THE BORN FREE

THE CHARACTERS

MR RAKUTU : A wealthy property entrepreneur, owner of

A company named Settlement Solutions, and

Father to Obed and Dudu

MRS RAKUTU : Owner of an upmarket women’s clothing

boutique

OBED and DUDU : Twin brother and sister, Rakutus’ children

MIDY : The Rakutus’ housekeeper

CHIEF MODAFI : The chief of Thwethweng

MRS MODAFI : Chief Modafi’s wife, also known as Moloko

MAPULA MATLOROMA : District Municipal Manager

PEBETSE MOGALE : Local Municipal Manager

GEOGE RAKWIRI : Mrs Rakutu’s old secret lover

MAESELA : Also called Maisi, Mr Rakutu’s driver

JOZI : The Rakutus’ general purpose man

FANTA : Dudu’s boyfriend

MRS BERNICE BERLIN : Chief Executive Officer of People’s Creations

DR LEBETHA : Company Director of People’s Creations

REMOAMOGETŠE : Winner of Mall Design Competition

ACT I SCENE I

Inside a five bed-roomed house built in the suburb of Sunset Park, in the city of Polokwane, north of Limpopo Province, South Africa. The time is 10 a.m. on a Saturday. Mr and Mrs Rakutu are having breakfast in the lounge. Mrs Rakutu is catching up on the past week’s soapies while Mr Rakutu is scrolling up and down his tablet, catching up on the news. The humming sound of the electric lawn mower is coming in through the open, floor-to-ceiling, and corner-to-corner walk-in glass-and-aluminium window. After a while, Mr Rakutu covers his tablet with its flap and sits back, with his large coffee mug in his left hand. After a few moments, he pours the last of his coffee down his throat and puts the mug on the side table on the left-hand side of his reclining sofa. Then he pulls back the sofa lever with his left hand, making the sofa recline further. He interlocks his fingers behind the back of his head and takes a deep breath. Then he exhales loudly.

MRS RAKUTU : A penny for your thoughts…

MR RAKUTU : Are they not yet awake?

MRS RAKUTU : You mean the children? Of course, they are awake. You know they like to go through their phones for

messages before they get up. It’s a daily ritual, you

know.

MR RAKUTU : The brats. They’re so rotten-spoilt! You should stop

pampering them. They are twenty-eight years

old and still at school. On top of that, they don’t look

anywhere near finishing schooling. I had already

acquired four years’ work experience at their age!

With two degrees nogal! And what have they got?

Nothing! No qualification of any kind, not even a hope

that they will make it at the end of the year, or any other year that follows afterwards

MRS RAKUTU : Stop working yourself up, my dear. You will soon

acquire a heart condition. And stop calling them brats.

They are just a couple of innocent kids who love life.

MR RAKUTU : Innocent, my foot! Who doesn’t love life? You give them a lot of freedom and that’s why they lack even a modicum of restraint. Are you even sure that they are in the house?

MRS RAKUTU : Of course they are. They even said their goodnights

last night.

MR RAKUTU : Remember last Saturday they said their goodnights

and we had to retrieve them from the neighbours’ on

the following Sunday?

MRS RAKUTU : But our neighbours had the noisiest party that evening

and none of us was able to sleep a wink. The poor

kids couldn’t help themselves.

MR RAKUTU : That wasn’t the only time. It happens all the time. You

are simply on a denial trip about these children. You

don’t want to accept that our children are not good at

anything. They don’t want to study, they don’t want to

do their chores, they don’t want to do anything, and

they can’t do anything!

MRS RAKUTU : Hawu, my dear! Can’t do anything?! Aren’t they able

to drive? Aren’t they able to cook?

MR RAKUTU : They can only do what gives them pleasure.

Remember that we taught them to drive purely out of

necessity. And you talk about cooking? Why isn’t there

a delicious aroma of food whenever they are cooking?

You made Obed cook the ox liver only the other day

and it tasted like rubber. Dudu’s gravy always tastes

like she’s been washing dishes in it. Yuck! Obed can’t

fix anything around the house, and he calls a

screwdriver a spanner! I still can’t believe he cannot

operate the lawnmower. I can’t even forgive him for

being unable to open the folding stepladder, let alone

climb it.

MRS RAKUTU : You’re being unnecessarily too strict and too hard on

them, my dear.

MR RAKUTU : Stop endearing me. Dudu wanted a new blouse only

yesterday just because a button came off of her old

one. Not that it is old, but the button was seemingly

not properly sewn on. What happened to grabbing a

needle and thread and sewing the button back on? To

think that she broke into tears because I told her to

sew it back on because I was not going to buy her a

new blouse! She was funny really, and I enjoyed

watching what she believed was a frustration (Mrs

Rakutu’s jaw drops). Don’t you gape at me! That was

not the only tantrum she was pulling and it’s high time

all this nonsense came to an end. You said you were a

super mom and you were going to bring up super kids.

But all you have achieved has turned out a super disaster.

