luces
de
la
frontera
a
one
act
play
by
jose
luis
gonzalez
Cast of Characters:
=
Rodriguez US Border Patrol agent. Stocky Latino, about thirty years old.
Parsons Also a BP agent. Near fifty, gray-blonde, medium build, Texas accent. A real Good Ol’ Boy.
Miguel mid-twenties migrant worker.
Inez mid-twenties migrant worker. Miguel’s wife.
Benito eight-year-old son of Miguel and Inez.
Diego late-sixties Latino. Old and tired, but still imposing.
Doroteo* Mexican Revolutionary War soldier. Big and loud.
John* Urban professional Latino in his thirties.
Pequena* Bad-ass chola, about seventeen.
Linda* Timid Mexicana, about forty-five.
* Note: Their first appearance on stage will require the following voice switches- Dorroteo will speak with John’s voice, and vice versa; Pequena will speak with Linda’s voice, and vice versa.
Sasha Delacruz TV reporter, early-thirties.
Border Patrol Agent voice off-stage. May be Parson’s voice.
Community Member voice off stage. Middle-aged, irate female.
Interviewer Voice off stage. Clear, but suspicious. Can have other voices with him.
Boy Mexicano about thirteen. Skinny and frail.
A number of Passerby’s will be needed, as well.
The curtain opens to reveal a sun about to set. The purple-orange haze settles over the shadows of a desert plane.
From above, center, a cage-like structure lowers into view. The lights hit it. It’s large enough for two people, and looks like the top of the surveillance towers that line the US-Mexico border. Antennas and spotlights shoot out of the corner of the crow’s nest.
In the crow’s nest are two Border Patrol officers. PARSONS is a forty-five year old, gray-blonde man with a medium build and a Texas accent. His partner, RODRIGUEZ, is a stocky Latino of about thirty.
Parsons looks over the audience with a pair of binoculars while Rodriguez leans against the rail and watches the sunset.
Parsons: So why’d you chose this line of work, Rodriguez?
Rodriguez: Kinda hoping it’ll lead to something better on down the line. You?
Parsons: Me? Because I love it. Yessir, I love this job. Do you realize that we are the last defenders of our country? It’s true. Sure, the soldiers are off overseas defending our interests. But whose left behind to guard the mainland? Me. And you, of course. Yessir, Rodriguez. Sometimes I don’t think you appreciate the importance of this job. Like this is just the first step in a longer career for you. I mean, if that’s what you really want to do then more power to you, amigo. If you want to be pushing papers for the rest of your days than be my guest. Me, I’ll stay here in the desert. The last defender of the American Way. The power that we hold is incredible. We make decisions about who stays and who goes. Forget politics ‘cause those assholes aren’t down here chasing wets through the monte, tackling those little motherscratchers in the thorn and thickets. Don’t take this as an offense now, Rodriguez.
Rodriguez: None taken.
Parsons: That’s what I like about you, Rodriguez. You’re a good listener. Yep, we can let ‘em in or turn ‘em back. I prefer to turn ‘em back, of course. I mean, don’t get me wrong. I’d love for every one of those people to get a fair chance to come here. Hell, if it was up to me I’d say tear those fences down ‘cause in the eyes of the Lord we’re all brothers, right Rodriguez.
Rodriguez: Sure.
Parsons: You said it, amigo. You said it. But in the grand scheme of things, we gotta do our job like the do theirs. They try to run across and we turn their asses back! It’s just the way it’s gotta be. Not to say that I don’t enjoy this job just a little bit, because I honestly do. But who wouldn’t? I mean, we’re determining the events of the lives of hundreds of people every night. I tell ‘ya. When’re they gonna learn? You can come across if you do it by the book. If not, adios amigo! Back to the monte for you! I tell ‘ya. I think our problem here is communication. Wouldn’t you say so, Rodriguez?
Rodriguez: What was that? I wasn’t listening?
Parsons: God-damn-it, Rodriguez! Are you still asleep over there. Why don’t you drink some coffee and wake your ass up, son?
Lights go down on the crow’s nest as it lifts just above the stage where it will constantly overlook.
The sound of a moving train fills the air. A silhouette fades into the backdrop of the sunset forming the outline of a train. Puffs of white smoke drift past it and it shakes to show movement.
Lights slowly come up to reveal a train car with both of its doors open, leaving a huge hole in its center.
A figure leaps into the moving car from behind. He clings for dear life and finally makes it safely into the car.
He is MIGUEL, an illegal from Mexico. He is crossing this morning with his wife INEZ and son BENITO, both of whom are on another train car.
He catches his breath, stands up, and looks out the open door.
Miguel: (sign of the cross) Gracias, Virgecita, por dejarme alcanzar el tren.
DIEGO, a transient, lurks in the shadows.
Diego: That’s right, you better pray, cabron!
Miguel: Who said that?
Diego: Who told you this car was made for two? Who the hell gave you permission to invade my property? Who do you think you are?
Miguel: I don’t want trouble. I just want to catch my breath.
Diego: Vas a ver, hijo de la-Ay! Ay! Ay!
Diego runs out from the shadows with a walking stick in his hand. He waves it wildly over his head and rushes at Miguel. Miguel drops to the ground expecting the beating of his life. Instead, he finds a tired old man who loses his momentum before he reaches him.
Miguel: Chingado. I thought you were the devil himself.
Diego: How do you know I’m not?
Miguel: Well, you look about the same age so you might be.
Diego: Watch yourself, cabron. Remember who has the stick here.
Miguel: Bueno, bueno.
Diego: I’m Diego. Y tu?
Miguel: Miguel. Nice to meet you.
Diego: So what do you have to say for yourself? Breaking into my home. Making me get out of bed. Making me get my stick.
Miguel: (standing up) I’m sorry to bother you. But you see, we’re trying to go norte. My family and I. We found this train and started to climb on board, but then it started to move. I tried to climb in their car, but I fell off and
Miguel: (cont’d) almost got run over. I had to catch up just to get into this car. I’m just lucky the door was open.
Diego: I like to leave the doors open. It lets the fresh air in. Otherwise, I feel trapped.
Miguel: You said you lived here?
Diego: Live? I sleep here. Sleeping is only one third of living.
Miguel: A good third. I’m exhausted. Do you have anything to eat?
Diego: Sure. How rude of me. Would you like red wine with your steak or white? Pendejo.
Miguel: You don’t have anything?
Diego: This isn’t the pinche Orient Express.
Miguel: (pauses) I hope Inez and Benito are okay.
Diego: They’ll be fine. Have you ever done this before?
Miguel: No. Not by train. The river a few times, but we got sent back.
Diego: Are you looking for work?
Miguel: Yeah. My primo wrote to us and told us that there’s a blue jean factory in meen-eh-soda that does a lot of hiring in the spring. So Inez and I decided to try our luck. I mean, you can only do field labor for so long. I guess it won’t be so bad to do work indoors for a season. Less strain on your back. Plus the pay is good, so Benito might not have to work. But we’ll see. We’ll see. How about you? Are you looking for work?
Diego: No, mijo. My working days are over. I just ride the rails back and forth. I’ve been all over, too. Every state in Mexico. 22 en los estados unidos. Si senor, all I do is ride back and forth, back and forth. For the past thirty years. I’ve learned that the best part of a-
A helicopter swoops overhead and shines its lights along the length of the train. Miguel drops into the shadows while Diego stands at the opening.
Miguel: What are you doing?! They’re going to see you! They’ll stop the train!
