Ruined

“Yes, you’re very pretty. I can see how that caused you problems. Do you know what kind of place this is?”

Mama Nadi speaks to Sophie directly after learning that Sophie has been brutally sexually abused, to the point where she is unable to work for Mama Nadi as a prostitute. Mama Nadi reminds Sophie of the nature of the bar, preparing Sophie for interactions she may have to have with men who will likely find her attractive.

“This is a nice place for a drink. Yeah? I don’t abide by bush laws. If you want to drink like a man, you drink like a man. You want to behave like gorilla, then go back into the bush.” 

In an attempt to set boundaries, Mama Nadi admonishes a rebel soldier who is acting aggressively in her bar, reminding him that his hypermasculine behavior is not welcome. She compares him to an ape, insulting him in a show of authority as the proprietor of the bar.

“Well, my darling, in this damnable age of the mobile phone it’s become quite the precious ore, no? And for whatever reason, God has seen fit to bless your backward country with an abundance of it.” 

Mr. Harari challenges Mama Nadi’s casual attitude toward the mining boom in the Congo while explaining to the audience the reasons behind the ongoing war over natural resources. He addresses Mama Nadi as “my darling,” revealing his affectionate feelings towards her and his superior attitude as an outsider taking advantage of business opportunities he observes.

“These, these idiots keep changing the damn rules on us. You file papers, and the next day the office is burned down. You buy land, and the next day the chief’s son has built a fucking house on it. I don’t know why anybody bothers. Madness.” 

Mr. Harari describes the rebel soldiers as “idiots,” while he describes the chaos of the current situation to Mama Nadi. His comments suggest that even when he tries to operate his business lawfully, he cannot make progress; his troubles are a warning to Mama Nadi, who is a businessowner as well. 

“Them soldiers don’t respect nothing. Them miners, they easy, they want drink, company, and it’s over. But the soldiers, they want more of you […].” 

In an emotional moment, Salima speaks to Sophie about the stress of dealing with the soldiers who patronize Mama Nadi’s bar. Salima becomes upset while the two young women are talking and using Josephine’s nail polish. Salima doesn’t specify which soldiers are disrespectful to her, as all of them, in her experience, are guilty of treating women badly.

“While I’m singing, I’m praying the pain will be gone, but what those men did to me lives inside my body. Every step I take I feel them in me. Punishing me. And it will be that way for the rest of my life.” 

Sophie talks openly with Salima of her own struggles, referring to the brutal rape she endured and the constant pain she experiences as a result of the attack. Sophie is only eighteen years old, and she feels that the damage to her body will impact her for her whole life. This insight into Sophie’s mindset makes her stealing money from Mama Nadi to pay for an operation to repair the damage more understandable.

“Don’t worry. Mama may be many things, but she don’t count so good. And when there’s enough we’ll get a bus to Bunia. I promise.” 

Sophie admits to Salima that she has been stealing money from Mama Nadi, a brazen move considering the power of Mama Nadi’s personality and the relative safety she has provided both Sophie and Salima. Sophie tells Salima of her intention to take Salima with her when she has enough saved for both of them to escape. Sophie reveals an unexpectedly courageous and desperate side to her personality by taking money from the powerful and intimidating Mama Nadi.

“A mere trick of fate. I’m sorry, but let me say what we all know, you are something worse than a whore. So many men have had you that you’re worthless.” 

Josephine insults Sophie in misdirected anger, misunderstanding the cause of Sophie’s pain and inability to have sexual intercourse and insulting her for it. Josephine’s anger comes from a place of pain, as she too has experienced the horror of the war in the Congo, and she takes her rage out on Sophie, who is weaker and younger than Josephine.  

“Forgive me, I bring you an early poem, but I’m afraid it’s running away from my memory. I still hope one day you will hear the music and dance with me.” 

Christian, in one of his many romantic gestures towards Mama Nadi, offers her a poem he has written as an expression of his affection for Mama Nadi. Mama dismisses Christian’s earnest words, as she usually does. Christian reveals himself to be a sensitive and emotional man by offering Mama his poetry and his love, a brave choice that proves that his version of masculinity is a softer one than the aggressive manliness suggested by the soldiers and miners who visit Mama Nadi’s bar.

“I was just by Yaka-yaka. When I was there six months ago, it was a forest filled with noisy birds, now it looks like God spooned out heaping mouthfuls of earth, and every stupid bastard is trying to get a taste of it. It’s been ugly, chérie, but never like this. Not here.” 

This is Christian speaking to Mama about the impact of the mining he has observed in his travels as a salesman. His words are a warning to Mama Nadi; the greed and ugliness that has affected other parts of their country are creeping closer, and Mama Nadi must learn to be careful. 

“No, as I said, I know of him. His men control the road east and the forest to the north of here.” 

When Osembenga questions Mama Nadi directly about Jerome Kisembe, the rebel leader, Mama denies that she has ever met him even though Kisembe was recently a customer in her bar. Her lie to the commander is a dangerous one, but Mama does not yet understand the implications of her refusal to take sides in the conflict. She believes she is protecting her place of business by maintaining neutrality.

“Good news, the commander has bought you a drink of whiskey and hopes that you’ll find prosperity.” 