MRS RAKUTU : But I never said any of that. All that I …

MR RAKUTU : (Interrupting) You never said any of that? You said all of

that and a lot more than I care to mention. Should I remind

you that it was while you were enjoying a massage from

Midy during your pregnancy that you boasted about all

these? Wasn’t it you who said that you were going to

model your children after their grandparents? Didn’t

your mother a few days ago remind you of the same

thing that I’m reminding you of now? She asked

what happened to your super motherhood, didn’t she?

MRS RAKUTU : But, my dear, I’m sorry. You also know that these children are too difficult and all I’m trying to do is use the

softest approach in the belief that the softest is better

than your tough stance attitude because toughness

hardens them.

MR RAKUTU : And I suppose, Modiegi, you read about that on the

internet? We were brought up to be achievers without

your Google. The internet may be having its merits,

but this internet didn’t give birth to our children and

the internet is about taking action and doing things.

You have a problem of always seeing them as

vulnerable children. They aren’t children anymore. If

only you had any idea of what they can get up to when

they are alone, or with their friends. Your soft

approach has spoiled them. You have turned

potentially worthwhile people into useless beings of no

consequence. They have no answerability! You refused

at their earliest opportunity to send them to boarding

school.

MRS RAKUTU : But it was very early, Sipho.

MR RAKUTU : It was the right time, Modiegi.

MRS RAKUTU : They were still very young.

MR RAKUTU : They were old enough.

MRS RAKUTU : They were still vulnerable, and couldn’t do anything.

MR RAKUTU : And still can’t do anything today.

MRS RAKUTU : But, Sipho, they can … (she can’t remember what)

MR RAKUTU : Yes, Modiegi, they can be disrespectful, they can use

dirty language around the house and they don’t know

the difference between talking to an adult and

someone their age. They can’t iron their clothes,

they can’t make their beds, they can’t cook a

proper meal, they can’t write their own CVs, they

can’t talk themselves out of trouble without mommy at

their side, they are just part of a bunch of lost losers

who are never going to achieve anything in their lives

except trouble. It is going to be interesting watching

how they make their way through life.

MRS RAKUTU : You know, Sipho, sometimes I get the feeling that God

is deliberately punishing us by denying these children

good manners. Why else…

MR RAKUTU : (Interrupting) Stop right there and get back to your

senses, Modiegi. Leave God out of this. I told you from

these children’s early age that you were digging their

graves. The feeling that you say you sometimes get is

your sense of guilt. And by the way, early this morning

I received a call from our chief back home in

Thwethweng. He said our erf was ready and we

can start construction of our retirement home. That is where they are going to learn to be worthwhile people.

MRS RAKUTU : It’s beneficial to have the chief as a friend

because we didn’t need to scour the whole village for

a plot of land to build. Exactly how little is this place,

since you are calling it our little erf? (Suddenly the front door crashes open and Dudu enters followed closely by Obed.)

DUDU : (Her wig in her hand, her head in a turban her mother

had never seen before, barefoot and her high heeled shoes hanging by their ankle straps from the fingers of her other hand, with the heel of one shoe hanging loose, saunters into the lounge.) Good morning, Mother. Good morning, Father.

MR RAKUTU : You walk into my house like you are entering your

palace. Knocking is called good manners, girl. (To Mrs

Rakutu) See what I’m talking about?

DUDU : It’s my home, Father. I’m proud of it and I feel like I’m

indeed entering my own palace. (She spins

around.) Besides, it is almost like a palace in this

neighbourhood.

OBED : (Car keys hanging by their ring from his finger) Hello,

Mum, hello, Dad.

MR RAKUTU : The two of you did not sleep in the house. (Accusingly)

DUDU : No Father (Obed just walks by and further into the house).

MR RAKUTU : Hey you, young man! I’m talking to you!

OBED : No Dad, we didn’t sleep at home. We had to rush to a

quickly arranged get-together at my friend’s.

MR RAKUTU : Which friend is that, because there are dozens? And

what sort of get-together would that have been? You

both stink of alcohol.

DUDU : We are adults, Father. Alcohol should be the least of

your worries. And we were exercising our rights,

y’know. The right to freedom of movement. We are the

born free, remember?

MR RAKUTU : You do not have the right to any freedom to sneak out of your home like a witch while other people are sleeping!

MRS RAKUTU : Listen here girl, one day you will come back with your

tummy full of babies. You will have to quit school to

take care of…

DUDU : (Interrupting her mother) Oh, Mummy-Mother. How

can you say such a terrible thing about your only

daughter? For your motherly peace of mind, Fanta and

I always do it with protection. Besides…

MRS RAKUTU : Stop right there! Don’t get Miss Smart-know-it-all with me. Mind your language! It’s horrible! I have never taught you to be disrespectful!

MIDY : (Enters with a tray bearing a half-full glass of white

wine, a tumbler, and a decanter. The decanter is a

quarter empty and Midy empties its contents into the

tumbler. She proffers the wine glass to Mrs Rakutu

and the tumbler to Mr Rakutu.)