Diego: They won’t see me. They never see me. Never have, never will. From up there I’m just another shadow. Another dust cloud. Another ghost. They couldn’t see me if they tried.
Sure enough, the helicopter flies away and the train continues at its pace.
Miguel: Biejo pendejo! You could have gotten us caught!
Diego: Watch your mouth, cabron! I’ve been crisscrossing this pinche continent since you were on sucking your mother’s chiches, so don’t tell me- (pauses) Chingado. What’s the use? You kids never listen anyways.
Miguel: What do-?
Diego: Like I was saying, the best part of a journey is the journey itself. (pauses) Why are you here?
Miguel: What do you mean?
Diego: Why are you here?
Miguel: I don’t know. Work. Feed the family, hopefully fix my mom’s house a little bit, add a room for mijo. I always wanted a car, too. Oh, and I’ve always wanted to go to a movie. I’ve never seen one before. I want to take everyone. Inez, Benito, Mama, los primos. Todos. And buy elotes and throw popcorn at the screen y todo! How about you? Why are you here, Diego?
Diego: I don’t know yet. (long pause) Look outside. See those lights?
The two men lean over the edge of the door and look out.
Miguel: Is that-?
Diego: Norte? Yeah. That’s El Paso.
Miguel: Is that a long way from meen-eh-soda?
Diego: Yeah. But it’s worth the trip.
Miguel: The skies look the same over here like they do over there.
Diego slides into the shadows while Miguel stares at the stars overhead.
Miguel: So tell me more about el norte.
No response. Miguel searches for Diego as the moonlight streams through the car, but we see that Miguel is the only person there. Inez yells from offstage.
Inez: Miguel! Miguel!
Miguel: Inez! Inez! Como estan?!
Benito: Papi!
Miguel: Mijo! Take care of your mama!
Inez: Are we almost there, Miguel?!
Miguel: Just over the hill!
The lights go out.
Four figures, two from each side, enter from stage right and left, each with a stool. They place the stools evenly apart along the front of the stage and sit quietly for a few moments.
Rodriguez, from the crow’s nest, shines a spotlight on the second person from the left. He is:
DOROTEO: A heavy set, old fashioned Mexican. Revolutionary War look to him. He wears a bullet belt and a sombrero and holds a rifle across his lap. Greasy face, thick black mustache, just what we’re used to seeing in old movies about the Alamo.
He stands to speak. His voice is clearer than a radio DJ’s.
Doroteo: My name is John. John Martin. Well, to be quite frank with you, that is not my Christian name. I was born with the hideous handle of Joo-ahn Dee-ay-go Mahr-teen-ez day Rah-moan. What a mouthful, huh? Imagine trying to get into law school and having to write that monstrosity down on every document handed to me. I’d probably still be filling out my application to attend! Why did I change my name? That’s a fair question, I suppose. There’s no real reason, ‘fraid to say. I guess I just can’t relate to those people. Oh, goodness, how horrible of me to say that. I can’t believe I- (pause) I mean.
Doroteo: (cont’d) The Mexican people have a lot to be proud of, after all. They did defeat the French. How many countries can say they did that? Not many. At least, I believe they beat the French.(pause) No matter. The point is I am definitely not ashamed to be a Hispanic. Or Latino, or whatever it is now. After all, America was founded on the belief that all men are unequal- excuse me, created equal. Geez, how did I let that slip out?
Doroteo ponders his last statement and takes a seat as the spotlight slides over to the seat on the far right, revealing:
PEQUENA: “Little One” in Spanish. This is this chola’s gang name, and it’s fitting. She drowns in an oversized plaid shirt and crispy-creased khakis. Her hair is in a tall poof in the front and her eye make-up is so thick her eyelids are fighting to stay open. She stands up and speaks in a timid voice.
Pequena: I was really scared the night we came across. It was me and my cousins Pedro and Cesar. Pedro had crossed seven times already but even though he’d only been caught three of those times I was worried about the trip. All we had to get across was a raft made of llantas, but only one of us could sit inside while the other two swam. We didn’t go through a coyote this time because last time we tried he left with our money and we never saw him again. Pedro said that you can’t trust them. I don’t know. Even though they may steal money, at least it seems mas seguro. We made it halfway across the river when I felt something crawl up my thigh. I don’t know what it was, but I yelled and fell out of the tube. We were doing fine until then because then the Migra heard us and came down to wait for us on the other side. Pedro and Cesar kept swimming, but I don’t know what happened to me. I just gave up. It was like I was dreaming because all I remember was the stars
Pequena: (cont’d) above me while I floated. Well, thank la Virgen that the next thing I’m caught on some branches. Some men came out of the bushes to help me. They were mojaditos like me, so I guess I let my guard down. They got me on solid earth, fed me, then they raped me. That was my first night in America.
She sits. The spotlight goes over to the seat at the far left is now lit. Up stands:
LINDA: A middle aged woman, very quiet looking. Humbly dressed. Her hair is pulled back in a bun.
Linda: What the fuck are you looking at? Yeah, you, bitch. Just cause I’m up here don’t mean I won’t go down there and shit. Vas a ver, cabrona. After this is over we’ll see what’s what. This is so fucking stupid. I’m supposed to stand up here and tell you all kinds of bullshit. What for? It’s not like any of it matters anyways. I mean, do y’all really give a shit about me? Good, cause I don’t give a shit about you. I’m supposed to be at a party tonight. My homegirl Tracy and her sister Flaca were gonna start some shit with these putas from over the hill. It’s ‘cause those bitches came over last week and keyed Flaca’s carucha. She just got that shit painted and that bitch Vanessa keyed it all up. Tried to spell out “puta” but Flaca’s dad came out of the house before they finished. Fucking putas. They’re probably kicking their asses right now and here I am, talkin’ to you faggots. What do you care? When was the last time you went through my neighborhood? Yeah, I seen some of you. But the only reason you come by is to buy dope and shit. Don’t think I don’t recognize you cabrones. Ah, I’m like whatever the fuck. You don’t fuck with me and you don’t get fucked with. So let’s just get this shit over with already.
Linda sits. Spotlight moves over to second person from right.
JOHN: looks like a politician. Clean cut, hardly a hint of Mexican on him. Bright eyes and white teeth. He speaks gruff.
John: (belts out a grito) Ay! Ay! Ay! Aaayyy! Viva Mexico, que la chingada! Viva Villa! Viva la Revolucion! What a day! We had those cabrones- thirty of Diaz’s finest men- cornered in a farmhouse just outside of Morelia. Those hijos de la chingada were out of ammo, so you know what they started to do? They were throwing rocks at us! Pinches piedras! Hijuesu’madre! We captured most of them, but some of those brutos tried hide out in a barn. We tried to burn them out, but they stayed inside and died. I guess they thought we were going to kill them. They were right, but still. Between burning and firing squad, chingado. That’s an easy choice. They say we’re too brutal, that Zapata is running a regular army down south. And all that mi General Villa has is guerrillas. I say whatever it takes. Let Zapata do it a su manera. We got enough to deal with with that hijo de la chingada Pershing after us. Chingado, all I know is that this Revolucion is going to mean a change for the better. I just hope that they remember us for it. (pause, then lets out another grito)
The spotlight goes out as his yell echoes across the stage. They all leave stage left.
The stage is again dark until the starry sky slowly comes back into view. Across the stage are the silhouettes of desert plants, cacti, and brush.
The sound of heavy breathing slowly becomes audible. As it climbs, footsteps running through the desert can also be heard.
