A Tragedy in Four Acts
By Martin Jabiri
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Copyright © 2024 by Martin Jabiri
All rights reserved. No part of this play may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission from the author.
Contact: jabirimartin5@gmail.com
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CHARACTERS
UBORA – A young man of integrity, intelligent, God-fearing, faithful. He rises from village poverty to academic excellence. Age: 19–28 across the play.
SIFA – The protagonist. Beautiful, intelligent, but flawed by ambition and insecurity. Age: 15–26 across the play.
PSALMIST – A poetic narrator who bridges scenes, reveals truths, and comments on the action. Timeless, ethereal.
MKOSI – Sifa's mother. A former convict, fierce, protective but morally compromised.
BABA SIFA – Sifa's father. Former military personnel. Quiet, authoritative.
TAMAR – Sifa's university friend. Sexy, materialistic, godless, manipulative.
SHUNUH – Sifa's university friend. Shameless, faithless, yet intermittently conscience-stricken.
TEMA – Chief Minister of Mshinku State. Wealthy, powerful, predatory.
KONDEZA – Tema's son. Entitled, complicit in his father's corruption.
SAMTOSHA – Tema's wife. Calculating, vengeful, proud.
MASONRY – A hired assassin. Silent, professional, deadly.
AERONAUTICAL ENGINEER – An accomplice, murdered after tampering with the jet.
EMERGENCY POLICE UNIT OFFICERS – Two officers killed in the shootout.
THE PILOT – An innocent casualty.
THE DRIVER – An unregistered car driver, unwitting accomplice.
THE UNKNOWN CALLER – Samtosha's agent.
STUDENTS, VILLAGERS, POLITICIANS, MOURNERS – Ensemble.
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SETTING
Time: Contemporary.
Place: Mshinku State, a fictional agricultural-rich county in East Africa. Locations include Ukiru County (rural, poor, education-dependent), Tambaza County (urban, political hub), Mikasa University, Tomaso International Airport, Pwasi County (coastal, luxurious).
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ACT ONE
Scene One
A small village in Ukiru County. Evening. The golden light of sunset washes over a modest shed attached to a semi-rented house. Sounds of distant chickens and children playing.
PSALMIST enters from shadows.
PSALMIST:
(To audience)
Listen, you who have ears.
Listen, you who have hearts.
I shall tell you a story
Of love and of ruin.
Of a girl who shone like morning
And burned like midnight.
Of a boy who climbed from dust
And fell from grace
Not by his own hand
But by the weight of another's hunger.
(He gestures toward the shed)
Here they sit.
Two children playing at forever.
Two souls who do not yet know
That forever is a cruel promise
When time has other plans.
(Psalmist exits as SIFA and UBORA enter, settling onto a wooden bench. Sifa holds a phone, but her attention is entirely on Ubora. She is fifteen, radiant, with snow-white teeth and endless hope. Ubora is nineteen, handsome, earnest.)
SIFA:
(Leaning her head on his shoulder)
Is it over yet? Or just beginning? Sometimes I wish it was already that day. The day when you'd never have to leave again.
UBORA:
(Smiling, stroking her hair)
Worry not. All will be one day. For now, we have to do our best in our studies.
SIFA:
I know. That is the only way we're going to be surgeons. But at times... I am scared.
UBORA:
Don't be. All will come to fulfillment. Besides, this is my exam year. I'll be through with high school level. And you are still a long way to go.
SIFA:
(Lifting her head, looking at him with mock suspicion)
You'll be going to meet those older girls, you know. They might entice you with their unending glances.
UBORA:
Come on... stop being childish at times. Even though you're one...
SIFA:
(Teasing, showing her teeth in a wide smile)
The way you're intelligent and determined! Unlike most of those campus guys, whom I hear some people say they are lazy.
UBORA:
(Laughing)
At times you surprise me with how much you know about that campus life. I even know less than you do, and the way I am months to or a year to being there. You're years behind me. Stop reading too much on those things! You'll get there someday.
SIFA:
I know, but—is it bad, wanting to understand the type of environment my prince is going? It's just a know-how sort of knowledge.
UBORA:
You amuse me with how much you like knowing so many things above your age set. Sometimes I tend to believe you're too anxious. That's risky...
SIFA:
(Touching his cheek)
We girls like that. Risk! You know—being a mum involves several of them.
UBORA:
Some instances, you tend to be too naughty, Sifa. Like?
SIFA:
(Mysteriously)
Time will tell. You're really an amazing young man. Can't blame me for thinking a little further than today! Any woman would want to be entangled around you all the time. Every second away from the dishes and all other manner of separable elements from your presence.
UBORA:
You leave me in silence, as you say all I'd have told you.
SIFA:
Even your sight is enough for me. Nothing can measure how happy I feel around you.
UBORA:
(Quietly, almost to himself)
I can only imagine that day I call you my wife. That time when I wake up, and you are the first person I see on opening my eyes. I consistently ask myself if I deserve the love you've shown me. My head always goes blank.
SIFA:
The reality of life brought us closer to each other than it should have. I only wish I had met you much later. There is a lot I would have done that I cannot today.
UBORA:
Relax. Just as the sun rises in the day and the moon at night, all that shall be, when the time is right. Knowing you is greater than any gift I would have asked for.
SIFA:
That time I anticipate daily. Thinking it's too soon, only to realize it has not yet dawned. Some instances I wish you were a little bit lenient on your faith, but you're too strict.
UBORA:
Come on, my sweet pie. You need to cool down a little bit. It's too early for that. I want us to accomplish our aspirations of success. Then I will not refrain myself anymore.
SIFA:
That is why I love you. Always firm with what you believe is right. Never giving in to erotic pressure.
UBORA:
Because I believe there is time for everything under the sun.
(He looks upward)
Time to love and time to be one. Time to sow and time to reap what you sowed. Now, we are sowing. Building a lasting relationship. Then we shall reap the fruits of our love and emotional intimacy.
SIFA:
I can't be happier than to give in to your everyday care, kindness, and tenderness as my forever Adam.
UBORA:
I will always do my best to see you cheerful forever. I will make our home my nest. I will always support you to be the best. Even when you give up on a certain dream you hold, I'll be there to motivate you—just as you have been for me.
SIFA:
(Arms spreading around his neck)
I believe in you, my superman. I am everything I can ever want, as long as it is you who beholds my heart. You complete me more than anything would. You satisfy me more than anyone else would. You make me the better being I seek to be. No man can replace you in my life.
UBORA:
There is no day that goes by of which I don't think about us. I can affirmatively say that my parents have constantly rejected my relationship with you because of your mama's past. But you are not your mum, I know. And no mistake of the parent should be sentenced directly to the child, I believe. You are the one I want to say "I do" to, if you shall be patient enough. No one will ever replace you before me.