After one of Osembenga’s men rudely demands a cigarette from Christian, the commander sends a drink to Christian as a gesture of good will. Mama Nadi insists that Christian must accept the drink, even though Christian does not drink alcohol; her forcefulness pressures Christian into drinking the shot of whiskey and he descends back into the alcoholism he was trying to manage up until this point. 

“Listen, listen, please listen, they can repair the damage.”

When Mama Nadi confronts Sophie about her theft, Sophie explains that she was stealing money in order to pay for an operation that she believes will repair the damage to her body. A man who came into the bar gave Sophie a piece of paper explaining the process, and Sophie shows this paper to Mama as proof of her intentions. Mama’s anger seems to subside at this point, and she congratulates Sophie for her boldness.

“I don’t want a Fanta. They’ve killed a white man. Do you know what that means? A missionary. They’re pushing us this way. They won’t think twice about killing us.” 

Christian refuses the beverage Mama Nadi offers him, demanding liquor instead. He is in a panic about Osembenga’s soldiers and the violence they are exacting; their killing of a white man shows that they have no fear of reprisal, and this audacity scares Christian. Osembenga is proving to be a dangerous man, unworthy of trust, and Christian fears for his life and the lives of Mama Nadi and her girls. 

“And, chérie, don’t look away from me, will you be able to tell him the truth? Huh? We know, don’t we? The woman he loved is dead.” 

Mama Nadi speaks painfully but honestly with Salima about Fortune, Salima’s husband, who has come to the bar to find Salima after shaming her and rejecting her. After Salima’s experiences being abused by the soldiers who captured her and her work as a prostitute at Mama Nadi’s bar, she is no longer the innocent girl whom Fortune first met and loved. Mama Nadi’s words foreshadow Salima’s death later, in Act Two.

“I walked into the family compound expecting wide open arms. An embrace. Five months, suffering. I suffered every single second of it. And my family gave me the back of their heads. And he, the man I loved since I was fourteen, chased me away with a green switch. He beat my ankles raw. And I dishonored him? I dishonored him?!” 

Salima explains to Sophie the details around Fortune’s betrayal after Salima finally became free of the soldiers who captured her. Upon her return home, Salima was met with more punishment and shame instead of the warmth and healing she expected. Salima’s disillusion is deep, and her repetition of the point about dishonor reflects her intense confusion and pain.

“If you are angry, then be angry at the men who took her. Think about how they did you, they reached right into your pocket and stole from you.” 

Simon, Fortune’s cousin, tries to speak sensibly with Fortune about Fortune’s loss; he encourages Fortune to direct his anger at the rightful villains, not at Salima, who is a victim of the soldiers. Simon’s suggestion that Salima was stolen from Fortune reinforces the notion that women, whether they are loved or they are abused, are objects to be possessed by men. 

“And then I’ll shut it. People come here to leave behind whatever mess they’ve made out there. That includes you, professor.”

When Christian drunkenly warns Mama Nadi about the inevitability of trouble at her door, she insists that she can maintain a distance from the conflict. She sees her bar as a refuge for all of her customers, no matter which side of the conflict they take; while her faith in herself is admirable, it also suggests denial. Mama Nadi does not want to admit that danger is coming closer to her, nor does she want her false sense of safety challenged.

“You’re lucky the commander is generous. I had to plead with him to give you another chance.” 

In an excessively cruel moment, Mama Nadi forces Sophie to meet Commander Osembenga in the back room, after Sophie takes a stand and refuses to be manhandled by the commander. This conflict takes place in front of Christian, Sophie’s uncle, who is shocked by Mama Nadi’s actions and drinks to cope with his horror. He confronts Mama Nadi about her obsession with money, and, in response, she lectures him about the freedom her girls have to leave her if they are unhappy with the version of safety they enjoy in her employment. 

“You are the most devilish of optimists. You—I don’t worry so much about you. But what about a lovely girl like Sophie?” 

Mr. Harari speaks directly with Mama Nadi, and his treatment of her as an equal reveals his concern for young and damaged Sophie. His comparison of Mama Nadi’s stubborn resilience to Sophie’s young vulnerability changes Mama in an instant, and she decides to send Sophie away with Mr. Harari, so she can have the operation she wants.

“No, listen…I’m talking about Sophie. This will raise enough money for an operation, and whatever she needs to get settled.” 

Mama Nadi experiences a change of heart, and she gives Mr. Harari the diamond she has kept as insurance to cover the costs of looking after Sophie. Mama’s kindness comes too late, however, as the aid worker who can transport both Sophie and Mr. Harari over the border leaves before Sophie can make it to the vehicle. 

“I’m surprised to see you. I thought you were through with me.” 

Some time after the arrival of the government soldiers and ensuing violence at the bar, during which Salima dies, Christian enters the bar with a letter for Sophie from her mother. Mama Nadi is excited to see him, but she tries to hide her pleasure. Christian soon admits that he has missed Mama Nadi, which flusters her, revealing that she has missed him, too.

“Because, it isn’t what I want? Bring me a Fanta, please.” 

After Christian shocks Mama Nadi with another proposal that they settle down together, he refuses her offer of a cold beer. He has again found his sobriety, so his proposal to Mama Nadi takes place while he is of sound mind. This mental clarity reveals his longstanding desire for Mama Nadi and the depth of his love for her.