The Final Push Scene Excerpt

ACT ONE

Scene Two

(On the way to the village assembly grounds. Ncweekye and Murungi appear first)

Ncweekye: Listen, Murungi. I don’t like this, but I am merely fulfilling my duty.

Murungi: Which duty?

Ncweekye: I am your aunt, your father’s sister, remember? I am entrusted with the duty of
preparing you for your coming marriage to old man Maguunda. I am sure your
father has told you about it.

Murungi: I am not marrying Maguunda! He’s old enough to be my grandfather.

Ncweekye: Listen, my child, if we questioned each happening in our own lives, we would not
have a sane life. Look at me (Indicating her blackened cheek) Do you think I like
being beaten by my husband, Mirengye? (Murungi shrugs her shoulders) I don’t
like it at all, but I have nothing to do.

Murungi: I think you have something to do. Leave him and go.

Ncweekye: I wish it was that easy. He paid numerous cows to make me his wife. I can’t go
anywhere, now.

Murungi: But you can go somewhere. Ndagaano has told us of Women’s groups which work
with women like you.

Ncweekye: The problem with you is that you think too much, and question too much. You
will make a bad wife for Maguunda.

Murungi: But I said I am not marrying the old man, only over my dead body! And that is
one of the reasons we are going to the village grounds.


(Voices are heard, and groups of women arrive wearing their shoulder cloths, and
kitambi materials. The poorer women wear old tattered dresses, with torn head
scarfs barely covering their heads. Some have been in their gardens, as evidenced by
their muddy feet, hoes and baskets. They start a song)

All: Today is the day
In truth it is the one
We want you to listen
Ye-e-es!
Because this is the time
For woman to speak and be heard
Ye-e-es!

Ngaimukine: Thank you! You all know why we came?

Murungi: Yes, to say no to my planned marriage to wrinkles. (some women laugh, while
others shake their heads. Ncweekye goes over to Murungi, and presses her
shoulders to quieten her)

Ngaimukine: Good, we are here to say no to the ancient wisdom which keeps women in chains.
The secret has spilt from the sacred pots, and we can no longer be mere
spectators as our voice is gagged.(Murungi casts Ncweekye a probing eye) We
shall walk from here to Mashaku, through the valley of Nyamirama to Kayenje,
and back to Migina.

Kenduuru: Aha, will the round-bellied like me manage such a long way? I think this is fit for
people like Ncweekye, who have never experienced the pain of child birth!

Ncweekye: Kenduuru, don’t pass my name through your mouth. Who said that because I
have never given birth, I have to be insulted at any opportunity.

Kenduuru: You have to understand that Mirengye has turned you into his punching bag,
because you have never given birth!

Ncweekye: What about you, producer of restless feet? Has you husband given you a better
reward for giving birth to the unwanted sex? Aha-a-a!

(casts Kenduuru a look of hatred)

Ngaimukine: Enough! We did not come here to be mouthpieces of our village men’s thoughts.
We are all sisters here, whether mothers or not. Violence knows no limits, rape
knows no fertile or infertile wombs, and child marriages reap disaster for every
girl sacrificed. So, let’s talk like women who have been hurt by the practices in
this village, and not as rivals. Do I speak for all?

All: Ye-es!

Ngaimukine: Good. Now why don’t we start with the dance of unity, before we go? (the
women start arranging themselves in a semi-circle. They quickly start the
Kikiga dance, as a prelude to the march)

All: How is at your home?
Mother, how is it at your home?
Tell me, how is at your home?
Our home has no peace
How is at your home?
Is it really peaceful at your home?
How is at your home?

(As they clap and dance, Kabanda runs in and throw himself in the middle of the
semi-circle. There is an abrupt stop)

Kabanda: (gasping for breath) Ahu, ehu-u-u-! You women!

Murungi: What’s the matter, Kabanda? We hate being interrupted rudely!

Ngaimukine: Speak up, Kabanda!

All: What’s wrong, Kabanda?

Kabanda: (getting up) You have just a few counts on my fingers (counting fingers) to
disappear from here.

Ngaimukine: Kabanda, this is treachery. Since when did you start giving us orders?

Kabanda: It is er-er- it’s not me, but you must disappear.

Kenduuru: And if we don’t?

Kabanda: Then Chief Yahaya will have you pay with your skins. He wants you to stop the
crazy march.

Ngaimukine: I can’t believe we are being betrayed by our own son. Kabanda, aren’t you the
one who carried the message around to the women?

Voices: (shouting at cross-purposes) Yes, he came to…and me too, e-e, found me in the
garden!

Ngaimukine: Let’s have some sanity. Are you saying that Chief Yahaya says we should go
away? Is this a joke?

Kabanda: Ngaimukine, I never joke in the matters concerning the Chief. Nobody jokes with
the Chief and goes away unpunished.

All: Liar, traitor!

Kabanda: Let me make myself clear. It is true you sent the message through me, and
indeed I delivered it.

Murungi: What sense can we make out of your words?

Kabanda: Murungi, you should know better that when you finally marry the man your
father wants, your loud mouth must shut up!

Ngaimukine: Kabanda, don’t irritate us more. We are here to condemn evils like the marriage
of young girls, what sense are you making to our cause, now?

Kabanda: That I have overstayed my visit. The Chief must now attack your stubborn
heads. And don’t say I never warned you!

Kenduuru: A horrible death upon you!

Murungi: Maggots…

All: Rotting pus!

(The women agitate. There is noise in the nearby bushes, and general commotion. The
women are surrounded by strong male youths, armed with fighting sticks and spears.
Some women try to fight them off, while others wail. The crowd is soon dispersed, as the
lights fade out).


(play continues…)

Adapted from The Final Push, a 46-page gender-based drama written by Rosemary K

For inquiries and performance rights, email rosemaryk@odesk.com

© Rosemary K., 2008, All Rights Reserved.