SIFA:
(Frowning slightly)
You are a guy with a polite character, decent, determined, and focused. Most ladies like that. Other than that, you are God-fearing and faithful—every girl's Mr. Right. And the way you'll soon be a comrade! There is no guarantee.
UBORA:
I am a man of my word. There may be difficulty believing me, but please don't doubt my love and affection for you.
SIFA:
I believe in you, but not the distance between us! I will miss you so much. I cannot imagine you being surrounded by all those half-naked pretty cheeks with their flashy Western looks and still remember I exist with the level of availability down there?
(She blinks her eyes dramatically)
UBORA:
I'll be safe. Just be well. I know this village goons can be mischievous at times. Can't tell what they might do to reach you when I am away.
SIFA:
(Smiling, as if struck by a vivid reality)
You have nothing to worry about. And if they dare—you know how my dad is. And Mum too.
Beat.
UBORA:
(Nodding, a gesture of resignation)
Oh. That? Let it be.
SIFA:
You don't have to fear. Nothing of such can come your way.
MKOSI's voice from inside the house.
MKOSI:
(Offstage)
Food is ready!
SIFA:
(Shouting toward the house)
Coming!
(She turns to Ubora. They rise. For a long moment, they hold each other. Then they kiss—tender, prolonged, as if memorizing each other's shape. They hold hands and walk toward the house like two lovebirds.)
PSALMIST enters as they exit.
PSALMIST:
The meal, sweet it was.
Delicious, can be told.
Smiles—smile—overflowed
The table as it was taken.
Then Ubora was gone
For his final high school exam,
With promises to perform
The best of what is
In the council ranks.
Showered by kisses and pledges
Of a love never ending,
They depart from each other
As their destiny kept on waiting.
(He turns to audience)
And waiting is a dangerous thing.
For while you wait,
The world does not.
While you hold your breath,
Others breathe for you.
While you keep one seat empty,
The hungry sit down.
(Psalmist exits.)
---
Scene Two
Months later. A modest home in Ukiru County. Results day. UBORA sits at a wooden table, an envelope trembling in his hands. SIFA stands behind him, her hands on his shoulders. MKOSI and BABA SIFA hover at the edges.
UBORA:
(Voice barely a whisper)
I cannot open it.
SIFA:
You have to. Whatever it is, we face it together.
UBORA:
What if I failed? What if all of it—the late nights, the walking ten kilometers to school, the hunger—what if it was for nothing?
BABA SIFA:
(Stepping forward, placing a heavy hand on Ubora's shoulder)
Son. A man opens what frightens him. That is the only way he becomes a man.
Ubora takes a breath. He tears the envelope. He reads. His face goes blank.
MKOSI:
(Impatient)
Well? What does it say?
Ubora says nothing. He hands the paper to Sifa. She reads. Her hand flies to her mouth.
SIFA:
(Whispering)
Top of the country. Ubora... you are top of the entire country.
Silence. Then BABA SIFA lets out a sound—half laugh, half sob. MKOSI crosses herself.
BABA SIFA:
Top of the country. My boy. My boy!
(He embraces Ubora fiercely)
MKOSI:
(To herself)
From this village. From this dust. Top of the country.
UBORA:
(Dazed)
I... I don't know what to say.
SIFA:
Say you knew. Say you always knew.
UBORA:
I hoped. I never knew.
SIFA:
(Kissing his forehead)
That is why you deserve it. Because you hoped, but you worked like it depended only on you.
They stand together in a tableau of joy. But PSALMIST appears at the window, watching, shaking his head slowly.
PSALMIST:
(To audience)
Rejoice, little flock.
Rejoice, small village.
A son has risen.
But listen to me—
The higher the climb,
The harder the fall.
And the world does not celebrate
The poor boy who becomes king.
It resents him.
And it waits.
Oh, how it waits.
(He disappears.)
---
Scene Three
Six months later. The same home. UBORA sits alone, head in hands. A letter lies open before him. SIFA enters, cautious.
SIFA:
Ubora? What is it? You called me urgently.
UBORA:
(Without looking up)
I cannot go.
SIFA:
Cannot go where?
UBORA:
Medical school. I was selected. But...
(He gestures to the letter)
I cannot afford it. My parents have nothing. The scholarships I applied for—they went to students with connections. Children of politicians. Children of the rich. My grades meant nothing.
SIFA:
(Kneeling beside him)
There must be another way. A loan? A benefactor?
UBORA:
I have tried everything. Everything, Sifa. The bank says I have no collateral. The government says I missed the deadline for their program by one day—one day, because the bus from this village broke down on the road.
(His voice cracks)
I have worked my whole life for this. And now...
SIFA:
Then what will you do?
UBORA:
(Finally looking at her)
I will change. To education. School of education, secondary option. Sciences. They have space. They have a small stipend.
SIFA:
(Pulling back slightly)
Education? You want to be a teacher?
UBORA:
I want to be something. Anything. I refuse to sit in this village and watch my life disappear.
SIFA:
But you were meant for more. You were top of the country! Top!
UBORA:
(Standing, angry now)
Do you think I don't know that? Every night I lie awake and I hear the exam results being announced on the radio. Every morning I walk past the chief's house and his son—who scored half my points—drives to medical school in his father's car. Do you think I don't know what I lost?
(Quietly)
But I will not lose myself. I will be a teacher. I will be the best teacher. And one day—one day—I will find another way.
Sifa is silent for a long moment. Her face is unreadable.
SIFA:
(Finally)
I am disappointed. I will not lie to you. But I am not disappointed in you. I am disappointed in a world that does this.
(She takes his hand)
I will stand with you. Whatever you become.
Ubora pulls her close.
UBORA:
That is all I need.
PSALMIST appears at the door.
PSALMIST:
That is all he needed.
But need and want
Are not the same.
What the heart requires
And what the heart desires
Often travel
In opposite directions.
(He exits.)
---
Scene Four
Four years later. A graduation ceremony at a state university. UBORA, now twenty-three, wears a cap and gown. FIRST CLASS HONORS is written on his certificate. SIFA, now nineteen, sits in the audience with MKOSI and BABA SIFA. Cheers.
CHANCELLOR:
(On stage)
And now, the moment we have all been waiting for. The graduate with the highest honors in the School of Education—Ubora Mkono!
Applause. Ubora walks across the stage, shakes hands, accepts his certificate. He looks into the audience. His eyes find Sifa. She is crying—not with sorrow, but with pride.
Later. Outside the hall. Families mingle. Ubora holds his certificate like a sacred object. Sifa approaches.
SIFA:
You did it. You actually did it.
UBORA:
We did it. You were the one who wrote to me every week. Who sent me those small amounts of money you saved from selling vegetables. Who reminded me who I was when I forgot.
SIFA:
(Wiping tears)
I never forgot who you were. Even when you doubted yourself, I never did.
UBORA:
And now? Now I have a job. The Commission of Teachers has posted me to an interior school in our home county. High rate of inadequacy for science teachers, they said. They need me.
