Goliarda Sapienza - The Art of Joy

GIUFÀ The hat was the greenest of greens: spotless. It’s just that a cow shat on me. Never mind a sparrow or canary … a cow!

TREE How could a cow shit on your head, Giufà? Since the world began, cows stay flat on the ground.

GIUFÀ It’s because I’m distressed! I’m distressed! And earlier I was even more distressed and while I was distressed, I fell asleep near the cowshed, and with this green hat on my head the cow mistook me for a meadow.

TREE And is this the misfortune that’s troubling you, Giufà?

GIUFÀ If only that were all! A good many other painful events are troubling Giufà’s soul. And they are so troubling that I now realize to my great horror that I’ve gone blind.

TREE You’re not blind, Giufà. It’s just that night has fallen.

GIUFÀ You’re making fun of me, stranger! I’m blind, I tell you! And the proof is that you’re talking to me but I can’t see you. There! Giufà’s logic is sharp! And logic tells me that if you can see me the sun must be up.

TREE It’s night Giufà, believe me.

GIUFÀ You don’t say? It’s night, is it? And how could Giufà, distressed, have slept for ten hours?

TREE Young man of little faith and little intelligence. You see me and don’t recognize me. I’m Tree, and I have the power to console, like all forms of greenery and stone. I belong to the race of those who stand and observe, not the human race, which fumes and frets, farts and knows no peace.

GIUFÀ Oh, Tree, forgive me! But don’t add misfortune to misfortune. Call me a young man of little intelligence if you like, but don’t accuse me of being a man of little faith, because Giufà has every faith and confidence in you trees, and rocks, and springs. Leave me to my despair. I just want to be upset even if I’m not blind. I believe you that it’s night and not day, but I want to wallow hopelessly in this distress.

TREE There you go, falling into human error. The herb alfalfa made you fall asleep to console your sorrow.

GIUFÀ Ah, amazing miracle! I appreciate it, but nothing can console Giufà.

TREE Is it because of that bastard, your father, that the herb lacked the power to bring you peace?

GIUFÀ Worse, worse!

TREE The gendarmes then? Are the gendarmes looking for you?

GIUFÀ Worse, even worse!

TREE I see that your situation is serious. So you must immediately resort to someone who has greater power than ours.

GIUFÀ Who would that be?

TREE Here she comes now, breaching the wall of night with her scythe.

GIUFÀ Oh, Tree! You’re not calling on La Certa to console me, are you? Let’s not go too far! Giufà is distressed, but he has no love for La Certa .

TREE What are you saying! Immortal Tree has nothing to do with that harpy. Tree calls upon the moon or the stars or the sun. Look, here comes the moon! She’s newly born, but she has the wisdom of millennia. Talk to her.

MOON-MELA Giufà, Giufà, you can’t constantly pester me on my nightly journey. I have to go round and round to check on things! I’ll give you one minute before I go to look for the comet and the Dolphin.

GIUFÀ Oh, Moon! What a soft voice you have!

MOON I was just born, and I have a lot to do.

GIUFÀ Forgive me, Moon, but Giufà suffered a great offence.

MOON Like that time with the figs and the Madonna?

GIUFÀ Worse!

MOON One of these nights I’ll have to speak to your mother.

GIUFÀ Oh, yes, speak to her on my behalf. Because she orders me around, she tells Giufà word for word what he has to do, but when Giufà conscientiously performs the task word for word, she’s not satisfied and she gets furious.

MOON She’s too precise. I must muddle her thoughts a little. But tell me, what happened?

GIUFÀ At dawn this morning, she gets all dressed up and she tells me word for word: ‘Tidy up the house, water the garden, then put on nice clean clothes — don’t make me look bad — and come to church. Today is Santa Rosalia’s feast day and all the relatives will be at Mass. But remember to pull the door behind you before you go out, Giufà; there are rogues and thieves running around! Don’t forget! Pull the door behind you.’

MOON So?

GIUFÀ I struggled for three hours to unhinge the door, and then carried it, heavy as it was, on my back. And she, when she sees me in the piazza, flies into a rage, yelling at me and raving to the heavens! Of course I was three hours late and the Mass was over. But the door weighed a ton, I swear to God! Why did she have to yell at me for being late? Women! Who can understand them? Moon, I’m inconsolable!

MOON Oh, Giufà! Poor Giufà!

GIUFÀ To disown her son for being late! She threatened to crack my head open.

MOON And what did you do?

GIUFÀ Desolate, I hurled that door she wanted so much into the piazza! Besides being distressed, I was afraid of her punching and scratching. Does it seem fair to you?

MOON When I get to be a strong, full moon, I’ll go visit her in her sleep and make her rant a little. Come now, I want to console you. Hop on my back and forget these things. For tonight, I’ll take you around with me among the stars.

GIUFÀ Oh, how sweet it is to be riding on you, Moon! Already I feel consoled!

MOON We’re taking off from the earth! Say goodbye to your friend Tree.

GIUFÀ Oh, Moon, how we’re rising! We must be up a few feet or so already! Hey, Moon, I won’t fall, will I?

MOON You fall when you’re standing on the ground, thinking too much, not riding on me with my eyes full of clouds and comets.

GIUFÀ Oh, the comet! Farewell, friendly Tree, dear forest! What are those lights splashing so brightly down there in the sea?

MOON It’s the dolphins leaping in my wake, besotted with joy under my silvery lamp …

* * *

Her attention totally focused on Crispina’s tiny body as she stretches toward Giufà’s flight, Modesta doesn’t notice the silence beside her until Crispina falls back into her lap. She sighs.

‘Giufà is gone! He disappeared behind there. Why?’

How had she missed hearing Joyce get up? The child is heavy, and the heat of her little body is making Modesta sweat.

‘Yes, yes, Pietro, take her.’

‘I’m not going with Giufà, Papa, I’m staying with you!’

‘Of course you’re staying with me. Such a wonderful show! I’ve never been to a theatre, but…’

‘Let me get through, Pietro.’

‘Oh, Voscenza , forgive me! Are you upset because of the signora ? She left quite a while ago. Maybe because of the heat, Mody. Plus, Giufà is for picciriddi .’

Modesta can’t join in the applause that ebbs and flows again like a warm wave. Pushing through the choppy sea that hampers her movements, she reaches Joyce’s room in a few seconds. Palms on the door, she hesitates. What if she isn’t there, either?

‘Joyce, can I come in?’

She’s there, smoking. Maybe her disappearing like that doesn’t mean anything. Maybe Joyce had simply wanted to smoke, since the kids had hung large signs on the walls, so that everything would be ‘just like in a real theatre’: ‘Smoking is strictly prohibited’.

‘Come in, little one, the door is open.’

She sits in the armchair facing the window, her head tilted to the left, as always when she’s smoking. On the low table are four or five cigarettes, barely started and then crushed out. Her long black hair is outlined, motionless, on the window pane which is lit by the sunset. She smokes and looks outside while Modesta still trembles about that empty seat beside her.

‘What is it, little one? Sit down! Standing up like that, you’re blocking my view of the sky: a magnificent sunset.’

‘Why did you disappear like that? I told you I can’t bear these disappearances of yours. Are you upset with me? Why don’t you shout, get angry instead of disappearing like that? You do it on purpose! You know it distresses me and you do it on purpose. Yet I’ve explained to you that ever since that day we found you…’