The sound gets louder and louder and is then accompanied by another set of running footsteps. It sounds like the heavy breather is being chased by the second footsteps. They trample through the monte.
Rodriguez shines a spotlight on center stage to reveal Miguel running then coming to a complete stop.
Miguel: What are you doing?! Turn that pinche light off!
Rodriguez: Hey, Parsons! He’s over here!
Miguel: Hey, cabron! I’m one of yours! You’re gonna turn me in?
Rodriguez: I have to.
Miguel: Says who, pendejo?
Rodriguez: It’s my job. I’m sorry.
Miguel: Your job? Don’t give me that. I got my family hiding out in this pinche monte. If I get caught, what are they going to do, huh? They won’t make it alone.
Rodriguez: Then tell me where they are and we’ll get them, too. At least you’ll be together.
Miguel: No mames, guey. Mira, just turn that pinche light off, turn around, and pretend you didn’t see me.
Rodriguez: Too late.
Parsons leaps out of the shadows and tackles Miguel.
Parsons: (punching Miguel) Hey, cah-brone! You’re one fast little bastard, aren’t you? A regular Speedy Gonzalez. Good job, Rodriguez!
Miguel: (looking up at Rodriguez) That’s my last name, too.
Pasrons: Shut up, pen-day-ho. No one said you could talk. Hold the light steady, Rodriguez. Let me get a good look at this one. Look at you. (stands over Miguel) Yeah, definitely a field worker. I can tell from a mile away. Strong like oxes, quick like foxes. You young ones are the hardest to catch. Boy, let me tell ‘ya, I hadn’t seen any action in two nights but you come along and brighten my week. Thanks a lot, amigo. And for putting a smile on my face, you know what your reward’s gonna be? A
Parsons: (cont’d) first class trip back to Ol’ Mexico. How’s that sound?
Parsons laughs and is distracted long enough to allow Miguel to reach up and snag the gun off of his belt. The tables have turned.
Parsons is frozen. Miguel gets up, gun pointed squarely at Parsons.
Parsons: Now, n-now, d-don’t do anything you’ll regret, friend.
You can almost hear Parsons shitting bricks.
Parsons: J-j-just, take it easy, and-
Miguel: Ora que, cabron? Now what? How do you like it, huh? (burying gun into Parson’s forehead) How’s the pinche view now?! Hijo de la chingada! (backs off)
Parsons: Oh, God. Oh, God. God, oh, God. Robriguez. (through his teeth) Shoot this fucking guy! Please don’t kill me, amigo. Please-
Miguel: Look, I’m not going to hurt you. I just want a chance like everyone else. I tried to get into America the legal way, but the paperwork says no. And if there’s one thing I know is that in America paperwork rules. So this is my only chance. I am not a criminal. I am an honest worker. A father and husband. I just want to live a good life. To feed my family. To go out on Saturday nights and watch a pinche movie. What’s wrong with that?
Parsons: Rodriguez! Rodriguez! What are you waiting for? Take this piece of shit out!
Rodriguez is speechless.
Parsons: (furious) Goddamnit, Rodriguez! Shoot this fucking wet!
Rodriguez: I’m afraid I can’t do that, Parsons.
Parsons: What the hell are you talking about?
Rodriguez tosses the light squarely on Parsons.
Parsons: (blinded) What the hell’s the matter with you? I can’t see!
Rodriguez: I can’t see, either. The only thing down there is shadows.
Miguel looks up at Rodriguez and tosses the gun into the brush. Miguel slips away before Parsons can catch him.
Lights out.
A voice speaks in the darkness.
Sasha: Chingado. Is this mic on? Oh, we’re ready? Orale.
A light comes up on a female reporter at the front of the stage. Her name is SASHA DELACRUZ.
Sasha: This is Sasha Delacruz reporting from along the US-Mexico border where a group of American citizens have thought up a creative way to deter illegal aliens from entering the United States. Every night for the past six months, members of this quiet hilltop community park their cars along the edge of this ridge and shine their lights across the border in order to assist the US Border Patrol in spotting wetbacks. “Operation Lite-Brite” as it was been affectionately dubbed has been deemed a success by both community leaders and the Border Patrol.
BORDER PATROL AGENT: (off stage) I tell you, if it wasn’t for the folks up there with their lights on, no tellin’ how many of those wets woulda come through by now. We appreciate all the help we can get.
COMMUNITY MEMBER: (off stage) Those people come up over the hill, into our neighborhoods and rummage through our trash, vandalize our property. My neighbor even caught one man bathing in her fountain. Do you believe that? Savages.
Sasha: The numbers show that illegal immigrant flow in this region has dropped by seventy eight percent since Operation Lite-Brite began, and the community spokeswoman says they won’t be
Sasha: (cont’d) happy until wetback flow is completely stopped. Oh, look. Here they go, about to spark up their lights. Let’s watch…
Car by car, the pairs of headlights come up all along the back of the stage. Quickly, a wall of blinding light is sent over the audience. Sasha exits stage right. When the light becomes unbearable, they simultaneously turn off.
A light then comes up over center stage to reveal Rodriguez sitting in a chair. He wears a cheesy three-piece suit.
The INTERVIEWER will remain as a voice offstage.
Interviewer: Well, Mr. Rodriguez, your scores on the oral examination were some of the highest we’ve seen in a while. And your written scores were admirable as well.
Rodriguez: Thank you. I’ve been preparing for this for years. I’m just glad my hard work paid off.
Interviewer: Yes. Well, we were reviewing your application and noticed that you are a first generation American. And that you parents lived here, illegally, for quite some time.
Rodriguez: Yes, but my father eventually became an American citizen. And I was one since birth, so-
Interviewer: Yes, we understand, Mr. Rodriguez. The only thing that we find curious is the fact that someone with such close ties to Mexico would want to work for the United States Border Patrol.
Rodriguez: Well. It’s just a job. That’s how I see it.
Interviewer: Well, that’s the right attitude to have, Mr. Rodriguez. So, let’s say that, in conversation with your coworkers, one of them refers to a Mexican as a wetback. What would you do?
Rodriguez: Well. That’s a pretty general term. And it gets tossed around quite frequently. I’d have to say I wouldn’t take any offense whatsoever.
Interviewer: How about if the same coworker continued the conversation and referred to Mexicans as greasers?
Rodriguez: Greasers? Gosh. That hasn’t been used for thirty years. I’d have to say I’d probably laugh.
Interviewer: Mmm-hmm. How about, let’s say, spic. How does spic sound to you?
Rodriguez: Look, with all due respect, I’d like to know what this line of questioning has to do with my application to-
Interviewer: Spic, Mr. Rodriguez. Beaner, greaser, wet, fence-jumper, frijolero, illiterate, unclean, drunk-
Rodriguez: Excuse me?
Interviewer: - violent, lazy, ill-mannered, abusive, ignorant, half-breed-
Rodriguez: Hey, hey, hey! I’m having a very difficult time trying to understand what this has to do with my interview!
Interviewer: Don’t worry, Mr. Rodriguez, you’ve done just fine so far. Your reaction up to this point is far better than that of previous interviewees. You’re doing just fine.
Rodriguez: So this, this is part of the examination?
Interviewer: Uh… Yeah. Yes. Of course it is. Now, one last question and we’ll go ahead and let you go.
Rodriguez: Alright.
Interviewer: If given the opportunity, would you allow a wetback to enter the United States? Even knowing that there’d be no way anyone would ever find out?