SIFA:
You'll be close to home.
UBORA:
I'll be close to you.
(He takes her hands)
Sifa, there is something I want to do. Something I have been saving for. Your school fees. You missed two years because your parents could not pay. I want to cover them. I want you to go back.
SIFA:
(Startled)
Ubora—that is too much. You have your own debts, your own—
UBORA:
(Firmly)
I have enough. And what is enough if I cannot share it with you? You want to be a surgeon, yes? Then let me help you become one.
Sifa stares at him. For a moment, she seems to see him truly—the boy who loved her, the man who sacrificed.
SIFA:
(Softly)
You are too good. Too good for this world. Too good for me.
UBORA:
Then let me be good for you. That is all I ask.
They embrace. But over Sifa's shoulder, MKOSI watches. Her expression is not joyful. It is calculating.
MKOSI:
(To herself)
A teacher's salary. A village posting. This is what my daughter has been waiting for?
(She walks away, shaking her head.)
---
Scene Five
Three years later. A small but tidy home in Ukiru County. UBORA, now twenty-six, sits grading papers. SIFA, twenty-two, enters in her university uniform—she has completed her secondary education and is now in her final year of pre-med studies.
SIFA:
(Dropping her bag)
I have something to tell you.
UBORA:
(Not looking up)
Tell me.
SIFA:
I want us to marry.
Ubora stops grading. He looks up slowly.
UBORA:
What?
SIFA:
I do not want to reach menopause while still in school. I want to study medicine—neurosurgery—as your wife. I want to give you children. I want to be called by your name.
UBORA:
(Standing)
Sifa, you are twenty-two years old. You have two more years of your undergraduate degree, then medical school, then residency. You are not going to reach menopause anytime soon.
SIFA:
That is not the point.
UBORA:
Then what is the point?
SIFA:
(Turning away, then turning back)
The point is that I am tired of waiting. We have been together since I was fifteen. I am a woman now. I want to be your wife.
UBORA:
And you will be. When you have finished your studies. When you have a job. When we are both stable.
SIFA:
(Voice rising)
That is not what you promised. You promised forever. You did not put conditions on forever.
UBORA:
I am not putting conditions. I am being practical. Marriage is not just love—it is responsibility. How will we afford children? How will we afford a home?
SIFA:
You have a salary. I will find work.
UBORA:
Part-time work? While studying neurosurgery?
SIFA:
(Angry now)
You do not want to marry me. That is the truth. There is someone else.
UBORA:
There is no one else. There has never been anyone else.
SIFA:
Then prove it. Marry me.
UBORA:
Sifa...
SIFA:
(Her voice breaking)
If there is someone else, I will kill myself. Do you hear me? I will swallow something. I will find a way. Or you marry me. I cannot wait anymore. I want to be called by your name. I want to carry your children. I want to be showered by your kisses. I want to smell your breath, feel your sweat, retire by your chest, feel your warmth all night long, over and ever, till our olden days. To death do us part and forever more at infinity.
(Tears stream down her face)
I mean it. Every word.
Ubora stares at her. He sees her tears. He hears her threat. And something in him breaks—not his love for her, but his resistance to her.
UBORA:
(Quietly)
You would hold your life hostage?
SIFA:
I am holding our love hostage. Because it is the only thing that matters. And you are letting it go.
A long silence. Ubora walks to her. He takes her face in his hands.
UBORA:
I will marry you. But not like this. Not because you threatened me. Because I love you. And I have always loved you.
SIFA:
(Through tears)
Then organize the wedding.
UBORA:
A small one. Simple. Just family, close friends.
SIFA:
(Pulling away)
No.
UBORA:
No?
SIFA:
I want a huge wedding. A luxurious one. I have waited ten years for this day, Ubora. Ten years. I will not celebrate it in some village church with borrowed chairs and a second-hand gown.
UBORA:
But our savings—the money I set aside for our house, for your tuition—
SIFA:
We will figure that out later. First, give me my day. Please.
Ubora searches her face. He wants to say no. But he sees the girl he fell in love with, the girl who waited, the girl who threatened to die. He nods.
UBORA:
Okay. Whatever you want.
Sifa smiles—victorious, radiant. She kisses him. But PSALMIST, watching from the corner, does not smile.
PSALMIST:
Whatever you want.
Four words
That have undone
More kingdoms
Than any sword.
Whatever you want.
The rope with which
The loving hang themselves.
(He steps forward)
Listen to me, young man.
Listen to me, foolish heart.
There is a difference
Between giving
And destroying yourself.
There is a difference
Between sacrifice
And suicide.
And you, Ubora,
You have just signed
A check
That your soul
Cannot cash.
(He exits.)
---
Scene Six
The wedding. A grand affair. A large church, overflowing with flowers. Expensive gowns. A reception hall that cost a year's salary. UBORA stands at the altar, handsome in a tailored suit. SIFA walks down the aisle, breathtaking, her smile wide.
But the camera—if there were a camera—would catch the shadows under Ubora's eyes. The way his hands tremble slightly. The debt he has accumulated: every savings account emptied, every loan taken, every favor called in.
The reception. Dancing. Eating. Toasts.
BEST MAN:
To Ubora and Sifa! May their love be as endless as the debt—
(Laughter. He recovers)
—as endless as the love they share!
More laughter. Sifa laughs loudest. Ubora forces a smile.
Later. Their first dance. They hold each other.
SIFA:
(Whispering)
This is the happiest day of my life.
UBORA:
Mine too.
(But his voice lacks conviction.)
SIFA:
Tomorrow we leave for Argentina. Two weeks. Just us. The world.
UBORA:
(Thinking of the cost, the loan, the interest)
Yes. Just us.
She rests her head on his chest. He closes his eyes. He is twenty-seven years old. He is married to the woman he loves. He is in debt he cannot repay. And he has no idea that this—right here—is the peak. From here, there is only downhill.
PSALMIST enters, standing at the edge of the dance floor.
PSALMIST:
Dance, you happy fools.
Dance while the music plays.
The song is beautiful.
The movement is grace.
But all songs end.
All dances stop.
And when the silence comes,
What then?
What then?
(He watches as the newlyweds spin, oblivious.)
What then.
(He exits.)
---
ACT TWO
Scene One
Two years after the wedding. The small home in Ukiru County has been expanded—a new room, fresh paint, new furniture. UBORA, now twenty-eight, sits reading a medical journal. SIFA, twenty-four, enters, carrying groceries.
UBORA:
(Looking up)
You are home late.
SIFA:
The market was crowded. Everyone wanted to talk. "Mrs. Ubora, you look so beautiful." "Mrs. Ubora, when will you have children?" "Mrs. Ubora, how did you find such a wonderful husband?"
(She sets down the groceries)
I told them I found him when we were children. They did not believe me.
