Giannina Braschi - United States of Banana

To see what was and what still is — what was and what still is — is life as a consequence of life — anything that interrupts this consequence from giving birth to more birthing — anything that interrupts the continuity with a selfish purpose — the newscasters always announcing the accidental — the verb coming without a noun and a predicate — the news without visions — the present without an integration into the past and the future — forecast by the relationship we have with the past — with what has happened that is bound to happen again — not as a repetition of historical events — but as knowledge of what is yet to come with the everlasting experience of the wheel of fortune of three tenses bouncing the ball on a tennis court — and I am not merely playing — I am counting my days — the ones I didn’t play on the court of clowns and buffoons as my days — happy days are here again!

[Zeno, eating a melon. Parmenides, eating ice cream.]

Socrates: It is superfluous.

Parmenides: What is superfluous?

Socrates: Whipped cream on top of ice cream. If you were really hungry — hungry for thoughts — you wouldn’t be eating whip cream on top of your ice cream. You must be really hot. The ice is melting.

Parmenides: I have a light cold — a slight fever — no story to tell — a bone to pick — and you, of all people, know how degrading is logic — when you start counting numbers — and they don’t add up. I told you: ask Protagoras — he is there — at the Caribe Hilton eating a grilled cheese sandwich and tomato soup — and counting the waves — as possible encounters with himself and with others. And looking for an escape from the island — surrounded by water on all sides.

Protagoras: If you study with me, your life will improve.

Giannina: It’s true, my life gets better when I study with all of you sages of ancient and present times, but once I start quoting you — people throw coconuts at my head. Look, Socrates, this is what I wanted to ask you: should I change — if my life is not happy — but comfortable — should I take the chance of eliminating the comfort — in order to get the love I need to grow as an artist. I want to grow — and I have grown enormously reading all of you — but I lack a candle — I lack a pyre — a mire — a bonfire. Revolutions come with cake à la mode. There is always an insurmountable amount of energy wasted — in order to combat negativity. Positive — I want to be positive. I have to confront extermination.

Oliver: I am the exterminator of cockroaches. But I will be the exterminator of reptiles. Of poets, philosophers, lovers. I wage war against terrorism, against drugs, against nations, against people, against whatever is against. I am nothing without waging war against. What am I without waging war against…against…against…. I am the divider. I am the decider. I decide which countries have rights.

Giannina: I am ready to confront you — Oliver Exterminator. You tried to strangle me with a scarf — evil motherfucker — knowing that the only thing that I have left is my voice — and the more you tried to strangle me mute with a scarf — in the street — the louder I began to sing:

La cucaracha, la cucaracha,

Ya no la pueden exterminar

Ni los gusanos

Ni los reptiles

Ni las opciones

Ni los mandatos

Pueden matar su libertad!

There was a time when I said — let me play the game, let me select one of the options that he has given me — and I even thought — what generosity of spirit! Look, he has given me not two, but three options: Wishy, Wishy-Washy, and Washy. But the more I gave you thanks, the poorer in spirit I became — even more constrained — more denied and deprived — less of a human being — until I realized — no, these options are not real. If they were real I would feel right and I feel wrong. Like somebody — a country — is pulling my leg — by giving us options — when what we need are rights — unalienable rights — the same unalienable rights that they have. Why do I feel incompetent to make a choice — a good choice? A brilliant choice. Look, I really want to make the best choice of all: mashed, fried, or baked. Other countries have no potatoes at all, but I have the liberty to pick among three options that taste the same — but nevertheless are three — not unalienable rights — only options. My voice will extinguish your extermination. I don’t need your spray of raid of sex and race. Just my voice. And my voice was driven out of my neck, it was driven out of my throat, it is walking and singing alone without a neck, without a throat, without a body — my voice was driven out of my body by your strangulation — and it took my breath away — and as I stopped breathing — my voice became the voice of the people — and it started singing ferociously — fearlessly — and it started out as a shy contralto — and it became a fearless soprano — singing — fearlessly. Nobody, ecoutez moi —nobody is going to silence my voice — not even death will shut my mouth — not even Oliver’s strangulation will stop me from saying what I have to say — what I have to say will be said and is said — with this voice — that keeps singing after the strangulation — more adamant — more passionate — like the swan song when it knows it’s about to die — but also like the reptile’s tail that continues moving — even after it has been dismembered from the body — it jumps to high heaven — gymnastic tails that have no origin and no end — except in the jumping away — and singing without lungs or a throat — in a scream disproportionate — disembodied — the voice left the body and sings without a body:

La cucaracha, la cucaracha,

Ya no la pueden exterminar,

Ni los gusanos,

Ni los reptiles,

Pueden matar su libertad!

[Giannina, swarmed by cheering cockroaches, climbs aboard La Armada Invencible to welcome the fleet.]

Giannina: Without China I would not be able to do this. I owe it to the Chinese like you, Fidel, owe it to the Russians.

Fidel: But you managed extremely well, throwing those cocos. The Spanish fleet brought me here. On its way to Puerto Rico, La Armada Invencible stopped by Cuba and picked me up. They said: bring the children and the old men and women. I am an old man myself — so I came aboard.

Giannina: I always admired you — and Hugo Chávez too. Grab a mop — Obama said — don’t criticize my grip — at least I am mopping the floor. And I say to Obama — why are you mopping the floor — public servant — when you should be leading the country. Look up — you won’t have to mop the floor — if you look up and see there is a leak in the ceiling. You will never stop mopping the floor — public servant — unless you start looking at the causes — not at the consequences. The leader of a country should not be mopping the floor — nor finding leaks in the ceiling either — nor calling upon the citizens to do more for the country by mopping the floor. I will not mop the floor — nor will I look for leaks in the ceiling. I will create a country that you will not discover unless you read me first.

Cockroach: The masses are fearless in the streets.

Giannina: What are they doing?

Cockroach: Screaming.

Giannina: That’s good.

Cockroach: But they’re not in your favor.

Giannina: Even better.

Cockroach: They’re in favor of themselves.

Giannina: Even better. The coming insurrection.