Ruined.

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RUINED
BY LYNN NOTTAGE

★
DRAMATISTS
PLAY SERVICE
INC.
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RUINED
Copyright © 2010, Lynn Nottage
All Rights Reserved

CAUTION: Professionals and amateurs are hereby warned that performance of RUINED
is subject to payment of a royalty. It is fully protected under the copyright laws of the
United States of America, and of all countries covered by the International Copyright
Union (including the Dominion of Canada and the rest of the British Commonwealth),
and of all countries covered by the Pan-American Copyright Convention, the Universal
Copyright Convention, the Berne Convention, and of all countries with which the United
States has reciprocal copyright relations. All rights, including without limitation profession-
al/amateur stage rights, motion picture, recitation, lecturing, public reading, radio broad-
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vate and file-sharing networks, information storage and retrieval systems, photocopying,
and the rights of translation into foreign languages are strictly reserved. Particular empha-
sis is placed upon the matter of readings, permission for which must be secured from the
Author’s agent in writing.

The English language stock and amateur stage performance rights in the United States, its
territories, possessions and Canada for RUINED are controlled exclusively by DRAMA-
TISTS PLAY SERVICE, INC., 440 Park Avenue South, New York, NY 10016. No pro-
fessional or nonprofessional performance of the Play may be given without obtaining in
advance the written permission of DRAMATISTS PLAY SERVICE, INC., and paying
the requisite fee.

Inquiries concerning all other rights should be addressed to Creative Artists Agency, 162
Fifth Avenue, 6th Floor, New York, NY 10010. Attn: Olivier Sultan and Corinne Hayoun.
SPECIAL NOTE
Anyone receiving permission to produce RUINED is required to give credit to the Author
as sole and exclusive Author of the Play on the title page of all programs distributed in
connection with performances of the Play and in all instances in which the title of the Play
appears for purposes of advertising, publicizing or otherwise exploiting the Play and/or a
production thereof. The name of the Author must appear on a separate line, in which no
other name appears, immediately beneath the title and in size of type equal to 50% of the
size of the largest, most prominent letter used for the title of the Play. No person, firm or
entity may receive credit larger or more prominent than that accorded the Author. The
following acknowledgments must appear on the title page in all programs distributed in
connection with performances of the Play, and in all advertising and publicity of one-half
page or larger, in size of type not less than 25% of the size of the largest, most prominent
letter used for the title of Play:

The World Premiere of RUINED was produced by

The Goodman Theatre
Robert Falls, Artistic Director Roche Schulfer, Executive Producer
and Manhattan Theatre Club
Lynne Meadow, Artistic Director Barry Grove, Executive Producer

RUINED was commissioned by The Goodman Theatre.

SPECIAL NOTE ON MUSIC
A CD containing the sheet music and recorded music is required for production. The cost
is $20.00, plus shipping and handling. The nonprofessional fee for the use of this music
is $25.00 per performance.

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RUINED received its world premiere at The Goodman Theatre in

Chicago, Illinois, on November 8, 2008. It was coproduced by The
Goodman Theatre (Robert Falls, Artistic Director; Roche Schulfer,
Executive Producer) and Manhattan Theatre Club (Lynne Meadow,
Artistic Director; Barry Grove, Executive Producer). It was directed
by Kate Whoriskey; the set design was by Derek McLane; the cos-
tume design was by Paul Tazewell; the lighting design was by Peter
Kaczorowski; the sound design was by Michael Bodeen and Rob
Milburn; the original music was by Dominic Kanza with lyrics by
Lynn Nottage; the production stage manager was Kimberly
Osgood. The cast was as follows:

SALIMA ................................................... Quincy Tyler Bernstine

JOSEPHINE ........................................................ Cherise Boothe
JEROME KISEMBE/SOLDIER ............................... Chris Chalk
MAMA NADI ........................................... Saidah Arrika Ekulona
SIMON/SOLDIER/MINER/
AID WORKER ...................................... William Jackson Harper
FORTUNE/SOLDIER/MINER .......................... Chiké Johnson
CHRISTIAN ................................................ Russell Gebert Jones
COMMANDER OSEMBENGA/SOLDIER ........ Kevin Mambo
MR. HARARI ................................................... Tom Mardirosian
PASCAL/SOLDIER ........................................... Ali Amin Carter
SOPHIE ............................................................. Condola Rashad