Rodriguez: As a Border Patrol agent, if I do get the job, I am sworn to protect the nation’s borders. That means putting all sympathies aside focusing only on the defense of my nation, its beliefs, and its border. Does that answer your question?
Interviewer: Yes it does. Thank you, Mr. Rodriguez. You can step out now.
Rodriguez leaves the stage with the chair.
Lights out.
Over the darkness, the sounds of a city fill the air: people talking, cars honking, screeching tires, yelling.
Finally, the sun rises. The yellow-orange glow of a new day fills the sky. The downtown of a border city lines the back of the stage.
Miguel, Inez, and Benito walk along the sidewalk. PASSERBY’S go about their business.
The trio approaches a large statue of Doroteo, which has been tagged, ragged, and is one strong breeze away from falling over.
They look around in awe and confusion.
Benito: This looks a lot like Mexico, pa.
Miguel: I noticed.
Inez: I think you should ask someone how to get to meen-eh-soda.
Miguel: I think you’re right.
Miguel approaches John Martin. He darts through the crowd trying to make as little physical contact as possible.
Miguel: Perdon, senor. Como llego a meen-eh-soda?
John: You darn people. What, what do you want, say-nor?
Miguel: Como llego a meen-eh-soda?
John: You what? You want a soda? Sorry, amigo, no hablo Espanol. I’ve got to go.
Miguel: (broken English) But I know a little Eng-
John walks away.
Miguel: Chingado. He’s darker than me and he doesn’t know Spanish.
Penquena approaches with a badass chola stroll.
Miguel: Senorita, me puede alludar en-
Pequena: (grabs Miguel) Get the fuck away from me, pinche mojado. I can’t even walk this street anymore without you cabrones all over me, goddamnit.
She shoves Miguel out of the way and continues down the sidewalk.
Inez: Mira, Miguel. There’s a woman who looks like us.
Linda picks fruit from a nearby vegetable cart.
Miguel: Senora. Perdon, but can you please tell me how to get to meen-eh-soda.
Linda: Minnesota. I have family there, mijo. Dios mio, I haven’t seen them in years. Oh, but you want to know how to get there? Well, it’s up north. A good three day trip by car. Two by bus.
Miguel: Three? Three days? Are you sure?
Linda: Yes, mijo. Why? Do you have family there, too?
Miguel: Thank you. Yes, well- no, no I don’t. But thank you, senora.
Linda: Si, mijo. Que dios los bendiga.
Miguel returns to Inez and Benito.
Inez: Look at how the people are dressed here! Aren’t they strange?
Benito: They all look like movie stars!
Miguel: Si. Si. Inez, we’re a long way from minee-sota.
Inez: How far?
Miguel: Far enough to where I don’t know if we’ll make it.
Inez: How far, Miguel?
Miguel: Three days by car, the woman said.
Inez: We don’t have a car.
Miguel: I know.
They stand and watch the new world around them.
Inez: Here we are. (pause) Back there on the train, when we almost got split up. Dios mio, Miguel. That was the worst feeling of my life. To think that I’d be up here alone with mijo. And… pero for one little moment, I thought about you staying behind and I thought of all that I could do to get by here in America. And you know what, it was scary, Miguel. It was really scary, but I never lost
Inez: (cont’d) hope. Nunca. I didn’t care what it took, I knew… I just knew I had to fight. But then, thanks to el destino, o Diosito, o la Virgencita, or maybe just our love, you caught up to the train and you jumped in. And I’m grateful. We came this far, Miguel. There’s no use in turning back now.
Miguel hugs Inez tightly.
Miguel: We’ll figure something out.
Inez: I know.
Miguel: Right now we have (reaches in pocket and counts money), eight hundred dollars. You hungry, mijo?
Benito: Si.
Miguel: Let’s go find something to eat. And then, let’s go find a place where we can watch a movie.
Inez: A movie, Miguel?
Miguel: Claro que si. Something funny and romantic.
Happy-ending music to a movie swells in the background. The family walks down the street together as the music and lights go out.
Two flashlights scour the stage. It’s Parsons and Rodriguez.
Parsons: You did it this time, Rodriguez. Not only did you put my life in danger, but you allowed a whole family of wets to illegally enter the United States. You’re in a world of shit now, amigo.
Rodriguez ignores Parsons.
Parsons: Are you listening, Rodriguez? You’re gonna-
Rodriguez: I don’t care, Parsons. I really don’t.
What are we doing here? Huh? Who are we protecting? What are we protecting?
Parsons: Our interests.
Rodriguez: Our interests? How can we allow American businesses to set up shop just on the other side of the border so they can rob the people of their land and their dignity?
Rodriguez: (cont’d) If those are our interests then consider me wholly uninterested.
Parsons: You’ve lost it, man. You’ve gone completely ape-shit. Those businesses are the only thing putting food in those people’s mouths. But that’s not even the issue here. The issue is that we were sworn to protect-
Rodriguez: Sworn to protect, sworn to protect. Is that all you care about? An oath, a word, that on its own is worth less than the air it occupies?
Parsons: It’s my job, amigo. And yours, too.
Rodriguez: It’s not my job, Parsons. Not anymore.
Parsons: (incredulously) Fuck this. You’re- this- you… Fuck this! I got a night’s worth of paperwork to fill thanks to you, asshole.
Parsons walks off stage.
Rodriguez begins to walk away, but a BOY’S voice calls to him. He can barely hear it over the rushing water nearby.
Boy: Ayudenme! Ayudenme!
At this point, the lights go out on stage but projected on the back wall will be the following images which will be accompanied by voices and sound FX offstage.
Still #1: The Boy is clinging to a tree limb. The river’s current is strong and the boy can barely hold on.
Rodriguez: (approaching boy) Que paso?
Boy: Mi familia, senor!
Still #2: Rodriguez tries to reach Boy with a stick.
Rodriguez: Grab the stick!
Boy: No puedo! No puedo!
Still #3: The river is still churning around the Boy. Rodriguez wades in help him.
Rodriguez: I’m coming. Esperame.
Boy: Ayudeme, senor!
Still #4: Rodriguez maintains himself by holding on to the limb the Boy is on.
Still #5: Rodriguez reaches the boy.
Rodriguez: I got you. I got you.
The Boy is crying.
Still #6: Rodriguez carries the boy back to shore.
Still #7: Rodriguez lets the Boy down and he scurries up the shore.
Still #8: An empty industrial barrel comes floating down river. Rodriguez doesn’t see it…
Still #9: The barrel blindsides Rodriguez and knocks him out cold.
Still #10: He floats down river, lifeless. The Boy yells after him.
The projector goes out and the moonlight comes up to find the weeping Boy huddled on center stage.
Like a ghost, Diego appears and stand over the Boy.
Diego: Que paso, nino.
Boy: Mi familia was swimming across, senor. Pero se los llevo la corriente and they all died. Mami, y papi, y Pedrito.
Diego: How did you make it?
Boy: I grabbed a tree and waited for some one to help me. A Border man came and got me, but he fell in, too. Ahora esta muerto.
Diego: Are you hungry, mijo?
Boy: What am I going to do? What am I going to do?
Diego: Are you hungry?
Boy: (pause) Si.
Diego: Come on. I’ll find us some food.
Diego picks the Boy up and carries him in his arms. A light illuminates the back of the stage. It forms a silhouette of tired, hunched bodies walking along the horizon.
Diego and the Boy head in that direction.
Lights out.