UBORA:
(Smiling)
It is a love story for the ages.
SIFA:
(Coming to sit beside him)
It is. And I am ready for the next chapter.
UBORA:
Which is?
SIFA:
I want to finish my studies. Properly. Medical school. But not here.
UBORA:
Where, then?
SIFA:
The university in Tambaza County. They have a biotechnology program that would prepare me for neurosurgery. It is a small school, but credited.
Ubora's smile fades.
UBORA:
Mikasa University?
SIFA:
Yes.
UBORA:
(Standing, agitated)
No.
SIFA:
No? What do you mean, no?
UBORA:
I have heard things about that place. The immorality. The female comrades—their dressing, their behavior. It is not an environment for a married woman.
SIFA:
(Standing, her own temper rising)
To this day, you still don't trust me.
(Pause)
To hell with you, then.
(She stops herself, hand over mouth.)
UBORA:
(Going around to her, placing his arms around her)
Babe, it's okay. You will go there. I am sorry for making you feel that way. I thought I was concerned.
(He taps her softly)
I am concerned because I love you. Not because I doubt you.
SIFA:
(Stiff in his arms)
Then trust me.
UBORA:
I do trust you. I do not trust them.
SIFA:
I can handle myself.
UBORA:
(Sighing)
Then go. Study. Become the neurosurgeon you were meant to be. I will support you.
Sifa relaxes slightly. She turns in his arms.
SIFA:
Promise?
UBORA
I have never broken a promise to you.
SIFA
(Kissing his cheek)
Then we will be fine.
But as they embrace, MKOSI appears at the door—unannounced, unwelcome.
MKOSI:
(Sarcastic)
How touching.
They break apart.
SIFA:
Mama. You should have called.
MKOSI:
And miss such a performance? Never.
(She walks in, looking around)
Nice home. Small, but nice. A teacher's salary goes far in this village.
UBORA:
(Controlled)
Welcome, Mama Mkosi. Would you like tea?
MKOSI:
No. I came to speak to my daughter. Alone.
Ubora looks at Sifa. She nods slightly.
UBORA:
I will go grade papers in the other room.
(He exits.)
MKOSI sits. She pats the seat beside her. Sifa hesitates, then sits.
MKOSI:
You have been married two years. No children. No career. No progress. What are you doing with your life?
SIFA:
I am preparing to go back to school. Biotechnology at Mikasa University.
MKOSI:
(Nodding)
That is wise. And what of your husband? Will he let you?
SIFA:
He already has.
MKOSI:
Good. But listen to me, daughter.
(She leans in)
You are beautiful. You are intelligent. You are wasting yourself in this village with a teacher who cannot even afford a proper honeymoon without going into debt.
SIFA:
Mama—
MKOSI:
I am not done. I know about Argentina. I know about the loan. I know about the interest he is still paying. He is a good man, your Ubora. But good men do not make good providers. They make good servants.
SIFA:
He is not a servant. He is my husband.
MKOSI:
And a husband provides. What has he provided? This house? A few pieces of furniture? A wedding that almost bankrupted him?
(She shakes her head)
You could have done better. You still can.
SIFA:
(Standing)
I love him.
MKOSI:
(Also standing)
Love does not pay bills. Love does not buy gowns. Love does not open doors. Use your brain, Sifa. Not your heart. Your heart is a fool. Your brain can make you a queen.
She turns to leave, then pauses at the door.
MKOSI:
Think about what I said.
(She exits.)
Sifa stands alone in the room. Her expression is troubled. PSALMIST appears in the doorway where MKOSI stood.
PSALMIST:
The serpent came to the garden.
Not with fangs bared,
But with a mother's face.
Not with a hiss,
But with a whisper:
"You could be more."
And Eve,
Beautiful, brilliant Eve,
She listened.
(Psalmist exits. Sifa remains, frozen.)
---
ACT THREE
Scene One
Mikasa University, Tambaza County. A vibrant, chaotic campus. Young women in fashionable clothes walk in groups. Music plays from the Hostel windows. SIFA, now twenty-five, walks across campus, dressed modestly but beautifully, carrying books.
She enters a lecture hall. Takes a seat. Two women slide into the row behind her—TAMAR and SHUNUH. Tamar is striking: bold makeup, expensive jewelry, clothes that reveal. Shunuh is pretty but worn, her eyes carrying old sorrow.
TAMAR:
(Leaning forward)
You are the new transfer. The married one. I have heard about you.
SIFA:
(Turning)
Heard what?
TAMAR:
That you are brilliant. That you are beautiful. That your husband is a teacher in some village and lets you study here alone.
SHUNUH:
(Quietly)
That must be hard. Being away from him.
SIFA:
It is. But we manage.
TAMAR:
(Smirking)
Manage. Such a small word for such a big sacrifice. Why does he not transfer here? Find work in Tambaza?
SIFA:
He has tenure in Ukiru. And there is a shortage of science teachers there. He feels responsible.
TAMAR:
Responsible to a village. While his wife is surrounded by temptation.
(She laughs)
No offense.
SIFA:
None taken. I am not easily tempted.
SHUNUH:
(Doubtfully)
No one is. Until they are.
Tamar shoots Shunuh a warning look. Shunuh looks down.
TAMAR:
We should have lunch. The three of us. There is a place off campus—good food, better conversation.
SIFA:
I should study.
TAMAR:
You can study after. Come. Let us show you what Mikasa has to offer.
Sifa hesitates. Then she nods.
---
Scene Two
Three months later. A café off campus. SIFA, TAMAR, and SHUNUH sit at a table. Empty coffee cups. Sifa's appearance has changed—subtly, but noticeably. Her clothes are a little tighter, her makeup a little bolder, her laughter a little louder.
TAMAR:
You see? I told you. You come alive when you are away from that village.
SIFA:
I love my husband.
TAMAR:
I did not say you did not. I said you come alive. Two things can be true.
SHUNUH:
(Nervously)
We should head back. We have a test tomorrow.
TAMAR:
(Ignoring her)
There is a party tonight. At the villa of a very important person. You should come.
SIFA:
I do not go to parties.
TAMAR:
You do not go to village parties. This is different. This is where connections are made. Where futures are built.
SHUNUH:
Tamar, she is married—
TAMAR:
(Sharply)
And married women do not network? Married women do not advance their careers? Please. This is the twenty-first century.
(To Sifa)
Just come. One hour. If you hate it, you leave. No harm, no foul.
Sifa looks at Tamar. She looks at Shunuh, whose eyes are pleading—for what, Sifa cannot tell.
SIFA:
One hour.
TAMAR:
(Smiling)
That is all I ask.
---
Scene Three
The villa. Lavish. Expensive cars in the driveway. Music thrumming. Men in suits, women in dresses that cost more than Ubora's monthly salary.