The Goodman Theatre/Manhattan Theatre Club coproduction of

RUINED subsequently opened Off-Broadway in New York City at
City Center Stage I on February 10, 2009. The production stage
manager was Donald Fried; the assistant stage manager was Alison
DeSantis. The cast remained the same, with the exception of:

PASCAL/SOLDIER .................................................. Ron McBee

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CHARACTERS

SALIMA
JOSEPHINE
JEROME KISEMBE
MAMA NADI
SIMON
FORTUNE
CHRISTIAN
COMMANDER OSEMBENGA
MR. HARARI
LAURENT
SOPHIE
AID WORKER
SOLDIERS
MINERS

PLACE

A small mining town in the

Democratic Republic of the Congo.

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RUINED
ACT ONE

Scene 1

A small mining town. The sounds of the tropical Ituri rain

forest. Democratic Republic of the Congo.

A bar with makeshift furniture and a rundown pool table. A

lot of effort has gone into making the worn bar cheerful. A
stack of plastic washtubs rests in the corner. An old car bat-
tery powers the lights and audio system, a covered bird cage
conspicuously sits in the corner of the room.

Mama Nadi, early forties, an attractive woman with an arro-

gant stride and majestic air, watches Christian, early forties,
a perpetually cheerful traveling salesman, knock back a
Fanta. His good looks have been worn down by hard living
on the road. He wears a suit that might have been considered
stylish when new, but it’s now nearly ten years old and overly
loved. He brushes travel dust from his clothing, and takes a
generous sip of his soda.

CHRISTIAN. Ah. Cold. The only cold Fanta in twenty-five kilo-

meters. You don’t know how good this tastes. (Mama flashes a
warm, flirtatious smile, then pours herself a Primus beer.)
MAMA. And where the hell have you been?
CHRISTIAN. It was no easy task getting here.
MAMA. I’ve been expecting you for the last three weeks. How am
I supposed do business? No soap, no cigarettes, no condoms. Not

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even a half liter of petrol for the generator.

CHRISTIAN. Why are you picking a fight with me already? I
didn’t create this damn chaos. Nobody, and I’m telling you,
nobody could get through on the main road. Every two kilometers
a boy with a Kalashnikov and pockets that need filling. Toll, tax,
tariff. They invent reasons to lighten your load.
MAMA. Then why does Mr. Harari always manage to get through?
CHRISTIAN. Mr. Harari doesn’t bring you things you need, does
he? Mr. Harari has interests that supercede his safety. Me, I still
hope to have a family one day. (Christian laughs, heartily.)
MAMA. And my lipstick?
CHRISTIAN. Your lipstick? Aye! Did you ask me for lipstick?
MAMA. Of course, I did, you idiot!
CHRISTIAN. Look at the way you speak to me, Chérie. Comment
est-ce possible? You should be happy I made it here in one piece.
(Christian produces a tube of lipstick from his pocket.) Play nice or I’ll
give this to Josephine. She knows how to show her appreciation.
MAMA. Yes, but you always take home a little more than you ask
for with Josephine. I hope you know how to use a condom.
(Christian laughs.)
CHRISTIAN. Are you jealous?
MAMA. Leave me alone, you’re too predictable. (Mama turns
away, dismissive.)
CHRISTIAN. Where are you going? Hey, hey what are you doing?
(Teasingly.) Chérie, I know you wanted me to forget, so you could
yell at me, but you won’t get the pleasure this time. (Christian taunts
her with the lipstick. Mama resists the urge to smile.)
MAMA. Oh shut up and give it to me. (He passes her the lipstick.)
Thank you, Christian.
CHRISTIAN. I didn’t hear you —
MAMA. Don’t press your luck. And it better be red. (Mama grabs
a sliver of a broken mirror from behind the rough-hewn bar, and
gracefully applies the lipstick.)
CHRISTIAN. You don’t have to say it. I know you want a husband.
MAMA. Like a hole in my head.
CHRISTIAN. (Reciting.)
What, is this love?
An unexpected wind,
A fluctuation,
Fronting the coming of a storm.

