Raisin in the Sun - Lorraine Hansberry [19]
MAMA (Worriedly hovering over RUTH) Ruth honey—what’s the matter with you—you sick?
(RUTH has her fists clenched on her thighs and is fighting hard to suppress a scream that seems to be rising in her)
BENEATHA What’s the matter with her, Mama?
MAMA (Working her fingers in RUTH’S shoulders to relax her) She be all right. Women gets right depressed sometimes when they get her way. (Speaking softly, expertly, rapidly) Now you just relax. That’s right … just lean back, don’t think ’bout nothing at all … nothing at all—
RUTH I’m all right …
(The glassy-eyed look melts and then she collapses into a fit of heavy sobbing. The bell rings)
BENEATHA Oh, my God—that must be Asagai.
MAMA (To RUTH) Come on now, honey. You need to lie down and rest awhile … then have some nice hot food.
(They exit, RUTH’S weight on her mother-in-law. BENEATHA, herself profoundly disturbed, opens the door to admit a rather dramatic-looking young man with a large package)
ASAGAI Hello, Alaiyo—
BENEATHA (Holding the door open and regarding him with pleasure) Hello … (Long pause) Well—come in. And please excuse everything. My mother was very upset about my letting anyone come here with the place like this.
ASAGAI (Coming into the room) You look disturbed too … Is something wrong?
BENEATHA (Still at the door, absently) Yes … we’ve all got acute ghetto-itis. (She smiles and comes toward him, finding a cigarette and sitting) So—sit down! No! Wait! (She whips the spray gun off sofa where she had left it and puts the cushions back. At last perches on arm of sofa. He sits) So, how was Canada?
ASAGAI (A sophisticate) Canadian.
BENEATHA (Looking at him) Asagai, I’m very glad you are back.
ASAGAI (Looking back at her in turn) Are you really?
BENEATHA Yes—very.
ASAGAI Why?—you were quite glad when I went away. What happened?
BENEATHA You went away.
ASAGAI Ahhhhhhhh.
BENEATHA Before—you wanted to be so serious before there was time.
ASAGAI How much time must there be before one knows what one feels?
BENEATHA (Stalling this particular conversation. Her hands pressed together, in a deliberately childish gesture) What did you bring me?
ASAGAI (Handing her the package) Open it and see.
BENEATHA (Eagerly opening the package and drawing out some records and the colorful robes of a Nigerian woman) Oh, Asagai! … You got them for me! … How beautiful … and the records too! (She lifts out the robes and runs to the mirror with them and holds the drapery up in front of herself)
ASAGAI (Coming to her at the mirror) I shall have to teach you how to drape it properly. (He flings the material about her for the moment and stands back to look at her) Ah—Oh-pay-gay-day, oh-gbah-mu-shay. (A Yoruba exclamation for admiration) You wear it well … very well … mutilated hair and all.
BENEATHA (Turning suddenly) My hair—what’s wrong with my hair?
ASAGAI (Shrugging) Were you born with it like that?
BENEATHA (Reaching up to touch it) No … of course not.
(She looks back to the mirror, disturbed)
ASAGAI (Smiling) How then?
BENEATHA YOU know perfectly well how … as crinkly as yours … that’s how.
ASAGAI And it is ugly to you that way?
BENEATHA (Quickly) Oh, no—not ugly … (More slowly, apologetically) But it’s so hard to manage when it’s, well—raw.
ASAGAI And so to accommodate that—you mutilate it every week?
BENEATHA It’s not mutilation!
ASAGAI (Laughing aloud at her seriousness) Oh … please! I am only teasing you because you are so very serious about these things. (He stands back from her and folds his arms across his chest as he watches her pulling at her hair and frowning in the mirror) Do you remember the first time you met me at school? … (He laughs) You came up to me and you said—and I thought you were the most serious little thing I had ever seen—you said: (He imitates her) “Mr. Asagai—I want very much to talk with you. About Africa. You see, Mr. Asagai, I am looking for my identity!”
(He laughs)
BENEATHA (Turning to him, not laughing) Yes—
(Her face is quizzical, profoundly disturbed)
ASAGAI (Still teasing and reaching out and