SIFA enters with Tamar and Shunuh. She is wearing a dress she borrowed from Tamar—revealing, elegant, nothing she would have chosen herself. She looks uncomfortable.
Men's eyes follow her.
TAMAR:
(Whispering)
You see? You are a magnet.
SHUNUH:
(Also whispering)
Be careful. These men are not like your husband.
Before Sifa can respond, a man approaches. He is older, distinguished, radiating power. This is TEMA, the Chief Minister of Mshinku State. Behind him stands his son, KONDEZA—younger, handsome, entitled.
TEMA:
(Extending his hand)
I do not believe we have met. I am Tema.
SIFA:
(Shaking his hand)
Sifa
TEMA:
Sifa. A beautiful name. Rare. Like its owner.
KONDEZA:
(Stepping forward)
And I am Kondeza. His son.
(He looks her up and down—not crudely, but appraisingly)
My father is not wrong. You are striking.
SIFA:
(Flustered)
Thank you.
TEMA:
What do you study, Sifa?
SIFA:
Biotechnology. Pre-med.
TEMA:
(Impressed)
Brains and beauty. A dangerous combination.
KONDEZA:
For whom?
TEMA:
(Laughing)
For men like us, my son. For men like us.
They laugh. Sifa smiles—politely, uncertainly. Tamar beams beside her. Shunuh looks at the floor.
---
Scene Four
Six months later. A luxury apartment in Tambaza City—not Sifa's, but one she visits regularly. SIFA lies in a massive bed, staring at the ceiling. TEMA sleeps beside her, snoring softly. Sifa's face is blank.
She rises quietly. Walks to the window. Looks out at the city lights.
FLASHBACK:
UBORA, younger, in their small home, laughing with her. "I have never broken a promise to you."
END FLASHBACK.
Sifa closes her eyes. When she opens them, there are tears.
She returns to bed. Lies down. Does not sleep.
---
Scene Five
The next day. A different location—Shunuh's small apartment. SIFA sits on a couch, wrapped in a blanket. SHUNUH sits across from her. TAMAR is not present.
SHUNUH:
You need to stop.
SIFA:
I know.
SHUNUH:
Do you? Because you keep going back.
SIFA:
(Hugging herself)
He gives me things, Shunuh. Things I have never had. A car. Clothes. Money for school. Money for my family.
SHUNUH:
And what does he take in return?
SIFA:
(Quietly)
My soul, I think. Piece by piece.
SHUNUH:
Then stop. Come home. Go back to your husband.
SIFA:
I cannot. He would know. He would see it in my eyes.
SHUNUH:
Then tell him. Confess. He is a good man. He might forgive you.
SIFA:
(Bitter laugh)
Might. That is a dangerous word.
(She looks at Shunuh)
How did you get here? How did you become... this?
SHUNUH:
(After a long pause)
I loved a man. He said he loved me. He took everything—my money, my body, my faith. And then he left. And I could not find my way back.
(She wipes her eyes)
Do not become me, Sifa. Please.
They sit in silence. Then Sifa's phone buzzes. She looks at it. Her face changes.
SHUNUH:
Who is it?
SIFA:
(Standing)
Kondeza. He wants to see me.
SHUNUH:
Do not go.
SIFA:
I have to.
SHUNUH:
You do not have to do anything.
SIFA:
(At the door)
You do not understand.
SHUNUH:
No. I understand perfectly. That is the problem.
Sifa exits. Shunuh puts her head in her hands.
---
Scene Six
Six months later. The home in Ukiru County. Night. UBORA sits alone in the dark. A single lamp illuminates his face. He looks older than his years—lines around his eyes, gray at his temples.
SIFA enters. She has been gone for three weeks, supposedly for exams. She looks different—not just in clothes, but in posture, in expression. There is hardness where softness used to be.
UBORA:
You are back.
SIFA:
I am back.
UBORA:
How were your exams?
SIFA:
Fine.
UBORA:
Just fine? You usually say excellent.
SIFA:
(Dropping her bag)
They were fine, Ubora. Not everything has to be a celebration.
UBORA:
(Standing)
I am not asking for a celebration. I am asking how you are. I have not seen you in three weeks.
SIFA:
You see me now.
UBORA:
Do I? Because the woman I am looking at does not look like my wife.
SIFA:
(Turning on him)
And what does your wife look like? Some village girl in a kangas, cooking ugali, waiting for you to come home from school? That wife?
UBORA:
That is not what I meant.
SIFA:
Then what did you mean?
Silence. Ubora walks toward her. Reaches for her hand. She pulls away.
UBORA:
Sifa. What is happening to us?
SIFA:
Nothing is happening. I am just tired. I am tired of this house. This village. This life.
UBORA:
This life? I built this life for you. I went into debt for your wedding. I paid for your school fees. I work every day so you can study—
SIFA:
(Shouting)
And I am grateful! Are you happy? I said it! I am grateful! But gratitude is not the same as happiness, Ubora. And I am not happy.
Her words hang in the air. Ubora looks as though she has struck him.
UBORA:
(Quietly)
Not happy.
SIFA:
(Softer, but not soft)
No. I am not.
UBORA:
Then what do you want?
SIFA:
I do not know. Space. Time. Something different.
UBORA:
Something different. That is what you want.
(He turns away)
There is someone else.
SIFA:
(Too quickly)
No.
UBORA:
(Turning back)
You answered too fast.
SIFA:
There is no one else. I told you.
UBORA:
Then swear it. On our marriage. On our children—the ones we do not have yet. Swear.
Sifa opens her mouth. Closes it. Opens it again.
SIFA:
I cannot.
Ubora nods slowly. He has known, perhaps. For months. But hearing it is different.
UBORA:
Who?
SIFA:
It does not matter.
UBORA:
Who, Sifa?
SIFA:
(Breaking)
A man. A powerful man. He gave me things, Ubora. Things you could not.
UBORA:
(Voice cracking)
What things? What could I not give you?
SIFA:
Safety. Security. A future that was not just scraping by.
UBORA:
I gave you everything I had.
SIFA:
I know. That is what breaks my heart. Everything you had was not enough.
Ubora sits down heavily. He puts his head in his hands.
UBORA:
Leave.
SIFA:
Ubora—
UBORA:
(Looking up, eyes red)
Leave this house. Go back to your powerful man. I will not stop you.
SIFA:
I do not want to leave like this.
UBORA:
How do you want to leave? With a hug? A kiss? A promise to write?
(He stands)
You broke us, Sifa. You. Not him. Not your mother. You.
SIFA:
(Crying now)
I am sorry. I am so sorry.
UBORA:
Sorry does not fix this. Sorry does not mend what you tore apart.
He walks to the door. Opens it.
Go.
Sifa stands frozen. Then she picks up her bag. She walks to the door. She pauses beside him.
SIFA:
I did love you. Once. Truly.
UBORA
(Not looking at her)
Once is not enough.
