THE KNITTING STRAW

Strella D. Alfon

Curtains open on Sylvia, dressed for church because it is a Sunday in the sala of a house furnished with taste,
but not too much money.

There’s a two-seater sofa right angled against window; near the sofa a low table on which, beside the usual
table accessories cigarette box lighter, ashtray, vase flowers, -- there is a pile of straw, the kind of straw that
people are knitting everywhere. Beside the straw is a dainty plastic basket in which is kept a straw bag in the
making. On the sofa itself, there are several straw bags already knit, even one already fitted with a handle.

Primitiva comes in, in the stylized kimono now so popular with the women. She bears a cup of chocolate in her
hand and places it on the coffee table as she herself sits on a chair across from Sylvia, draws the basket with
the work in it and smoothly, gracefully, deftly, works on a bag. She looks at her mother, her hands busy at the
straw and waits for a little while to speak. Then, although she opens her mouth, she closes it again and applies
herself to the straw. Primitiva puts down her work and sips at the chocolate in her cup, then puts down the cup
again.

Sylvia crosses the room (stage) to the sofa, picks the bag with the handle and looks at the intricate pattern of its
design. She looks at the other knit bags too, studies the pattern and then places them on the sofa as they were.
She sits down, places her own leather handbag on the floor and then proceeds to stretch the straw piled on
the coffee table. Thus preoccupied, she does not see her husband tying his tie, peep in, and see her so
engrossed in her straw work and goes out again.

Finally, Primitiva holds up the straw bag she works on and clears her throat to speak.