The End
luces
de
la
frontera
a
one
act
play
by
jose
luis
gonzalez
Cast of Characters:
=
Rodriguez US Border Patrol agent. Stocky Latino, about thirty years old.
Parsons Also a BP agent. Near fifty, gray-blonde, medium build, Texas accent. A real Good Ol’ Boy.
Miguel mid-twenties migrant worker.
Inez mid-twenties migrant worker. Miguel’s wife.
Benito eight-year-old son of Miguel and Inez.
Diego late-sixties Latino. Old and tired, but still imposing.
Doroteo* Mexican Revolutionary War soldier. Big and loud.
John* Urban professional Latino in his thirties.
Pequena* Bad-ass chola, about seventeen.
Linda* Timid Mexicana, about forty-five.
* Note: Their first appearance on stage will require the following voice switches- Dorroteo will speak with John’s voice, and vice versa; Pequena will speak with Linda’s voice, and vice versa.
Sasha Delacruz TV reporter, early-thirties.
Border Patrol Agent voice off-stage. May be Parson’s voice.
Community Member voice off stage. Middle-aged, irate female.
Interviewer Voice off stage. Clear, but suspicious. Can have other voices with him.
Boy Mexicano about thirteen. Skinny and frail.
A number of Passerby’s will be needed, as well.
The curtain opens to reveal a sun about to set. The purple-orange haze settles over the shadows of a desert plane.
From above, center, a cage-like structure lowers into view. The lights hit it. It’s large enough for two people, and looks like the top of the surveillance towers that line the US-Mexico border. Antennas and spotlights shoot out of the corner of the crow’s nest.
In the crow’s nest are two Border Patrol officers. PARSONS is a forty-five year old, gray-blonde man with a medium build and a Texas accent. His partner, RODRIGUEZ, is a stocky Latino of about thirty.
Parsons looks over the audience with a pair of binoculars while Rodriguez leans against the rail and watches the sunset.
Parsons: So why’d you chose this line of work, Rodriguez?
Rodriguez: Kinda hoping it’ll lead to something better on down the line. You?
Parsons: Me? Because I love it. Yessir, I love this job. Do you realize that we are the last defenders of our country? It’s true. Sure, the soldiers are off overseas defending our interests. But whose left behind to guard the mainland? Me. And you, of course. Yessir, Rodriguez. Sometimes I don’t think you appreciate the importance of this job. Like this is just the first step in a longer career for you. I mean, if that’s what you really want to do then more power to you, amigo. If you want to be pushing papers for the rest of your days than be my guest. Me, I’ll stay here in the desert. The last defender of the American Way. The power that we hold is incredible. We make decisions about who stays and who goes. Forget politics ‘cause those assholes aren’t down here chasing wets through the monte, tackling those little motherscratchers in the thorn and thickets. Don’t take this as an offense now, Rodriguez.
Rodriguez: None taken.
Parsons: That’s what I like about you, Rodriguez. You’re a good listener. Yep, we can let ‘em in or turn ‘em back. I prefer to turn ‘em back, of course. I mean, don’t get me wrong. I’d love for every one of those people to get a fair chance to come here. Hell, if it was up to me I’d say tear those fences down ‘cause in the eyes of the Lord we’re all brothers, right Rodriguez.
Rodriguez: Sure.
Parsons: You said it, amigo. You said it. But in the grand scheme of things, we gotta do our job like the do theirs. They try to run across and we turn their asses back! It’s just the way it’s gotta be. Not to say that I don’t enjoy this job just a little bit, because I honestly do. But who wouldn’t? I mean, we’re determining the events of the lives of hundreds of people every night. I tell ‘ya. When’re they gonna learn? You can come across if you do it by the book. If not, adios amigo! Back to the monte for you! I tell ‘ya. I think our problem here is communication. Wouldn’t you say so, Rodriguez?
Rodriguez: What was that? I wasn’t listening?
Parsons: God-damn-it, Rodriguez! Are you still asleep over there. Why don’t you drink some coffee and wake your ass up, son?
Lights go down on the crow’s nest as it lifts just above the stage where it will constantly overlook.
The sound of a moving train fills the air. A silhouette fades into the backdrop of the sunset forming the outline of a train. Puffs of white smoke drift past it and it shakes to show movement.
Lights slowly come up to reveal a train car with both of its doors open, leaving a huge hole in its center.
A figure leaps into the moving car from behind. He clings for dear life and finally makes it safely into the car.
He is MIGUEL, an illegal from Mexico. He is crossing this morning with his wife INEZ and son BENITO, both of whom are on another train car.
He catches his breath, stands up, and looks out the open door.
Miguel: (sign of the cross) Gracias, Virgecita, por dejarme alcanzar el tren.
DIEGO, a transient, lurks in the shadows.
Diego: That’s right, you better pray, cabron!
Miguel: Who said that?
Diego: Who told you this car was made for two? Who the hell gave you permission to invade my property? Who do you think you are?
Miguel: I don’t want trouble. I just want to catch my breath.
Diego: Vas a ver, hijo de la-Ay! Ay! Ay!
Diego runs out from the shadows with a walking stick in his hand. He waves it wildly over his head and rushes at Miguel. Miguel drops to the ground expecting the beating of his life. Instead, he finds a tired old man who loses his momentum before he reaches him.
Miguel: Chingado. I thought you were the devil himself.
Diego: How do you know I’m not?
Miguel: Well, you look about the same age so you might be.
Diego: Watch yourself, cabron. Remember who has the stick here.
Miguel: Bueno, bueno.
Diego: I’m Diego. Y tu?
Miguel: Miguel. Nice to meet you.
Diego: So what do you have to say for yourself? Breaking into my home. Making me get out of bed. Making me get my stick.
Miguel: (standing up) I’m sorry to bother you. But you see, we’re trying to go norte. My family and I. We found this train and started to climb on board, but then it started to move. I tried to climb in their car, but I fell off and
Miguel: (cont’d) almost got run over. I had to catch up just to get into this car. I’m just lucky the door was open.
Diego: I like to leave the doors open. It lets the fresh air in. Otherwise, I feel trapped.
Miguel: You said you lived here?
Diego: Live? I sleep here. Sleeping is only one third of living.
Miguel: A good third. I’m exhausted. Do you have anything to eat?
Diego: Sure. How rude of me. Would you like red wine with your steak or white? Pendejo.
Miguel: You don’t have anything?
Diego: This isn’t the pinche Orient Express.
Miguel: (pauses) I hope Inez and Benito are okay.
Diego: They’ll be fine. Have you ever done this before?
Miguel: No. Not by train. The river a few times, but we got sent back.
Diego: Are you looking for work?
Miguel: Yeah. My primo wrote to us and told us that there’s a blue jean factory in meen-eh-soda that does a lot of hiring in the spring. So Inez and I decided to try our luck. I mean, you can only do field labor for so long. I guess it won’t be so bad to do work indoors for a season. Less strain on your back. Plus the pay is good, so Benito might not have to work. But we’ll see. We’ll see. How about you? Are you looking for work?
Diego: No, mijo. My working days are over. I just ride the rails back and forth. I’ve been all over, too. Every state in Mexico. 22 en los estados unidos. Si senor, all I do is ride back and forth, back and forth. For the past thirty years. I’ve learned that the best part of a-
A helicopter swoops overhead and shines its lights along the length of the train. Miguel drops into the shadows while Diego stands at the opening.
Miguel: What are you doing?! They’re going to see you! They’ll stop the train!