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Resolve, a thorny bush

Blown asunder and swept away
There, Chérie. I give you a poem in lieu of the kiss you won’t allow
me. (Christian laughs, warmly. Mama puts out a bowl of peanuts.)
MAMA. Here. I saved you some groundnuts, Professor.
CHRISTIAN. That’s all you saved for me?
MAMA. Be smart, and I’ll show you the door in one second.
(Mama scolds him with her eyes.)
CHRISTIAN. Ach, ach … why are you wearing my Grandmama’s
face? (Christian mocks her expression. Mama laughs and downs her
beer.)
MAMA. You sure you don’t want a beer?
CHRISTIAN. You know me better than that, Chérie, I haven’t had
a drop of liquor in four years.
MAMA. (Teasing.) It’s cold.
CHRISTIAN. Tst! (Christian cracks open a few peanuts, and play-
fully pops them into his mouth. The parrot squawks.) What’s there? In
the cage?
MAMA. Oh, that, a grey parrot. Old Papa Batunga passed.
CHRISTIAN. When?
MAMA. Last Thursday. No one wanted the damn bird. It complains
too much.
CHRISTIAN. (Amused.) Yeah, what does it say? (Christian walks
to the birdcage, and peers under the covering.)
MAMA. Who the hell knows? It speaks pygmy. He … Old Papa
was the last of his tribe. That stupid bird was the only thing he had
left to talk to.
CHRISTIAN. (To bird.) Hello?
MAMA. He believed as long as the words of the forest people were
spoken the spirits would stay alive.
CHRISTIAN. For true? (Christian pokes his finger into the cage. To
Mama.) What are you going to do with him?
MAMA. Sell it. I don’t want it. It stinks. (Christian pokes at the
birdcage.)
CHRISTIAN. (To bird.) Hello.
MAMA. Hey, hey don’t put your fingers in there.
CHRISTIAN. Look. He likes me. So Mama, you haven’t asked me
what else I’ve brought for you? Go see. (Christian quickly withdraws
his finger.) Ow. Shit. He bit me.
MAMA. Well, you shouldn’t be messing with it. (Mama laughs.)

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CHRISTIAN. Ow, damn it.

MAMA. (Impatiently.) Don’t be a crybaby, what did you bring me?
Well? … Are you going to keep me guessing?
CHRISTIAN. Go on. Take a peek in the truck. And don’t say I
don’t think about you. (Mama smiles.)
MAMA. How many?
CHRISTIAN. Three.
MAMA. Three? But, I can’t use three right now. You know that.
CHRISTIAN. Of course you can. And I’ll give you a good price
if you take all of them. (Mama goes to the doorway, and peers out at
the offerings, unimpressed.)
MAMA. I don’t know. They look used. Worn.
CHRISTIAN. C’mon, Mama. Take another look. A full look. You’ve
said it yourself business is good. (Mama considers, then finally.)
MAMA. Okay, one. That one in front. (Points into the distance.)
CHRISTIAN. Three. C’mon, don’t make me travel back with them.
MAMA. Just one. How much?
CHRISTIAN. Do you know how difficult it was getting here? The
road was completely washed out —
MAMA. All right, all right. I don’t need the whole damn saga. Just
tell me, how much for the one?
CHRISTIAN. The same as usual plus twenty-five, because …
because … You understand it wasn’t easy to get here with the —
MAMA. I’ll give you fifteen.
CHRISTIAN. Ahh! Fifteen? No. That’s nothing. Twenty-two.
C’mon.
MAMA. Twenty. My best offer. (Christian mulls it over. He’s reluctant.)
CHRISTIAN. Aye. Okay. Okay. Damn it. Yes. Yes. But I expect
another cold Fanta. One from the bottom this time. (Christian,
defeated, exits. Mama smiles victoriously, and retrieves another soda
from the refrigerator. She reapplies lipstick for good measure, then counts
out her money. Christian reenters proudly bearing two cartons of
Ugandan cigarettes. A moment later two women in ragged clothing step
tentatively into the bar: Sophie, a luminous beauty with an air of defi-
ance, and Salima, a sturdy peasant woman whose face betrays a world
weariness. They hold hands. Mama studies the women, then — )
MAMA. I said one. That one. (She points to Sophie.)
CHRISTIAN. It’s been a good week, and I’ll tell you what, I’ll give
you two for the price of one. Why not?
MAMA. Are you deaf? No. Tst! I don’t need two more mouths to

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feed and pester me. (Mama continues to examine each woman.)