Sifa exits. Ubora closes the door. He leans his forehead against it. He does not move for a long time.
PSALMIST appears in the room, though the door has not opened.
PSALMIST:
Once is not enough.
Twice is too many.
Love is a math
No one can solve.
One plus one
Should equal forever.
But sometimes,
Sometimes,
One plus one
Equals zero.
(He walks to Ubora, places a hand on his shoulder)
Arise, broken man.
Arise, wounded heart.
The night is long,
But the morning
Is not required
To bring joy.
Sometimes the morning
Brings only
The strength
To endure
Another day.
Ubora does not move. Psalmist exits.
---
Scene Seven
One year later. A lawyer's office. UBORA sits across from SIFA. Papers lie between them. They are both composed, but the air is thick with unspoken things.
LAWYER:
(Reading)
The marriage between Ubora Mkono and Sifa Mkono is hereby dissolved. The husband retains custody of the two children. The wife relinquishes all claims to property, assets, and future earnings...
(He looks up)
Is this correct?
UBORA;
Yes.
SIFA:
Yes.
LAWYER:
Sifa, you understand that by signing this, you give up all rights to—
SIFA:
(Sharply)
I understand. Sign.
She signs. Ubora signs. The lawyer stamps the papers.
LAWYER:
It is done.
Sifa stands. She looks at Ubora—really looks at him, perhaps for the last time.
SIFA:
Those are your children. I will not fight you for them. They deserve better than me.
(She pauses)
You were a good husband, Ubora. I was a terrible wife.
UBORA:
(Quietly)
That does not help me sleep at night.
SIFA:
I know. Nothing will.
She turns to leave.
UBORA:
Sifa.
She stops. Does not turn.
UBORA:/
If you ever need anything—for the children, for yourself—I am still here. Even after this.
Sifa's shoulders shake. But she does not turn. She walks out.
Ubora stares at the door. The lawyer shuffles papers awkwardly.
LAWYER:
I am sorry. For your loss.
UBORA:
(Standing)
I did not lose her. I lost the idea of her. They are different things.
He exits. The lawyer watches him go.
---
ACT FOUR
Scene One
Mikasa University. SIFA's final year. She is twenty-six now. She is top of her class—first class honors within reach. But her eyes are hollow. She walks through campus like a ghost.
TAMAR and SHUNUH walk with her. Tamar is triumphant. Shunuh is haunted.
TAMAR:
You see? I told you. You did not need him. You have everything now.
SIFA:
Do I?
TAMAR:
Grades. Men. Money. What else is there?
SHUNUH:
(Under her breath)
Peace.
TAMAR:
(Ignoring her)
And now the Chief Minister has taken an interest in you. Properly. Not just the late-night visits. He wants to... establish something.
SIFA:
Establish what? He is married. His wife hates me.
TAMAR:
His wife hates every woman who looks at him. That is her job. Your job is to get what you can while you can.
SHUNUH:
(Louder)
This is not right, Tamar. She has children. She had a husband. She had a life.
TAMAR:
Had. Past tense. Now she has opportunity. Do not ruin this with your guilt.
Sifa stops walking.
SIFA:
I need to think.
TAMAR:
Think about what? The villa? The car? The business he promised to fund?
SIFA:
Think about whether I want to become you.
Tamar freezes. Shunuh gasps.
TAMAR:
What did you say?
SIFA:
You heard me. You are a gold digger, Tamar. You trade your body for things. I have watched you do it for three years. And I am becoming you.
(She turns to Shunuh)
And you—you are a ghost. You carry your wounds like trophies. You cannot move forward because you will not let go of the past.
(To both)
I do not want to be either of you. I do not know who I want to be. But I know it is not this.
She walks away. Tamar and Shunuh stare after her.
TAMAR:
(Recovering)
She will come back. They always come back.
SHUNUH:
(Quietly)
No. I do not think she will.
---
Scene Two
The Chief Minister's private residence. SIFA sits in a lavish living room. TEMA and KONDEZA sit across from her. The atmosphere is tense.
TEMA:
You have been avoiding us.
SIFA:
I have been thinking.
KONDEZA:
Thinking about what?
SIFA:
About what I want. What I am becoming.
TEMA:
(Leaning forward)
And what have you decided?
SIFA:
(Taking a breath)
I want a villa. On the coast. In Pwasi County. A million-dollar mansion. In my name.
Tema and Kondeza exchange glances.
KONDEZA:
That is... a significant request.
SIFA:
I have given you both significant... attention. I think it is fair.
TEMA:
(Carefully)
We will discuss it. These things take time.
SIFA:
I do not have time. I am pregnant.
Silence. Tema's face goes pale. Kondeza's eyes widen.
TEMA:
Pregnant?
SIFA:
With your child, Chief Minister. I have not been with anyone else for months.
KONDEZA:
(To his father)
You told me you were careful.
TEMA:
(To Sifa)
You told me you were on birth control.
SIFA:
(Shrugging)
Things happen.
TEMA:
(Standing, pacing)
This is... this is not good. My wife cannot know.
SIFA:
Then give me what I want. The villa. A medical business of my own. And I will disappear. You will never hear from me again.
KONDEZA:
And if we refuse?
SIFA:
(Standing)
Then I go to the press. "Chief Minister Tema impregnates university student, abandons her." How will that play with your voters? With your wife? With your party?
Silence. Tema stops pacing. He looks at her—really looks at her—and for the first time, she sees something like fear in his eyes.
TEMA:
You are more dangerous than I thought.
SIFA:
I learned from the best.
(She picks up her bag)
You have one week.
She exits. Tema and Kondeza sit in stunned silence.
KONDEZA:
What do we do?
TEMA:
(After a long pause)
We wait. And we plan.
---
Scene Three
Samtosha's private study. SAMTOSHA, Tema's wife, sits at a desk. She is elegant, cold, controlled. Before her stands a MAN in dark clothing—the MASONRY.
SAMTOSHA:
You know why you are here.
MASONRY:
I can guess.
SAMTOSHA:
There is a woman. Sifa. She has been... involved with my husband. And with my son.
(She pauses, controlling her anger)
She is now pregnant. With my husband's child, she claims. She is demanding a villa. A business. She is blackmailing him.
MASONRY:
What do you want me to do?
SAMTOSHA:
I want her gone. Permanently.
MASONRY:
That will cost you.
SAMTOSHA
(Opening a drawer, sliding an envelope across the desk)
Half now. Half when it is done.
The Masonry takes the envelope. He does not count it.
MASONRY:
How?
SAMTOSHA:
I have heard she is being flown to Pwasi Coast to view a villa. My husband is stalling, but he will eventually give in to her demands. Use that. Tamper with the plane.
MASONRY:
And the others on the plane?
SAMTOSHA:
(Coldly)
Collateral damage.
The Masonry nods. He turns to leave.
MASONRY:
It will look like an accident.
SAMTOSHA:
See that it does.