Diego: They won’t see me. They never see me. Never have, never will. From up there I’m just another shadow. Another dust cloud. Another ghost. They couldn’t see me if they tried.
Sure enough, the helicopter flies away and the train continues at its pace.
Miguel: Biejo pendejo! You could have gotten us caught!
Diego: Watch your mouth, cabron! I’ve been crisscrossing this pinche continent since you were on sucking your mother’s chiches, so don’t tell me- (pauses) Chingado. What’s the use? You kids never listen anyways.
Miguel: What do-?
Diego: Like I was saying, the best part of a journey is the journey itself. (pauses) Why are you here?
Miguel: What do you mean?
Diego: Why are you here?
Miguel: I don’t know. Work. Feed the family, hopefully fix my mom’s house a little bit, add a room for mijo. I always wanted a car, too. Oh, and I’ve always wanted to go to a movie. I’ve never seen one before. I want to take everyone. Inez, Benito, Mama, los primos. Todos. And buy elotes and throw popcorn at the screen y todo! How about you? Why are you here, Diego?
Diego: I don’t know yet. (long pause) Look outside. See those lights?
The two men lean over the edge of the door and look out.
Miguel: Is that-?
Diego: Norte? Yeah. That’s El Paso.
Miguel: Is that a long way from meen-eh-soda?
Diego: Yeah. But it’s worth the trip.
Miguel: The skies look the same over here like they do over there.
Diego slides into the shadows while Miguel stares at the stars overhead.
Miguel: So tell me more about el norte.
No response. Miguel searches for Diego as the moonlight streams through the car, but we see that Miguel is the only person there. Inez yells from offstage.
Inez: Miguel! Miguel!
Miguel: Inez! Inez! Como estan?!
Benito: Papi!
Miguel: Mijo! Take care of your mama!
Inez: Are we almost there, Miguel?!
Miguel: Just over the hill!
The lights go out.
Four figures, two from each side, enter from stage right and left, each with a stool. They place the stools evenly apart along the front of the stage and sit quietly for a few moments.
Rodriguez, from the crow’s nest, shines a spotlight on the second person from the left. He is:
DOROTEO: A heavy set, old fashioned Mexican. Revolutionary War look to him. He wears a bullet belt and a sombrero and holds a rifle across his lap. Greasy face, thick black mustache, just what we’re used to seeing in old movies about the Alamo.
He stands to speak. His voice is clearer than a radio DJ’s.
Doroteo: My name is John. John Martin. Well, to be quite frank with you, that is not my Christian name. I was born with the hideous handle of Joo-ahn Dee-ay-go Mahr-teen-ez day Rah-moan. What a mouthful, huh? Imagine trying to get into law school and having to write that monstrosity down on every document handed to me. I’d probably still be filling out my application to attend! Why did I change my name? That’s a fair question, I suppose. There’s no real reason, ‘fraid to say. I guess I just can’t relate to those people. Oh, goodness, how horrible of me to say that. I can’t believe I- (pause) I mean.
Doroteo: (cont’d) The Mexican people have a lot to be proud of, after all. They did defeat the French. How many countries can say they did that? Not many. At least, I believe they beat the French.(pause) No matter. The point is I am definitely not ashamed to be a Hispanic. Or Latino, or whatever it is now. After all, America was founded on the belief that all men are unequal- excuse me, created equal. Geez, how did I let that slip out?
Doroteo ponders his last statement and takes a seat as the spotlight slides over to the seat on the far right, revealing:
PEQUENA: “Little One” in Spanish. This is this chola’s gang name, and it’s fitting. She drowns in an oversized plaid shirt and crispy-creased khakis. Her hair is in a tall poof in the front and her eye make-up is so thick her eyelids are fighting to stay open. She stands up and speaks in a timid voice.
Pequena: I was really scared the night we came across. It was me and my cousins Pedro and Cesar. Pedro had crossed seven times already but even though he’d only been caught three of those times I was worried about the trip. All we had to get across was a raft made of llantas, but only one of us could sit inside while the other two swam. We didn’t go through a coyote this time because last time we tried he left with our money and we never saw him again. Pedro said that you can’t trust them. I don’t know. Even though they may steal money, at least it seems mas seguro. We made it halfway across the river when I felt something crawl up my thigh. I don’t know what it was, but I yelled and fell out of the tube. We were doing fine until then because then the Migra heard us and came down to wait for us on the other side. Pedro and Cesar kept swimming, but I don’t know what happened to me. I just gave up. It was like I was dreaming because all I remember was the stars
Pequena: (cont’d) above me while I floated. Well, thank la Virgen that the next thing I’m caught on some branches. Some men came out of the bushes to help me. They were mojaditos like me, so I guess I let my guard down. They got me on solid earth, fed me, then they raped me. That was my first night in America.
She sits. The spotlight goes over to the seat at the far left is now lit. Up stands:
LINDA: A middle aged woman, very quiet looking. Humbly dressed. Her hair is pulled back in a bun.
Linda: What the fuck are you looking at? Yeah, you, bitch. Just cause I’m up here don’t mean I won’t go down there and shit. Vas a ver, cabrona. After this is over we’ll see what’s what. This is so fucking stupid. I’m supposed to stand up here and tell you all kinds of bullshit. What for? It’s not like any of it matters anyways. I mean, do y’all really give a shit about me? Good, cause I don’t give a shit about you. I’m supposed to be at a party tonight. My homegirl Tracy and her sister Flaca were gonna start some shit with these putas from over the hill. It’s ‘cause those bitches came over last week and keyed Flaca’s carucha. She just got that shit painted and that bitch Vanessa keyed it all up. Tried to spell out “puta” but Flaca’s dad came out of the house before they finished. Fucking putas. They’re probably kicking their asses right now and here I am, talkin’ to you faggots. What do you care? When was the last time you went through my neighborhood? Yeah, I seen some of you. But the only reason you come by is to buy dope and shit. Don’t think I don’t recognize you cabrones. Ah, I’m like whatever the fuck. You don’t fuck with me and you don’t get fucked with. So let’s just get this shit over with already.
Linda sits. Spotlight moves over to second person from right.
JOHN: looks like a politician. Clean cut, hardly a hint of Mexican on him. Bright eyes and white teeth. He speaks gruff.
John: (belts out a grito) Ay! Ay! Ay! Aaayyy! Viva Mexico, que la chingada! Viva Villa! Viva la Revolucion! What a day! We had those cabrones- thirty of Diaz’s finest men- cornered in a farmhouse just outside of Morelia. Those hijos de la chingada were out of ammo, so you know what they started to do? They were throwing rocks at us! Pinches piedras! Hijuesu’madre! We captured most of them, but some of those brutos tried hide out in a barn. We tried to burn them out, but they stayed inside and died. I guess they thought we were going to kill them. They were right, but still. Between burning and firing squad, chingado. That’s an easy choice. They say we’re too brutal, that Zapata is running a regular army down south. And all that mi General Villa has is guerrillas. I say whatever it takes. Let Zapata do it a su manera. We got enough to deal with with that hijo de la chingada Pershing after us. Chingado, all I know is that this Revolucion is going to mean a change for the better. I just hope that they remember us for it. (pause, then lets out another grito)
The spotlight goes out as his yell echoes across the stage. They all leave stage left.
The stage is again dark until the starry sky slowly comes back into view. Across the stage are the silhouettes of desert plants, cacti, and brush.
The sound of heavy breathing slowly becomes audible. As it climbs, footsteps running through the desert can also be heard.
