First all-cast rehearsal!

A few moments from today that I'd like to share with you:

Walking back after lunch Mew asked me what 'fistula' is. The word is in her Monologue, the new one about the Congo. I explained it's a medical word, but a hugely social issue. I carefully told her how it's usually caused by prolonged child-birth by very young girls. I watched her reactions carefully to be sure she understood, as I told her how they can't control themselves and leak urine and feces uncontrollably. I explained how even more horrifically than usual, fistula is one of the huge problems in the DRC because of the especially terrorizing way that women and children are being raped. I wasn't quite sure she understood, because she was looking at me so intently as we dodged Bangkok traffic. Then she started to cry. So I started to tear up. She understood in a very real way. Mew is a travel agent, but tells me her passion would be to work with women in the U.N.

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The after lunch stupor sets in and the BKK heat, while apparently very 'cold' these days (the paper yesterday listed the expected high at 90 degrees Fahrenheit), is still enough to bring the energy down. I'm glad to see I'm not the only one sweating. Everyone is leaning against the walls, but independently Yvonne and the woman doing 'Village' are practicing their Monologues. They mouth the words, drifting gracefully across the 'stage'. I am struck by this.

'My Vagina was my Village' chronicles horrific rape while Yvonne's is 'I was there in the room' a squishy Monologue about the miracle of life and full of 'vaginal wonder' Rape and birth, two universals, two near opposites, though sometimes tragically overlapping. They are both earnest and non-dramatic, and I don't think anyone else is noticing. But seeing raw-pained survival and cherished re-birth quietly side by side, co-existing, gives me chills in a way I cannot quite describe. It is a quiet, beautiful (and feels to me) loaded moment.

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I'd heard that Sonoko's was powerful- Alanna had cried during her audition though she understood none of the words. But even so, I wasn't quite prepared for the total raw power and pain of her 'Say it' Half Japanese herself, the piece is about the Comfort Women. It's a rehearsal, yet she pours everything into it.

Raw is the only way to describe her fury and overwhelming grief. And strength. A tear clings stubbornly to her chin, and I think about the layers of bravery. Her bravery to respond so, to access those emotions and to let them twist her face and lash out in her voice which goes from quiet sighs to animalistic screams for justice. The howl. The bravery of the woman whose story it really is- is she still alive? Is she still picketing the Japanese embassy in Milan? Dry leaves blow across the floor.

I am crying though I understand none of the words, and I look around and the majority of the cast is as well, though many don't understand Thai. Mere moments later we are all laughing, though the tears aren't even dry yet; this is the power of the Monologues.