He exits. Samtosha sits alone. Her hands tremble slightly—not with guilt, but with rage.
---
Scene Four
Shunuh's apartment. Night. SIFA sits on the couch, her hand on her belly. She is not showing yet, but she touches herself as if she can feel the life inside. SHUNUH sits beside her. TAMAR is there too, uncharacteristically quiet.
SHUNUH:
You cannot go through with this. The blackmail. The demands. It will not end well.
TAMAR:
(Surprisingly)
For once, I agree with her. You are playing with fire, Sifa. These people have money. Money means power. Power means they can hurt you.
SIFA:
What choice do I have? I have no husband. No degree yet. A baby on the way. I need security.
SHUNUH:
You had security. You threw it away.
SIFA:
(Harshly)
Do you think I do not know that? Every night I lie awake and I see his face. Ubora's face. The way he looked at me when I walked out. The way he said, "Once is not enough."
(She wipes her eyes)
I loved him. I still love him. But I destroyed us. And I cannot go back.
TAMAR:
Then go forward. But carefully. Get what you can and get out.
A knock at the door. Shunuh opens it. A DELIVERY MAN holds a large envelope.
DELIVERY MAN:
For Sifa Mkono.
Sifa takes it. Opens it. Inside: plane tickets, a letter, a key.
SIFA:
(Reading)
"A plane will take you to Pwasi on Friday. A car will pick you up at the junction near your apartment at 6 PM. A real estate agent will meet you there. Choose your villa."
(She looks up)
It is happening.
TAMAR:
(Excited)
We are going with you.
SIFA:
We?
TAMAR
You think I am letting you do this alone? I am your best friend. I am coming.
SHUNUH:
(Reluctantly)
And I will come too. Someone needs to watch your back.
Sifa looks at them. For a moment, she almost smiles.
SIFA:
Thank you.
But PSALMIST, unseen, watches from the corner.
PSALMIST:
Thank you.
Two words
That mean nothing
When death is listening.
Thank you.
Two words
That cannot stop
What has already begun.
(He exits.)
---
Scene Five
Friday evening. The junction near Sifa's apartment. A LUXURY CAR—unregistered, illegally imported—waits. TAMAR and SIFA get in. SHUNUH hesitates on the sidewalk.
SHUNUH:
I have a bad feeling about this.
TAMAR:
(Through the window)
You always have a bad feeling. Get in.
Shunuh crosses herself—a gesture she has not made in years. She gets in.
The car drives toward Tomaso International Airport.
---
Scene Six
Tomaso International Airport. Private wing. A sleek jet sits on the tarmac. THE PILOT and AN AERONAUTICAL ENGINEER stand nearby. The engineer has just finished his inspection. He nods to someone offstage—the MASONRY, who watches from the shadows.
The three women arrive. They are ushered onto the plane.
TAMAR:
(Looking around)
This is how the other half lives.
SIFA:
(Quietly)
For now.
They take their seats. The engines start. The plane taxis.
And then—
Explosion. Fire. Screaming.
The plane is engulfed in flames.
---
Scene Seven
The aftermath. A field near the airport. Emergency vehicles. Firefighters. POLICE OFFICERS. The plane is a smoldering wreck.
The MASONRY, injured, tries to flee. He is confronted by EMERGENCY POLICE UNIT OFFICERS.
OFFICER 1:
Drop your weapon!
The Masonry fires. An officer falls, killed. The Masonry runs. Another officer pursues.
OFFICER 2:
(Into radio)
Shots fired! Officer down! Suspect fleeing west!
The chase continues offstage. Gunfire. Silence.
OFFICER 3:
(Radio crackle)
Suspect is down. Repeat, suspect is down. Two officers killed. Suspect deceased.
---
Scene Eight
A morgue. Three body bags—or what remains of bodies. Investigators in white coats. A CORONER speaks to a DETECTIVE.
CORONER:
The fire was intense. Bodies burned beyond recognition. We identified them through dental records and personal effects—a ring, a necklace, a phone.
DETECTIVE:
Sabotage?
CORONER:
The aeronautical engineer was found dead near the wreckage. Gunshot wound to the head. The plane's engines were tampered with. Someone wanted these women dead.
DETECTIVE:
And the engineer?
CORONER:
Murdered to silence him.
The detective looks at the body bags.
DETECTIVE:
Three women. Two young, one older. What did they do to deserve this?
CORONER:
(Shrugging)
Wrong place. Wrong time. Wrong company.
---
Scene Nine
A press conference. TEMA stands at a podium. His wife, SAMTOSHA, stands beside him, face composed. Journalists shout questions.
JOURNALIST 1:
Chief Minister, is it true that Sifa Mkono was having an affair with you?
TEMA:
(Calmly)
These rumors are baseless. I knew Sifa as a brilliant student, a promising young scientist. I had hoped my son would marry someone like her.
JOURNALIST 2:
Then why was she flying on a private jet owned by your associate?
TEMA:
She was being considered for a scholarship program. The flight was arranged by my office to facilitate her travel to an interview.
JOURNALIST 3:
And the rumors of a pregnancy? Of blackmail?
TEMA:
(His voice hardening)
Revolting lies spread by those who wish to destroy a young woman's reputation even in death. I will not dignify them with a response.
JOURNALIST 4:
Why was the investigation closed so quickly? Three days after the crash?
TEMA:
Because it was an accident. A tragic, terrible accident. Our investigators found no evidence of foul play.
(Behind him, SAMTOSHA's lips twitch—almost a smile.)
JOURNALIST 1:
Will there be a memorial?
TEMA:
Yes. A state funeral. Sifa Mkono was a daughter of Mshinku. She deserved better than what she got.
He steps back from the podium. The journalists shout more questions, but he ignores them.
---
Scene Ten
The funeral. A grand affair, more political than personal. Rows of politicians in dark suits. Banners with Sifa's face. Speeches about morality, about youth, about the dangers of moral perversion.
The PSALMIST stands at the edge of the crowd, dressed in black, observing.
POLITICIAN 1:
(At podium)
...and let this tragedy serve as a warning to our young people. When we stray from the path of righteousness, when we abandon our values, when we chase after worldly pleasures—this is what awaits us. Death before our time. Shame after we are gone.
Applause. Psalmist shakes his head.
PSALMIST:
(To audience)
They use her death
To sell their lies.
They wrap themselves
In her tragedy
Like vultures
In feathers.
MKOSI stands near the front, veiled, weeping—or pretending to weep. Beside her, BABA SIFA stands stoic.
KONDEZA sits in the front row, grieving—perhaps genuinely, perhaps not. SAMTOSHA sits beside him, her hand on his arm, comforting.
TEMA takes the podium.
TEMA:
Sifa was brilliant. Beautiful. Full of promise. My son loved her. Our family loved her. And we will carry her memory in our hearts forever.