The sound gets louder and louder and is then accompanied by another set of running footsteps. It sounds like the heavy breather is being chased by the second footsteps. They trample through the monte.
Rodriguez shines a spotlight on center stage to reveal Miguel running then coming to a complete stop.
Miguel: What are you doing?! Turn that pinche light off!
Rodriguez: Hey, Parsons! He’s over here!
Miguel: Hey, cabron! I’m one of yours! You’re gonna turn me in?
Rodriguez: I have to.
Miguel: Says who, pendejo?
Rodriguez: It’s my job. I’m sorry.
Miguel: Your job? Don’t give me that. I got my family hiding out in this pinche monte. If I get caught, what are they going to do, huh? They won’t make it alone.
Rodriguez: Then tell me where they are and we’ll get them, too. At least you’ll be together.
Miguel: No mames, guey. Mira, just turn that pinche light off, turn around, and pretend you didn’t see me.
Rodriguez: Too late.
Parsons leaps out of the shadows and tackles Miguel.
Parsons: (punching Miguel) Hey, cah-brone! You’re one fast little bastard, aren’t you? A regular Speedy Gonzalez. Good job, Rodriguez!
Miguel: (looking up at Rodriguez) That’s my last name, too.
Pasrons: Shut up, pen-day-ho. No one said you could talk. Hold the light steady, Rodriguez. Let me get a good look at this one. Look at you. (stands over Miguel) Yeah, definitely a field worker. I can tell from a mile away. Strong like oxes, quick like foxes. You young ones are the hardest to catch. Boy, let me tell ‘ya, I hadn’t seen any action in two nights but you come along and brighten my week. Thanks a lot, amigo. And for putting a smile on my face, you know what your reward’s gonna be? A
Parsons: (cont’d) first class trip back to Ol’ Mexico. How’s that sound?
Parsons laughs and is distracted long enough to allow Miguel to reach up and snag the gun off of his belt. The tables have turned.
Parsons is frozen. Miguel gets up, gun pointed squarely at Parsons.
Parsons: Now, n-now, d-don’t do anything you’ll regret, friend.
You can almost hear Parsons shitting bricks.
Parsons: J-j-just, take it easy, and-
Miguel: Ora que, cabron? Now what? How do you like it, huh? (burying gun into Parson’s forehead) How’s the pinche view now?! Hijo de la chingada! (backs off)
Parsons: Oh, God. Oh, God. God, oh, God. Robriguez. (through his teeth) Shoot this fucking guy! Please don’t kill me, amigo. Please-
Miguel: Look, I’m not going to hurt you. I just want a chance like everyone else. I tried to get into America the legal way, but the paperwork says no. And if there’s one thing I know is that in America paperwork rules. So this is my only chance. I am not a criminal. I am an honest worker. A father and husband. I just want to live a good life. To feed my family. To go out on Saturday nights and watch a pinche movie. What’s wrong with that?
Parsons: Rodriguez! Rodriguez! What are you waiting for? Take this piece of shit out!
Rodriguez is speechless.
Parsons: (furious) Goddamnit, Rodriguez! Shoot this fucking wet!
Rodriguez: I’m afraid I can’t do that, Parsons.
Parsons: What the hell are you talking about?
Rodriguez tosses the light squarely on Parsons.
Parsons: (blinded) What the hell’s the matter with you? I can’t see!
Rodriguez: I can’t see, either. The only thing down there is shadows.
Miguel looks up at Rodriguez and tosses the gun into the brush. Miguel slips away before Parsons can catch him.
Lights out.
A voice speaks in the darkness.
Sasha: Chingado. Is this mic on? Oh, we’re ready? Orale.
A light comes up on a female reporter at the front of the stage. Her name is SASHA DELACRUZ.
Sasha: This is Sasha Delacruz reporting from along the US-Mexico border where a group of American citizens have thought up a creative way to deter illegal aliens from entering the United States. Every night for the past six months, members of this quiet hilltop community park their cars along the edge of this ridge and shine their lights across the border in order to assist the US Border Patrol in spotting wetbacks. “Operation Lite-Brite” as it was been affectionately dubbed has been deemed a success by both community leaders and the Border Patrol.
BORDER PATROL AGENT: (off stage) I tell you, if it wasn’t for the folks up there with their lights on, no tellin’ how many of those wets woulda come through by now. We appreciate all the help we can get.
COMMUNITY MEMBER: (off stage) Those people come up over the hill, into our neighborhoods and rummage through our trash, vandalize our property. My neighbor even caught one man bathing in her fountain. Do you believe that? Savages.
Sasha: The numbers show that illegal immigrant flow in this region has dropped by seventy eight percent since Operation Lite-Brite began, and the community spokeswoman says they won’t be
Sasha: (cont’d) happy until wetback flow is completely stopped. Oh, look. Here they go, about to spark up their lights. Let’s watch…
Car by car, the pairs of headlights come up all along the back of the stage. Quickly, a wall of blinding light is sent over the audience. Sasha exits stage right. When the light becomes unbearable, they simultaneously turn off.
A light then comes up over center stage to reveal Rodriguez sitting in a chair. He wears a cheesy three-piece suit.
The INTERVIEWER will remain as a voice offstage.
Interviewer: Well, Mr. Rodriguez, your scores on the oral examination were some of the highest we’ve seen in a while. And your written scores were admirable as well.
Rodriguez: Thank you. I’ve been preparing for this for years. I’m just glad my hard work paid off.
Interviewer: Yes. Well, we were reviewing your application and noticed that you are a first generation American. And that you parents lived here, illegally, for quite some time.
Rodriguez: Yes, but my father eventually became an American citizen. And I was one since birth, so-
Interviewer: Yes, we understand, Mr. Rodriguez. The only thing that we find curious is the fact that someone with such close ties to Mexico would want to work for the United States Border Patrol.
Rodriguez: Well. It’s just a job. That’s how I see it.
Interviewer: Well, that’s the right attitude to have, Mr. Rodriguez. So, let’s say that, in conversation with your coworkers, one of them refers to a Mexican as a wetback. What would you do?
Rodriguez: Well. That’s a pretty general term. And it gets tossed around quite frequently. I’d have to say I wouldn’t take any offense whatsoever.
Interviewer: How about if the same coworker continued the conversation and referred to Mexicans as greasers?
Rodriguez: Greasers? Gosh. That hasn’t been used for thirty years. I’d have to say I’d probably laugh.
Interviewer: Mmm-hmm. How about, let’s say, spic. How does spic sound to you?
Rodriguez: Look, with all due respect, I’d like to know what this line of questioning has to do with my application to-
Interviewer: Spic, Mr. Rodriguez. Beaner, greaser, wet, fence-jumper, frijolero, illiterate, unclean, drunk-
Rodriguez: Excuse me?
Interviewer: - violent, lazy, ill-mannered, abusive, ignorant, half-breed-
Rodriguez: Hey, hey, hey! I’m having a very difficult time trying to understand what this has to do with my interview!
Interviewer: Don’t worry, Mr. Rodriguez, you’ve done just fine so far. Your reaction up to this point is far better than that of previous interviewees. You’re doing just fine.
Rodriguez: So this, this is part of the examination?
Interviewer: Uh… Yeah. Yes. Of course it is. Now, one last question and we’ll go ahead and let you go.
Rodriguez: Alright.
Interviewer: If given the opportunity, would you allow a wetback to enter the United States? Even knowing that there’d be no way anyone would ever find out?
