by hunger.
I am a woman who watched two babies
grow into beautiful children.
I am a woman who watched two babies die
because there was no milk.
I am a woman who watched twins grow
into popular students with summers abroad.
I am a woman who watched three children
grow, but with bellies stretched from no
food.
But then there was a man:
But then there was a man:
And he talked about the peasants getting richer
by my family getting poorer.
And he told me of days that would be better, and he made the days better. We had to eat rice! We had to eat beans!
We had beans!
My children were no longer given
summer visas to Europe.
My children no longer cried themselves
to sleep.
I felt like a peasant.
I felt like a woman.
A peasant with a dull, hard, unexciting
life.
Like a woman with a life that sometimes
allowed a song.
And I saw a man.
And I saw a man.
And together we began to plot with
the hope of a return of freedom
--
I saw his heart begin to beat with
hope of freedom, at last.
Someday, the return of freedom.
Someday freedom.
But then, one day
But then, one day
There were planes overhead, and
guns firing close by.
There were planes overhead, and guns
firing in the distance.
I gathered my children and went
home.
I gathered my children and ran.
 Rini Templeton |
And the
guns moved farther and farther away.
But the guns moved closer and closer.
And then, they announced that freedom
had been restored!
And then, they came, young boys really
...
They came into my home along with
my man.
They came and found my man.
Those men whose money was almost gone
--
They took all the men whose lives were
almost their own.
And we had drinks to celebrate.
And they shot them all.
The most wonderful martinis.
They shot my man.
And then they asked us to dance.
And then they came for us.
Me.
For me, the woman.
And my sisters.
For my sisters.
And then they took us --
And then they took us --
They took us to dinner at a small,
private club.
They stripped from us the dignity we
had gained.
They treated us to beef.
They raped us.
It was one course after another.
One after another they came at us.
We nearly burst, we were so full.
Lunging, plunging ... sisters bleeding,
dying.
It was magnificent to be free again.
It was hardly a relief to have survived.
And then we gathered our children
together. And gave them some good wine And then we gave them a party
And then they took the hands of the
children ...
(Pause)
The beans have almost disappeared
now.
The beans have disappeared.
The rice I've replaced with chicken
or steak.
The rice, I cannot find it.
And the parties continue night after
night, to make up for all the time wasted.
And my silent tears are joined once
more by the midnight cries of my children.
I feel like a woman again.
They say I am a woman.
Coordinating Center for Woman, 105 Madison Ave., New York, NY |
QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION
- What feelings surfaced as you heard the story unfold?
- What part was most powerful for you?
- Where is this story in some sense happening today?
- How do poverty,
privilege and gender shape these women's
perspectives?
What about your perspective?