(He pauses, composing himself)
We hope—we pray—that Kondeza will find someone like her again. Someone who will not leave so soon.
Murmurs through the crowd. Psalmist's eyes narrow.
PSALMIST:
Someone like her.
But not her.
Someone who will not leave.
But not stay.
They mourn the idea
While burying the woman.
This is politics.
This is power.
This is how the world
Eats its young.
---
Scene Eleven:
Outside the funeral. A gate. UBORA stands at the entrance, dressed in black, holding two small children by the hand—his and Sifa's children. A SECURITY GUARD blocks his way.
SECURITY GUARD:
You are not on the list.
UBORA:
I am her husband. I was her husband. These are her children.
SECURITY GUARD:
The list comes from the Chief Minister's office. You are not on it.
KONDEZA:
(Approaching from inside)
Let him through.
The guard steps aside. Kondeza stands before Ubora. They are the same age, but different species of man.
KONDEZA:
You cannot come in.
UBORA:
She was my wife.
KONDEZA:
She was mine at the end.
Ubora's hands tighten on his children's shoulders.
UBORA:
You do not know what love is.
KONDEZA:
(Quietly)
Maybe not. But I know what loss is. And I know that seeing you in there will cause a scene. For her sake—for her memory—do not come in.
Ubora looks past Kondeza at the funeral tent. He can see Sifa's photo—large, smiling, beautiful. He can see her mother veiled and weeping. He can see the politicians preening.
He looks down at his children. They do not understand where they are or why.
UBORA:
(To Kondeza)
She loved me once. Before she knew what power was. Before she knew what money was. She loved me when I had nothing but a bench in a shed and a promise.
KONDEZA:
People change.
UBORA
(Bitterly)
Yes. They do.
He turns. He walks away, children in tow. Kondeza watches him go.
---
Scene Twelve
The cemetery. After the crowds have left. A fresh grave—ashes buried, a headstone freshly placed. "SIFA MKONO. BELOVED DAUGHTER. BRILLIANT MIND. GONE TOO SOON."
UBORA approaches alone. He carries no flowers, no gifts—just himself.
He stands at the grave for a long moment.
UBORA:
(To the grave)
I told you once that there is time for everything under the sun. Time to love. Time to be one. Time to sow. Time to reap.
(He pauses)
I did not know there was also time to bury. Time to mourn. Time to ask questions that have no answers.
(He kneels. Touches the headstone.)
You were my first love. My only love. I tried to hate you for what you did. But I cannot. I can only grieve—for you, for us, for the children who will grow up without you.
(His voice breaks)
I hope you found peace. In the end. I hope you saw—before the fire—that none of it mattered. The money. The power. The men. None of it followed you here.
(He stands)
Goodbye, Sifa.
He turns. He walks away. The sun sets.
PSALMIST enters, walking slowly to the grave.
PSALMIST:
(To audience)
What a mysterious world we live in.
What a mischievous world there is.
What a terrible legacy we create
When we lose track of our origin.
She had it all:
Love, promise, intelligence, beauty.
She threw it away
For things that burn—
Literally, in the end.
Make your choice today.
The power is in your hands.
(He looks at the grave)
Rest, Sifa. You were not evil. You were not a monster. You were a girl who wanted more and did not know how to want it without destroying what she had. A girl who forgot that love is not a feeling but a choice—and made the wrong choice, over and over, until choices could not save her.
(He places a hand on the headstone)
May those who hear your story learn from your mistakes.
May those who judge you remember their own failures.
And may we all, in the end, be forgiven
For the things we did
When we did not know
What we were doing.
Psalmist exits.
The stage holds only the grave, the fading light, and the memory of a girl who once sat in a shed with her childhood sweetheart and promised forever.
---
EPILOGUE
Five years later. The small home in Ukiru County. The same shed where Sifa and Ubora once sat. UBORA, now thirty-three, sits alone. He is grading papers—the same work, the same village, the same life.
Two children play in the yard—a boy of seven, a girl of five. They laugh. They run. They do not remember their mother.
MKOSI approaches the gate. She is older now, hunched, her fierceness dimmed.
UBORA:
(Looking up)
Mama Mkosi.
MKOSI:
May I come in?
Ubora nods. She enters, sits across from him.
MKOSI:
I came to say... I was wrong.
Ubora says nothing.
MKOSI:
I pushed her away from you. I told her she could do better. I fed her ambitions until they ate her.
(She wipes her eyes)
Every day I see her face. Every night I hear her voice. And I know—I know—I helped kill her.
UBORA:
(Quietly)
She made her own choices.
MKOSI:
But I made her think those choices were right.
Silence.
UBORA:
Why are you here?
MKOSI:
(Looking at the children)
Because they are all I have left of her. And I want to know them. If you will let me.
Ubora looks at his children—laughing, innocent, whole. He looks at MKOSI—broken, grieving, old.
UBORA:
They do not know who you are.
MKOSI:
Then tell them. Tell them I am their grandmother. Tell them... tell them their mother loved them. Even if she did not know how to love herself.
Ubora is silent for a long moment.
UBORA:
(Finally)
Come back on Sunday. We will have lunch. You can meet them properly.
MKOSI nods. She stands. She walks to the gate, pauses, looks back.
MKOSI:
You were the best thing that ever happened to her. And she was too blind to see it.
She exits.
Ubora watches her go. Then he looks at the shed—the bench where he and Sifa once sat, where she once leaned her head on his shoulder, where she once asked if it was over yet or just beginning.
UBORA:
(To himself)
It was just beginning. And it was already over. And I did not know which was worse.
He returns to his papers. The children play. The sun sets.
PSALMIST appears, standing at the edge of the yard.
PSALMIST:
And so the story ends.
Not with a bang,
Nor with a whisper,
But with a man
Grading papers
In a village
That never believed
He would amount to anything.
He is not a surgeon.
He is not rich.
He is not famous.
He is a teacher
In a school
That lacks science teachers.
He is a father
Raising children
Alone.
He is a man
Who loved
And lost
And loved again
The only way he knows how:
By showing up.
Every day.
Even when showing up
Feels like dying.
(He looks at the audience)
What about you?
What have you loved
And lost?
What have you thrown away
For things that burn?
What choices are you making
Today
That will bury you
Tomorrow?
The power is in your hands.
Make your choice.
Make it well.
And may you find,
At the end of your story,
Not ashes,
But peace.
(Psalmist exits. The stage holds Ubora, the children, the setting sun. Lights fade to black.)
---
THE END
"Love is not a feeling. Love is a choice. Choose wisely."
AUTHOR'S NOTE
This play is dedicated to every young person who has ever confused lust for love, wealth for worth, and power for purpose. May we learn from Sifa's mistakes without needing to make them ourselves. May we love without losing ourselves. And may we remember, always, that the people who truly matter are not the ones who can give us things, but the ones who stay when we have nothing left to give.
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