CHRISTIAN. Take both. Feed them as one. Please, Mama, I’ll
throw in the cigarettes for cost.
MAMA. But, I’ll only pay for one.
CHRISTIAN. Of course. We agree, why are we arguing?
MAMA. (Yelling.) Josephine! Josephine! Where is that stupid
woman? (Josephine, a sexy woman in a short Western-style miniskirt
and high heels, appears in the beaded doorway. She surveys the new
women with obvious contempt.) Take them out back. Get them
washed and some proper clothing.
JOSEPHINE. Njoo. [Come.] (Beat.) Sasa. [Quick.] (Josephine
beckons to the women. They reluctantly follow.)
MAMA. Wait. (Mama gestures to Salima, who clings to Sophie.) You.
Come here. (Salima doesn’t move.) Come. (Salima clings to Sophie,
then slowly walks toward Mama.) What’s your name?
SALIMA. (Whispers.) Salima.
MAMA. What?
SALIMA. Salima. (Mama examines Salima’s rough hands.)
MAMA. Rough. (With disdain.) A digger. We’ll have to do some-
thing about that. (Salima yanks her hand away. Mama registers the bold
gesture.) And you, come. You’re a pretty thing, what’s your name?
SOPHIE. (Gently.) Sophie.
MAMA. Do you have a smile?
SOPHIE. Yes.
MAMA. Then let me see it. (Sophie struggles to find a defiant smile.)
Good. Go get washed up. (A moment.)
JOSEPHINE. (Snaps.) C’mon, now! (Salima looks to Sophie. She fol-
lows. The women follow behind Josephine. Sophie walks with some pain.)
MAMA. Did you at least tell them this time?
CHRISTIAN. Yes. They know and they came willingly.
MAMA. And — ?
CHRISTIAN. Salima is from a tiny village. No place really. She
was captured by rebel soldiers, Mayi-mayi; the poor thing spent
nearly five months in the bush as their concubine.
MAMA. And what of her people?
CHRISTIAN. She says her husband is a farmer, and from what I
understand, her village won’t have her back. Because … But she’s
a simple girl, she doesn’t have much learning, I wouldn’t worry
about her.
MAMA. And the other?

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RUINED
by Lynn Nottage
WINNER OF THE 2009 PULITZER PRIZE

8M, 4W (doubling)

From Lynn Nottage, the Pulitzer Prize–winning author of such plays as

Fabulation and Intimate Apparel, comes this haunting, probing work about
the resilience of the human spirit during times of war. Set in a small mining
town in Democratic Republic of the Congo, this powerful play follows
Mama Nadi, a shrewd businesswoman in a land torn apart by civil war. But
is she protecting or profiting by the women she shelters? How far will she
go to survive? Can a price be placed on a human life?

“RUINED takes us inside an unthinkable reality and into the heads of victims
and perpetrators to create a full-immersion drama of shocking complexity and
moral ambiguity. What’s more surprising is the exquisite balance the playwright
brings — of brutality and poetry, hope and even humor.” —Variety

“Strong and absorbing … a raw and genuine agony pulses within … a cleareyed
celebration of endurance.” —The New York Times

“Sincere, passionate, courageous and acutely argued, RUINED is a remarkable

theatrical accomplishment …” —The Chicago Tribune

“In the hands of this talented playwright, what might have been a predictable
political polemic instead emerges as a richly stirring and complex drama that
even includes generous doses of humor.” —The New York Post

Also by Lynn Nottage

FABULATION OR,
THE RE-EDUCATION OF UNDINE
INTIMATE APPAREL
LAS MENINAS
and others

DRAMATISTS PLAY SERVICE, INC.