This play is far more powerful in production than on the page, yet reading it still gives a searing glimpse into the difficulties Congolese women are facing in their country’s civil war, a convoluted, vicious conflict in which rape is systematically – and pervasively – used as a weapon. Drawing on her extensive interviews with victims/survivors, Lynn Nottage presents a tale of such suffering that it seems like a warped horror story from another time period or, we could wish, another planet. Yet it’s a frighteningly immediate story – variations of the drama are being enacted in real life every day. Also, the mineral at the center of the war, coltan, is fought over partly because it’s an essential component of cell phones. In an oddly disconcerting way, every one of us has a piece of the Democratic Republic of the Congo sitting on our desk or in our purse. I’m not prone to displaced guilt, but you have to admit it gives one pause.
The play takes place in a bar/brothel at the edge of a war zone and presents widely disparate characters – insurgents, government soldiers, prostitutes, international traders, and villagers. But at the center is Mama Nadi, the commanding owner and madam. One day she might be serving the insurgents, the next she might be entertaining the government soldiers, but her establishment is a neutral zone and everyone checks his bullets at the door. Mama’s forceful personality and equivocal ethics encapsulate the muddy, moral mess of war as well as the resilience of human nature. You know a world in which a brothel is a retreat, and working in a brothel a girl’s best hope, is not going to be a pretty one. But however horrific and alien the circumstances, the characters in the play grab you with their humanity, and they force you to relate to that shared humanity by witnessing assaults against it and, at times, triumphs of it.
I saw Ruined performed in the round, which means you could see through the actors and on-stage drama to rows of other theatre goers. This had the benefit of almost superimposing the action onto the audience; I simultaneously watched the actions of people halfway around the world and the reactions of people like me. The odd unity of actors and audience was suitable for a play full of alien and shared experience. Casual references to witch doctors and spats over nail polish occur in the same scene; the foreign and familiar are not mutually exclusive, and neither are unspeakable abuse and the possibility of healing. At the end of the play half the audience was smiling and breathing an audible “Ahhh” while the other half didn’t even applaud because they were still wiping their eyes…the combination of brutality and humanity is quite unsettling. However, I’d definitely wait to see it performed rather than read it – while it’s powerful, it’s no Streetcar.