DUDU : As I was saying, Midy will take care of my bambino,

even if I bring half a dozen of them at the same time.

Isn’t that right Midy?

MR RAKUTU : Midy will do nothing of that sort. Now, get out of

here! I’m not going to sit here and listen to your

gibberish! (Midy leaves)

OBED : What a jawbreaker, Dad …

MR RAKUTU : (Emphatically.) You are drunk. Now go on, get out

of here!

(Obed and Dudu stumble out of the lounge. Mr Rakutu changes the TV channel to the news with the remote and turns down the volume a few notches.)

MRS RAKUTU : Didn’t you say Marandara said you should take

gulps instead of sips? What kind of name is that

anyway?

MR RAKUTU : Actually, it’s Madarandara. He claims to be from

Madagascar, which I doubt. The only thing I don’t

doubt is the efficacy of his medicine. It is very

good. It is doing wonders for me. My lower back has stopped aching. The next time I go for the tests, I believe the results will come out declaring me cancer-free and healthy. I suspect Madarandara may be coming from Zambia or Tanzania. The bitterness of his concoction will be the death of me. (Empties the tumbler down his throat with three large gulps, grimacing.) I want us to go and see my friend, Chief Modafi.

MRS RAKUTU : Now, when will that be?

MR RAKUTU : Today.

MRS RAKUTU : A friend of the chief. Just how did it happen in the first place?

MR RAKUTU : How did what happen?

MRS RAKUTU : Your friendship with the chief. I was listening to his

speech on the successful completion of that community facility – what do you call it, by the way, Boitumelo Besho – and he sounded so formidable.

MR RAKUTU : Darling, it’s not just that community facility. Modafi

and I built our community facility with our blood,

sweat, and tears. It took us five years of planning and

construction, we are enormously proud of it. One

other thing, you must be losing some of your memory

marbles. You said many years ago that you would never

go to the village again to see my friend. That’s why I

have always left you behind. You have even forgotten

that he was my best man on our wedding day!

MRS RAKUTU : All right my dear, I get the point. Just for as long as you are not going to remind me again about how you built it, or what it means to you.

MR RAKUTU : Darling, Boitumelo Besho is more about what it means

to our people, that is, the people of Thwethweng.

He is a wise man and a good one to boot. One

professor wanted our university to honour him with a

doctorate. Our friendship goes beyond mere ‘friend’.

We went to school together. We met at primary

school in grade 4 and that’s where our friendship began. He had not written his homework and he was scared that our drama teacher would put him in front of the class and make him act The Frog. That meant squatting, jumping around, quacking and croaking. Fortunately for him, I gave him my first draft which I had discarded and was about to throw into the bin.

MRS RAKUTU : And the teacher accepted the draft?

MR RAKUTU : The fact that the homework was done, was good

enough for our drama teacher. Besides, my draft was a

lot better than the final products of many of our

classmates.

MRS RAKUTU : So you saved him the embarrassment?

MR RAKUTU : Not only him. Moshate would have been

mortified too. And of course, our drama teacher would

have been made to quack and croak, by those silly

minders of the royal house. The poor teacher would

have suffered, and I don’t think the principal would have

lifted a finger to save him. You don’t just

put the royal house to shame and receive a pat on the

shoulder for bravery. Our teacher would have left

under a cloud of shame, and neither Modafi nor I

wanted that. In fact, no one would have wanted the

teacher to leave, although no one knew that by saving

Modafi the embarrassment I had effectively saved

Teacher Maporo. We loved Teacher Maporo, and so

did everyone else at school. He was a great chap who could be funny, and he made everyone want to come to school.

MRS RAKUTU : So, you saved the teacher from losing a job or getting a transfer, and the learners from losing the best teacher.

MR RAKUTU : You are spot on, my dear. Modafi and I only got to talk

about it ten years later on when we were reminiscing

about our past, and realised the full impact of

it. In that same year after giving Modafi my draft script,

we went on to win not just the trophy, but the honour

of being the first primary school to win in the

inauguration of the Primary Schools Drama Festival.

All our names, under the name of our school, are part

of a permanent commemorative inscription at the

Provincial Drama Academy in Polokwane.

MRS RAKUTU : Wow! I thought I was done with you. But every day, I

get to know something new about my husband. An

achievement at a primary school level.

MR RAKUTU : We were born to achieve, my darling. We could have

achieved more, but our new government is too slow

and has too many communities to take care of. Waiting

for it may be like waiting for manna from heaven.

There is still more to tell, my dear. But that will be for

another time. Now we’ve got to go and see Modafi.

MRS RAKUTU : The government may eventually award you National Orders for being outstanding citizens.

MR RAKUTU : We are not looking for awards or orders. We are looking for progress and development. Anyway, that will be a discussion for some other time.

ACT I SCENE II

The Rakutus have arrived at Moshate. Mrs Rakutu is awe-struck by the number of big houses in the chief’s homestead, the seat of the governance of a single, but large progressive village. Chief Modafi has sent a welcome party to meet his friends at the gate.