Rodriguez: As a Border Patrol agent, if I do get the job, I am sworn to protect the nation’s borders. That means putting all sympathies aside focusing only on the defense of my nation, its beliefs, and its border. Does that answer your question?
Interviewer: Yes it does. Thank you, Mr. Rodriguez. You can step out now.
Rodriguez leaves the stage with the chair.
Lights out.
Over the darkness, the sounds of a city fill the air: people talking, cars honking, screeching tires, yelling.
Finally, the sun rises. The yellow-orange glow of a new day fills the sky. The downtown of a border city lines the back of the stage.
Miguel, Inez, and Benito walk along the sidewalk. PASSERBY’S go about their business.
The trio approaches a large statue of Doroteo, which has been tagged, ragged, and is one strong breeze away from falling over.
They look around in awe and confusion.
Benito: This looks a lot like Mexico, pa.
Miguel: I noticed.
Inez: I think you should ask someone how to get to meen-eh-soda.
Miguel: I think you’re right.
Miguel approaches John Martin. He darts through the crowd trying to make as little physical contact as possible.
Miguel: Perdon, senor. Como llego a meen-eh-soda?
John: You darn people. What, what do you want, say-nor?
Miguel: Como llego a meen-eh-soda?
John: You what? You want a soda? Sorry, amigo, no hablo Espanol. I’ve got to go.
Miguel: (broken English) But I know a little Eng-
John walks away.
Miguel: Chingado. He’s darker than me and he doesn’t know Spanish.
Penquena approaches with a badass chola stroll.
Miguel: Senorita, me puede alludar en-
Pequena: (grabs Miguel) Get the fuck away from me, pinche mojado. I can’t even walk this street anymore without you cabrones all over me, goddamnit.
She shoves Miguel out of the way and continues down the sidewalk.
Inez: Mira, Miguel. There’s a woman who looks like us.
Linda picks fruit from a nearby vegetable cart.
Miguel: Senora. Perdon, but can you please tell me how to get to meen-eh-soda.
Linda: Minnesota. I have family there, mijo. Dios mio, I haven’t seen them in years. Oh, but you want to know how to get there? Well, it’s up north. A good three day trip by car. Two by bus.
Miguel: Three? Three days? Are you sure?
Linda: Yes, mijo. Why? Do you have family there, too?
Miguel: Thank you. Yes, well- no, no I don’t. But thank you, senora.
Linda: Si, mijo. Que dios los bendiga.
Miguel returns to Inez and Benito.
Inez: Look at how the people are dressed here! Aren’t they strange?
Benito: They all look like movie stars!
Miguel: Si. Si. Inez, we’re a long way from minee-sota.
Inez: How far?
Miguel: Far enough to where I don’t know if we’ll make it.
Inez: How far, Miguel?
Miguel: Three days by car, the woman said.
Inez: We don’t have a car.
Miguel: I know.
They stand and watch the new world around them.
Inez: Here we are. (pause) Back there on the train, when we almost got split up. Dios mio, Miguel. That was the worst feeling of my life. To think that I’d be up here alone with mijo. And… pero for one little moment, I thought about you staying behind and I thought of all that I could do to get by here in America. And you know what, it was scary, Miguel. It was really scary, but I never lost
Inez: (cont’d) hope. Nunca. I didn’t care what it took, I knew… I just knew I had to fight. But then, thanks to el destino, o Diosito, o la Virgencita, or maybe just our love, you caught up to the train and you jumped in. And I’m grateful. We came this far, Miguel. There’s no use in turning back now.
Miguel hugs Inez tightly.
Miguel: We’ll figure something out.
Inez: I know.
Miguel: Right now we have (reaches in pocket and counts money), eight hundred dollars. You hungry, mijo?
Benito: Si.
Miguel: Let’s go find something to eat. And then, let’s go find a place where we can watch a movie.
Inez: A movie, Miguel?
Miguel: Claro que si. Something funny and romantic.
Happy-ending music to a movie swells in the background. The family walks down the street together as the music and lights go out.
Two flashlights scour the stage. It’s Parsons and Rodriguez.
Parsons: You did it this time, Rodriguez. Not only did you put my life in danger, but you allowed a whole family of wets to illegally enter the United States. You’re in a world of shit now, amigo.
Rodriguez ignores Parsons.
Parsons: Are you listening, Rodriguez? You’re gonna-
Rodriguez: I don’t care, Parsons. I really don’t.
What are we doing here? Huh? Who are we protecting? What are we protecting?
Parsons: Our interests.
Rodriguez: Our interests? How can we allow American businesses to set up shop just on the other side of the border so they can rob the people of their land and their dignity?
Rodriguez: (cont’d) If those are our interests then consider me wholly uninterested.
Parsons: You’ve lost it, man. You’ve gone completely ape-shit. Those businesses are the only thing putting food in those people’s mouths. But that’s not even the issue here. The issue is that we were sworn to protect-
Rodriguez: Sworn to protect, sworn to protect. Is that all you care about? An oath, a word, that on its own is worth less than the air it occupies?
Parsons: It’s my job, amigo. And yours, too.
Rodriguez: It’s not my job, Parsons. Not anymore.
Parsons: (incredulously) Fuck this. You’re- this- you… Fuck this! I got a night’s worth of paperwork to fill thanks to you, asshole.
Parsons walks off stage.
Rodriguez begins to walk away, but a BOY’S voice calls to him. He can barely hear it over the rushing water nearby.
Boy: Ayudenme! Ayudenme!
At this point, the lights go out on stage but projected on the back wall will be the following images which will be accompanied by voices and sound FX offstage.
Still #1: The Boy is clinging to a tree limb. The river’s current is strong and the boy can barely hold on.
Rodriguez: (approaching boy) Que paso?
Boy: Mi familia, senor!
Still #2: Rodriguez tries to reach Boy with a stick.
Rodriguez: Grab the stick!
Boy: No puedo! No puedo!
Still #3: The river is still churning around the Boy. Rodriguez wades in help him.
Rodriguez: I’m coming. Esperame.
Boy: Ayudeme, senor!
Still #4: Rodriguez maintains himself by holding on to the limb the Boy is on.
Still #5: Rodriguez reaches the boy.
Rodriguez: I got you. I got you.
The Boy is crying.
Still #6: Rodriguez carries the boy back to shore.
Still #7: Rodriguez lets the Boy down and he scurries up the shore.
Still #8: An empty industrial barrel comes floating down river. Rodriguez doesn’t see it…
Still #9: The barrel blindsides Rodriguez and knocks him out cold.
Still #10: He floats down river, lifeless. The Boy yells after him.
The projector goes out and the moonlight comes up to find the weeping Boy huddled on center stage.
Like a ghost, Diego appears and stand over the Boy.
Diego: Que paso, nino.
Boy: Mi familia was swimming across, senor. Pero se los llevo la corriente and they all died. Mami, y papi, y Pedrito.
Diego: How did you make it?
Boy: I grabbed a tree and waited for some one to help me. A Border man came and got me, but he fell in, too. Ahora esta muerto.
Diego: Are you hungry, mijo?
Boy: What am I going to do? What am I going to do?
Diego: Are you hungry?
Boy: (pause) Si.
Diego: Come on. I’ll find us some food.
Diego picks the Boy up and carries him in his arms. A light illuminates the back of the stage. It forms a silhouette of tired, hunched bodies walking along the horizon.
Diego and the Boy head in that direction.
Lights out.
The End