PRIMITIVA: Breakfast?
SYLVIA: Finished, Mother.
PRIMITIVA: Is Mimi going to church with you and your husband?
SYLVIA: (putting down the straw and taking a deep breath) What am I going to do Mother, what shall I do?
PRIMITIVA: What do you want to do?
SYLVIA: I don’t know. I’m asking you. Help me. (Unseen by both, a very pretty young girl has also peeped in. This
I Mimi, and her face is in the current vogue of the young; eyes shadowed, hair draped to guiches at the ears,
her dress a shift that outlines the shapely figure beneath, high heels and a veil in her hand. She stands unwilling
to be seen, yet half-hoping she can hear. Unobserved, she goes back out.)
PRIMITIVA: What does Mimi say?
SYLVIA: Nothing. She cries, she looks at herself at the mirror but she says nothing.
PRIMITIVA: What did you ask her?
SYLVIA: I asked her who. I asked her when, where – all those things. For answer, she only cries. Mama, what will I
do?
PRIMITIVA: Just right now, go to church and pray. (Enter Bernie, already )
BERNIE: Let’s go. (He approaches his mother-in-law, bends down for the hand, then her cheeks. The old woman
puts her hand around the girl’s waist.)
PRIMITIVA: Mimi, let the two of us go to church later. You leave her behind Syl, there are many masses yet.
MERNIE: No, No, Mama, we’ll take Mimi with us.
MIMI: I’ll be alright, May I stay behind? (Bernie looks at his daughter, Primitiva continues her straw knitting for a
while; Mimi sits at the sofa and stretches the straw that her mother has been doing)
PRIMITIVA: Mimi? (She stands up, sits on the sofa and pats the seat beside her so Mimi will transfer to it.) What will
you do?
MIMI: I don’t know, Lola.
PRIMITIVA: Doesn’t he want to marry you? )The girl shakes her head.) Who is he, hija? (The girl just shakes her
head again.) But we have to know, child. We have to ask him at least what he feels like doing. (The girl stops
stretching straw, looks at her grandmother a long, long time and then bends her head to the straw again. The
grandmother takes the straw out of the girl’s fingers, puts it aside, holds Mimi’s hand so they can look each
other in the eyes.) (Almost whispering) Child, don’t you know? (The girl hangs her head and shakes it, and the
grandmother puts her hand to her breast before she can raise it again to cross herself.) Tell me what
happened.
MIMI: (Almost inaudibly) We held a party. They gave us something to drink.
PRIMITIVA: Who were they?
MIMI: (Almost impatiently)Friends, Grandmother. Everybody drank a little. Everybody was gay.
PRIMITIVA: But we allowed you to go without chaperons because we thought you would only go out with the
sons of our own friends!
MIMI: They were, Grandmother.
PRIMITIVA: Who, Mimi? Who? Which one?
MIMI: I don’t know. (She repeats herself, slowly, like death) I … don’t know…(and bursts into tears on her
grandmother’s bosom. The old woman holds the little quivering girl and wipes at her own tears and waits for
Mimi’s sobs to subside. She gives the girl her handkerchief to blow her nose in and then smoothes her kimono
and brushes the girl’s hair back in place and waits for the girl to fix her face. She indicates some tear strains that
must be wiped, and after the girl is settled down, the old woman goes back to her knitting.)
PRIMITIVA: Would you like to tell me about it?
MIMI: It was the coming out party of Gigi Lopez. The boys --
PRIMITIVA: Which boys?
MIMI: Jimmy…
PRIMITIVA: Literal? (Miminods)
MIMI: Pee Wee…
PRIMITIVA: Pando? (Nod from Mimi)
MIMI: Botchuk…
PRIMITIVA: Rivers…
MIMI: Limpo…
MIMI: Yes, Lola, and Boyet Fernandez and Tangkad Rodriguez. They said to us girls the party was dying on its
feet, and we could all escape and go nightclubbing.
PRIMITIVA: And who were the girls?
MIMI: Me, Bingo, Baby, Marilou, Rosemarie, and I think Bonbon. We asked permission from Gigi’s mother and
father to go for a ride on the boulevard and they said – Yes, take care and don’t get into any trouble. So off we
went in three cars. We went to the colonial, danced a while there, and started drinking there. Then one of the
boys suggested the drinks were costing them so much and why don’t we go somewhere else. And Jimmy said
his father’s rest house was not occupied, if we went there, we could sack the bar. They seemed gay and off we
went. The resthouse was in Pasig, and we went. The servants opened the place and we went to the bar and
we drank whatever the boys gave us.
PRIMITIVA: But, Mimi, you are not allowed to drink.
MIMI: The boys said we were poor sports if we didn’t, and no one wants to be called a poor sport, Grandma.
MIMI: I don’t know, Grandma. They took turns in mixing drinks and we took whatever they gave us. Then
somebody started dancing and we danced. Somebody turned off the lights. We drank, we danced…
(Her manner is a dazed girl, the things she recalls are clear, yet painful, and this is probably the first time she has
really talked about it.) That’s all I remember, Until I woke up with a headache lying around and the boys too.
(The girl carries her hands to her face suddenly and stops for a long, long time until the grandmother looks up
from her knitting and almost speaks, but desists.)
PRIMITIVA: (After a bit of moment of silence.) Mimi?
MIMI: We were all naked.
PRIMITIVA:( The grandmother puts her work down and stand up and stands by the window, her breast heaving,
but not saying a thing. After a while, she walks to the girl, touches the bent shoulders gently, then roughly, then
angrily goes back to her own seat again.)
MIMI: I dressed myself, woke the other girls. They dressed.
PRIMITIVA: And then?
MIMI: We left the boys still sleeping, and we begged one of the servants to have someone drive us home. But
no one could drive for us or else they didn’t want to help us. They called a taxi and we went home.
PRIMITIVA: Why didn’t you tell us sooner?
