The Hungry Woman

Mama Sal smokes her pipe as Chac-Mool approaches, carrying his backpack. He is going away, he says. Mama Sal suggests that she may join him in Aztlán, as she has outlived “all the lovely women in [her] life” (82). She asks a favor of Chac-Mool: If she never returns to Aztlán, she does not want to be buried in Phoenix. She asks Chac-Mool to cremate her and scatter the ashes on the Jemez Mountains in New Mexico. Chac-Mool promises to do so, though he does not know where the mountains are. As Mama Sal leaves, she remembers a gift for Chac-Mool from Luna. She hands Chac-Mool the blue corn kernels, suggesting that Luna wanted him to scatter them in New Mexico and see if they take root. Mama Sal urges Chac-Mool to say goodbye to his mother while she searches for a beer. Chac-Mool scatters the kernels in the cornfield as the light fades out.

Chac-Mool enters the kitchen, where Medea is sitting with herbs and tequila in front of her. She tried to get Luna back, she says, but refused to beg. Since Chac-Mool has already been to the border and has been approved to return to Aztlán, Medea says, he should go. Chac-Mool does not want to leave his mother “like this,” a line that she claims to have heard from other men in the past. Chac-Mool imploringly asks his mother who he is supposed to be without anybody in the community in Phoenix to guide him toward an idea of manhood. He does not want to grow up without a father and without a country, especially after his mother raised him on the idea of the importance of a homeland. Medea seizes her son, urging him to realize that he—rather than a place—is her land. Chac-Mool insists that this turn of events is not his fault, which makes Medea freeze.

Medea has held her breath for 13 years, she says, waiting for Chac-Mool to speak like other men. She drinks more as she defends her choices in the past. She tells him to go, but he refuses to leave. Chac-Mool tells his mother that she is “crazy,” just like Jasón told him. The only reason he did not sneak away with his father, he claims, is because he was taught to be loyal. When he leaves, however, he insists that he will now leave like a man. He did not choose his father, he reminds his mother, but she chose Jasón to be the father of her child. Medea slaps Chac-Mool. After a moment of staring at his mother in disbelief, he exits. As Medea slumps into the chair, Mama Sal enters. Medea mourns that the babies are slipping through her fingers, and she can do nothing to stop them. She has lost Chac-Mool and Luna, she says as she sifts herbs through her hands. Medea feels as though a stranger has taken over her body. Medea dumps the herbs into a pot.

Elsewhere on the stage, the Cihuatateo return and stand beside Medea. They reenact a traditional birthing ceremony and chant in Nahuatl. An infant emerges from inside Medea, which is revealed to be Luna in a lifeless form. She cannot be revived, so the Cihuatateo scatter. Medea is left alone on the stage, save for Cihuatateo West, who takes on the form of Savannah and covers Luna and herself with a white sheet. They emerge, joined together by the same sheet, now worn as clothing. This symbolizes the Aztec marriage ritual. The prison guard enters and announces, “[B]lood wedding.” Medea speaks, revealing that she was pregnant. Savannah pulls Luna back into the sheet, assuring her that she will never leave her.

The stage reverts to an earlier setup, with Medea praying before the illuminated figure of Coatlicue. She offers up a cup and speaks about it as a sacrifice. Though she would have preferred to die in childbirth like the Cihuatateo, she will end her life by consuming this drink. She does not want to give up her son to her enemies, but she does not know what she can offer Chac-Mool. She must walk a sad road, she believes. Chac-Mool enters, hoping to say goodnight before his long trip the next day. Medea asks to bless her son before he leaves. He agrees, approaching his mother with open hands. Medea wafts Chac-Mool with the burning copal and speaks to him about their ancestors, who must pity them. After she is done, Medea invites Chac-Mool to drink atole with her. As Chac-Mool exits to dress in his pajamas, he runs back to his mother and embraces her. As Medea tries to push him away, he clings tighter to her. Chac-Mool tells his mother that he loves her, so she urges him to get changed and return to drink the atole with her. Once he has gone, she reveals a bag of herbs and sprinkles them into the atole while speaking to the statue about how this will destroy the “manhood” inside her son.

