Chuy’s Speech: “I want it to stop. No more cages, no more escaping, no more swollen feet.”

By Daniel A. Olivas

In my play, Waiting for Godínez, each night, immigration officials kidnap Jesús (aka Chuy) and throw him in a cage with the intent of deporting him. But each time, Jesús escapes and makes it back to the city park to be with Isabel (aka Chavalita) to wait for the mysterious Godínez. Inspired by Beckett’s iconic Godot play but with humor deeply steeped in Latinx culture, Waiting for Godínez explores the meaning—and absurdities—of identity and belonging.

My play previously went through development after its first reading with Playwrights’ Arena last year (directed by Dr. Daphnie Sicre). The current version of the play was chosen to be in The Road Theatre’s Summer Playwrights Festival and will stream via Zoom in a reading on Sunday, July 25 at 6:00 PM PST. This version is directed by Sara Guerrero. For more information on how you may watch it, please visit the Festival’s page.

One of the ways the play developed after that first 2020 reading with Playwrights’ Arena resulted in my writing of a new speech for Jesús/Chuy where he goes into the horrendous details of his capture by immigration agents. After sitting through rehearsals and watching the actors perform this portion of the play, I was in tears. The actors brought to life the anguish and absurdity of one person’s existence as he is hunted and hounded because of his immigration status. I want to share that speech with you now, and I hope you will make time to watch the entire play on July 25: 

JESÚS

(Sighs, resigned to ISABEL’s desire to hear all the details. Stands, limps to center stage, looks up at the tree, thinking, turns to audience, envisions the events he is about to recount, starting slowly, assuredly, but as his tale continues, he grows more agitated, frightened.)

Last night, you sat under that tree promising to keep watch over me as I sleep on this bench. You said, “Chuy, my dear friend, you have nothing to worry about. Te prometo. A promise from me is as good as gold.” That is what you say every night: Good as gold. So, I believed you. Why not? We have been friends since we were little children, and you have never lied to me. Pues, I closed my eyes, I was safe, and sleep came to me. And then it happened: I felt strong hands grab my arms, my legs, my head! These strong men and women –- agents -- in green uniforms lifted me from the bench. I struggled! I tried to call your name, but nothing came from my mouth. I hoped that you would see what was happening to me! I twisted my head even as one of the agents squeezed it with strong hands. And then I saw you! Asleep, snoring under that pinche tree! A carefree baby! I tried to scream, but my tongue was dead within my mouth. The agents tightened their grip, and carried me away. And you snored! They took me to a big, black van, threw me in the back with all of these men, women, and children. Los niños estaban llorando. And the agents piled into the front seat, and laughed at us. The driver said: “You are going home now.” Home! But I was already home, here in this park with you. ¡Contigo! And they drove throughout the night until suddenly we stopped, and an agent opened the back of the van. The other agents pulled us out, one by one, and herded us to a row of small cages. And one by one, they put us each into our own cage, so small, I could not stand, I had to crouch. The children kept crying, then their parents started to cry, too. And one by one, the agents closed the cages with a loud clang and they laughed at us. ¿Entiendes? The more we cried, the louder the agents laughed. And as we whimpered, the agents congratulated each other on a good job. Some lit cigarettes. Then slowly, they wandered off, laughing, joking, proud of themselves. ¡Qué valientes! Finally, we could hear them no longer. And after an hour or so, in those cold, dark cages, the others quieted down, and eventually the crying was replaced with soft, sad snoring. The children and their parents, all in their own cages, were tired, and all they could do was sleep. ¡Pero no dormí! I refused to sleep. I needed to come back here, to you, Chavalita. I needed to stay awake and come up with a plan. And then it happened. As I tried to get comfortable, crouching in that cage, to plot my escape, I leaned against the cage door, and it fell open! I could not believe my luck! Those babosos forgot to lock my cage! I crept out, on my hands and knees like a baby, and then stood, like a man. I looked at the pobrecitos in their cages, snoring softly, and my heart broke. But what could I do? I have no doubt the agents did not forget to lock all of the cages. That would make no sense. So, I was the lucky one. I looked around and could not see any of the agents -- they were probably drunk someplace, laughing at us, celebrating their great conquest. I crept away, silently into the night, to come back to this park, to this place, my home, to be with you, my friend.

(Sits again, exhausted.)

Esa es toda la historia. And do you know what I thought about as I walked those many miles back to this park? I thought of you, Chavalita. I thought of your face, your voice, your embrace. That is what kept me walking, step by step, mile after mile. The thought of you. But I also had other thoughts. Tenía preguntas. Such as: Why do you lie to me? You make promises to protect me, but you do not. And that means you lie to me, each day, every day. ¿Me estás escuchando?

ISABEL

Oh, Chuy, that story is unbelievable! How can any of this be true? You know I would always protect you, even from a horde of agents with strong hands. You must be dreaming. My word is as good as gold, I have told you. I would never lie to you. ¿Entiendes? If agents ever tried to touch you, I would fight them off!

JESÚS

¡Cada noche!

ISABEL

Oh, Chuy, lo siento. I know you would not lie to me. If you say it happens every night, it happens every night.

JESÚS

(calmer, sighing)

Cada noche.

ISABEL

(soothingly)

Sí, Chuy. Cada noche.

JESÚS

(resigned, calm, the storm is over)

Chavalita, I want it to stop. No more cages, no more escaping, no more swollen feet.

(Holds up right palm for emphasis.)

Ya basta.