MIMI: We had sworn to ourselves we would never tell what happened to us. It seemed such a shameful thing.
We thought we could forget it and try never to get into that kind of vise again. The my menstruation did not
come.. I told the girls and we tried to look around for medicine, or for tablets or anything that could help, but
nothing worked. I had to tell mother… Lola…(girl breaks down again) Lola… I don’t want a baby … sobs
bitterly.
PRIMITIVA: (shushing the girl) Hush, Hush, Hush child. Crying won’t do any good now. Let us think…
MIMI: I don’t want a baby… (Enter Daniel. He is a man with his hair all grey, but it gives him a very rakish look, a
distinguished look. Add to this fact that he hold himself very straight and he could pass for a diplomat to the
career born.)
DANIEL: Sunday morning! Not a day for tears. Why is the prettiest girl in the Philippines crying on a Sunday
morning?(The girl straightens up, tries to dry her tears. She tries a wan smile at her grandfather, but only
succeeds in bringing up more tears.)
PRIMITIVA: Darling go and wash your face, make yourself pretty for church. Go … (She goes, after a brief
embrace with her grandfather. The grandfather leaves the room a while, comes back almost immediately with
a tray of coffee, cups, service, etc. She seats herself, and the old man very decorously takes the chair opposite
the sofa, facing her, and serves themselves coffee.) How much money do you have Daniel?
DANIEL: You should know, you keep our bank book.
PRIMITIVA: How much more can you lay your hand on?
DANIEL: How much do you need?
PRIMITIVA: Can we take a trip abroad?
DANIEL: Aren’t we little too old for that?
PRIMITIVA: We are taking Mimi with us.
DANIEL: (Brightening up) Good, good, let’s. How much, I wonder, will that cost? (Ruefully ) We really haven’t
done much saving you know…
PRIMITIVA: Why should we? ( She looks at him askance, smiling, but some meaning is hidden behind her smile.)
DANIEL: (Squirms, uncomfortable, but endeavoring to keep his aplomb) There’s enough, though, I am sure.
PRIMITIVA: Enough anyhow, to do something for the young one.
DANIEL: Why don’t we let Sylvia and Bernie go?
PRIMITIVA: Somehow I think it is better if we are the ones. She confides in me, she never comes to talk with her
mother and we are too old to moralize.
DANIEL: Well, after all, what can moralization do? If the harm has been done…
PRIMITIVA: Yes, after the harm has been done, there’s nothing left except to take up from there. (Looks at him
with her eyes glittering) I had to do that once…
DANIEL: Now Primmy, let’s not go into that. That’s past and gone.
PRIMITIVA: Gone? Past? The girl would be older than Mimi, Daniel, do you realize that? Do you ever see her? Do
you ever hear from her? (Bringing herself up short) Good God! Why am I saying these things? (Looks at him up
and down, amused, scornful, smiling). Until the day you die
DANIEL: And I could die tomorrow, Primmy, and you have to believe that I am sorry… I was sorry…I have make
up for it all. I have been good…
PRIMITIVA: Well, I have been good, too haven’t I?
DANIEL: Good. Primmy? You’ve been cool, you’ve been distant, you’ve been a stranger! I tried so hard to
make you see it was merely passing indiscretion… It has come home to roost, don’t you think? Mimi…
DANIEL: What is wrong with Mimi anyway?
PRIMITIVA: (Still not leaving her knitting) She’s pregnant. She was raped and she doesn’t know who actually
raped her. (Looks up, smiles) Nice now for a Sunday, isn’t it? (Daniel has been stunned by the news.
DANIEL: My little Mimi! I’ll kill the man!
PRIMITIVA: (Slowly, a though to a fractions child) She doesn’t know who.
DANIEL: I know an abortionist…
PRIMITIVA: I am sure you do…(Sarcastically)
DANIEL: We must prevent this ruin for her. We must do something and she can have her baby without fear or
shame. If we could do that for the other one – I (looks at him again) Why not for her, our own granddaughter?
DANIEL: Poor Mimi! Why her?
PRIMITIVA: She is our most beloved. That’s why.
DANIEL: That’s unfair!
PRIMITIVA: I said that (but this is to herself, sadly, almost whispering to herself) I sad that too. I could not say
anything else. It passed the baby came, and I had to, stay put, be the steady one… Our Catholic concepts say
these passing indiscretions are just like matrimonial storms. I watch this man, he grows handsomer that he was
when he was young and yet I could not be a woman to him. Never ever more. Until the day he dies…
(Unconsciously at her feet. She looks down, realizes what she is doing and is undecided whether to knit or to
unravel. She looks at the handsome graying man sitting across from her, sipping at a fresh cup of coffee, and
she unravels the bag after all. Sylvia and Bernie come in. They carry a grocery bag with them and Sylvia tears
open the bat to reveal fruits, juicy, fresh, luscious. She and Bernie kiss the hand of the old woman and the man,
and the Sylvia goes out come back with a tray on which she arranges the fruits. She places the compote at the
coffee table near the grandfather and the grandmother.)
DANIEL: What are you going to do about Mimi, Bernie?
BERNIE: I…I…
SYLVIA: Papa. I don’t know. We don’t know. We were hoping you do.
PRIMITIVA: We could take her on a trip abroad…
BERNIE: I don’t have that kind of money, Mama.
PRIMITIVA: I don’t need your money. We’ll spend our own.
BERNIE: Well, she’s my daughter, you know.
PRIMITIVA: She’s ours, too, all we’ve got, and since we need the rest anyway, we’ll go. We’ll take her with us.
BERNIE: Haven’t we overlooked the fact we could have the baby removed?
SYLVIA: What?
SYLVIA & PRIMITIVA: What?
BERNIE: (Very seriously) I mean it. Why should we allow a human being into this world who doesn’t even know its
father? Anyhow, no one knows yet that Mimi is pregnant, except us. When she does have her baby, if we allow
her to have it, how are we going to explain it? What kind of a future will Mimi ever look forward to with this in her