Chac-Mool returns, dressed for bed. Medea suggests that they step outside and drink together while overlooking the cornfield. He feels bad that he did not harvest the tall maize before leaving. There will be plenty of corn to harvest in Aztlán, Medea assures him. Chac-Mool drinks the atole. Medea holds him in her arms and sings to him as he becomes drowsy. She urges him to “sleep the innocent sleep of the childless” (91). Chac-Mool passes out in his mother’s arms. She tries to drag him into the cornfield but struggles. The Cihuatateo appear and carry Chac-Mool into the cornfield while Medea pulls the overgrown stalks from the ground. She becomes increasingly frantic as her white shirt billows behind her and the pile of stalks grows higher, forming an altar of sorts. The Cihuatateo place Chac-Mool’s body on the makeshift altar. Medea speaks, lamenting how much easier her life would have been if her son had been her daughter. She accuses Coatlicue of betrayal, referring to Chac-Mool as Huitzilopotchli, the Aztec sun-god. She calls out to Luna and rejects Coatlicue. As she cries out, the Cihuatateo echo her wails. Their lament fades into the sound of the wind, the cry of La Llorona, as the lights fade to black.

Cihuatateo North and Cihuatateo South appear on stage in a statuesque pose. They begin a slow, ritualistic dance. The lights rise on Luna, sitting at a potter’s wheel. Mama Sal’s satchel is at her feet. With her hands on the clay, Luna reflects on her love for Medea. As Luna stands, the prison guard enters and dresses Luna in a suit jacket. She hands Luna a bouquet of white flowers and the satchel, then leads her to a psychiatric ward. The prison guard then joins the Cihuatateo. Medea is at the edge of her bed in the ward. Luna greets her. Medea responds but does not look at Luna. It is Saturday again, they agree. Medea asks about Mama Sal, who Luna says is old and tired. Medea feels old and tired as well. Luna describes a dream in which she saw Medea, and Medea states her appreciation for Luna’s innocence. Luna has “handled dozens of women” (94), Medea says, but her hands remain virginal. Medea guesses correctly that Luna has now left Savannah. Medea lacks Luna’s innocence. Instead, she says, she is spoiled, and she spoils everything she touches. She reflects on Luna’s dream, which Luna suggests may have represented Medea giving birth to herself. From Mama Sal’s satchel. Luna gives Medea a small icon of Cihuatateo. Medea urgently asks Luna whether she died in the dream while giving birth to herself, but Luna does not know.

The nurse enters as Medea and Luna stare into one another’s eyes. The nurse takes the flowers to be placed in water, joining the other members of the Cihuatateo at the rear of the stage. Medea thanks Luna and then asks her to leave. Luna bids farewell to Medea and exits. Medea examines the Cihuatateo figurine, then looks upstage. As she recites a prayer, Chac-Mool appears before her. Medea believes that he is a ghost, but Chac-Mool insists that he is not. Medea ignores him and speaks about his beauty and his emerging manhood. When he insists that he is Chac-Mool, Medea does not want to listen to him. If he is alive, she says, then she has committed no crime and should not be in the psychiatric hospital. She should not be strapped to the hospital bed; she should not suffer from violent nightmares; and she should not be forced to mourn her dead son. Medea is in a hospital, Chac-Mool says, which is also a prison, but he has come to take her “home.” He urges her to look at the moon through the barred window. Leading her to the window, he urges her to look at the waxing moon. By the time the moon is full, he says, she will be a saguaro of her home. Leading her back to the bed, Chac-Mool puts a handful of powdered herbs in his mother’s water. He tells her to drink, to help her to sleep. He holds her head while she drinks and holds her in his arms as she falls asleep. The light fades, leaving only the shimmering moon and the Cihuatateo, dancing silently.