past? (Looks around. Everyone is a little disturbed.)
DANIEL: What do you say now, you, Primitiva, you Sylvia? We could have her aborted in Japan. They say it is
done very clinically there, no need to be sub rosa about it. Or Sweden, if we can reach that far. (Looks around.
Sylvial walks about, unable to say anything. Primitiva is furiously unraveling the bag so that there is almost
nothing left of its original shape, except the straw that piles up on the floor.) Isn’t anybody going to say
something?
SYLVIA: Mama. Stop that and make the decision. You’re the one who always decides.
PRIMITIVA: I have already made my decision. I will have nothing to do with a baby’s death. But it is not really for
us to decide. Mimi should be the one.
SYLVIA: How can she? Why should she be the one? She is only a child
PRIMITIVA: Not anymore. She has life inside her now.
DANIEL: You’re harsh, as always. Under that gentleness, you hide a deep CRUELTY. What you want is to make
the girl suffer for what she has done.
BERNIE: Pity my daughter.
PRIMITIVA: Let Mimi decide. We can only stand by.
BERNIE: I am her father. I can decide for her.
PRIMITIVA: And what do you say?
BERNIE: (appealing to his mother-in-law) Surely God will understand
PRIMITIVA: Don’t look at me. He doesn’t tell me what He thinks.
BERNIE: Papa, don’t you think I am right?
DANIEL: (Looking at Primitiva) She’s only a little girl Primmy. Maybe we should do what Bernie says we should.
PRIMITIVA: (Turning her back on all of them) I said, we will let Mimi decide. (At this precise moment, enter the
girl, virginal, young. Her eyes are moist, and her lips are still quivering with thought she has been thinking. She
hesitates on the doorway, as she sees all her elders before her, almost retreating, except that her grandmother
gets up and walks to her and pulls her inside. Prim kiss her, Mimi looks up t Bernie the at Sylvie, the at Daniel,
before she decides to seek grandfather’s arms, and smilingly, gently, kisses him on the cheek, too. Prim gets
Mimi to sit down and together they face the others, side by side on the sofa, the straw at their feet, the straw
bag put aside on the floor. ) Mimi, we have been talking about you, You must make a decision and we lell
follow yok, what you decide.
BERNIE: But that is not fair. She’s only a child, Mama. She cannot make the right decision.
DANIEL: We will love you just the same, child, nothing will change.
MIMI: A decision about what?
PRIMITIVA: Do you want this baby or do you want an abortion? (Mimi looks hand and holds it, and distictly, but
a small voice, speaks) I will flings out his hands and expresses himself with a profound shrug. Primitiva looks at the
pile of straw at their feet, and decides to pick it up again. Silent, her hands busy, she suffers Mimi’s kiss, and then
looks around to dismiss the company present.)
PRIMITIVA: (To Daniel) Were you not going to a meeting?
SYLVIA: Mimi, don’t you want to come with us?
PRIMITIVA: She is staying. We have a lot to discuss. (Bernie and Sylvia go out. Daniel hesitates. The old woman
looks at him as if to dismiss him, but he settles himself in a chair and says that he is not going anywhere.) We’ll
travel around the world, would you like that? (The girl looks at her and impishly, girlishly, shakes her head)
PRIMITIVA: I can’t do that. I can only hope to soften it.
MIMI: I am scared, Gram.
PRIMITIVA: Poo little love. We can go away. No one need know.
DANIEL: Don’t you say anything now, young lady. I have been looking forward to this and you’re going to rob
me of it.
MIMI: We have to come home anyway, Gram. (The old despair shows again) What’s the use?
PRIMITIVA: (She applies herself to her crocheting and knitting again, more industriously) Mimi, look at this bag.
Pretty? (The girl nods dumbly)
MIMI: But you keep ripping it up. Grandma. You make it and then you rip it.
PRIMITIVA: I find more joy in the making, child. I find it more satisfying to do. When this is finished, my fingers miss
the work.
MIMI: So much waste of time, Gram.
PRIMITIVA: Not really. Maybe the next bag I will make will be prettier.
MIMI: What about the others you don’t rip up anymore?
PRIMITIVA: Those? Someone asks for them. Somone likes them well enough to want them as they are.
MIMI: That’s a pretty color. I will want it when you finish it.
PRIMITIVA: No matter what make?
MIMI: No matter, Grandmother. (The old woman gives her a hug) Grandma, who makes these things happen?
PRIMITIVA: Up there, darling. He is probably knitting our straw. Maybe next time. He’ll make a better pattern.
MIMI: Or rip it clean away, Grandma! (Sobs into her grandmother’s arms.)
PRIMITIVA: We can, as we all discussed, have it done away with Mimi.
MIMI: I am afraid, Gram…
PRIMITIVA: I am too, child… (Daniel pulls at his pipe, then appraches them and cuddles them both. Prim tries to
take off his arms from around her bu Daniel refuses to let go.)
DANIEL: Mimi. He can sometimes make things come right. Even when you think everything is wrong. You can
always unravel a pattern make a prettier one. We managed, Prim, didn’t we? We were not too unhappy.
PRIMITIVA: I was …. Always… All the time…
DANIEL: I reformed, I went straight.
PRIMITIVA: Except that every month as I sent money to her, I think with new agony of the hurt…
DANIEL: Forgive me…
MIMI: What are you two talking about? (In distance, a bell rings. The old ones look at her, then at each other,
and smile. Bells ring clearer.)
Estrella Alfon(1917-1983) Region 7 Cebu.
A Cebuana, Alfon is the most prolific woman writer before World War II. Her award-winning stories were
collected in Magnificence(1960). Her short story, Fairy Tale in the City, brought her to court for obscenity
changes . Alfon also wrote plays, four of which swept all the awards at the Arena Theatre Playwriting Contest of
1961-62.