Act One
It is mid-morning of a beautiful late August day on the Wasaychigan Hill Indian Reserve, Manitoulin Island, Ontario. Pelajia Patchnose is alone on the roof of her house, nailing shingles on. She wears faded blue denim men’s cover-alls and a baseball cap to shade her eyes from the sun. A brightly- colored square cushion belonging to her sister, Philomena Moosetail, rests on the roof beside her. The ladder to the roof is off-stage.
PELAJIA:
Philomena. I wanna go to Toronto.
PHILOMENA:
From offstage
Oh, go on.
PELAJIA:
Sure as I’m sitting away up here on the roof of this old house. I kind of like it up here, though. From here, I can see half of Manitoulin Island of a clear day. I can see the chimneys, the tops of apples trees, the garbage heap behind Big Joey’s dumpy little house. I can see the seagulls circling over Marie-Adele Starblanket’s white picket fence Boats on the North Channel I wish I was on, sailing away somewhere. The mill at Espanola, a hundred miles away ... and that’s with just a bit of squinting. See? If I had binoculars, I could see the superstack in Sudbury. And if I were Superwoman, I could see the CN Tower in Toronto. Ah, but I’m just plain old Pelajia Rosella Patchnose and I’m here in plain, dusty, boring old Wasaychigan Hill … Wasy … waiting … waiting … nailing shining shingles with my trusty silver hammer on the roof of Pelajia Rosella Patchnose’s little two-bedroom welfare house. Philomena. I wanna go to Toronto.
Philomena Moosetail comes up the ladder to the roof with one shingle and obviously hating it. She is very well-dressed, with a skirt and nylons, even heels, completely impractical for the roof.
PHILOMENA:
Oh, go on.
PELAJIA:
I’m tired, Philomena, tired of this place. There’s days I wanna leave so bad.
PHILOMENA:
But you were bom here. All your poop’s on this reserve.
PELAJIA:
Oh, go on.
PHILOMENA:
You’ll never leave.
PELAJIA:
Yes, I will. When I’m old.
PHILOMENA:
You’re old right now.
PELAJIA:
I got a good 30 years to go …
PHILOMENA:
… and you’re gonna live every one of them right here beside me…
PELAJIA:
… maybe 40…
PHILOMENA:
… here in Wasy.
Tickles Pelajia on the breasts.
Chiga-chiga-chiga.
PELAJIA:
Yelps and slaps Philomena’s hand away.
Oh, go on. It’s not like it used to be.
PHILOMENA:
Oh, go on. People change, places change, time changes things. You expect to be young and gorgeous forever?
PELAJIA:
See? I told you I’m not old.
PHILOMENA:
Oh, go on. You.
PELAJIA:
“Oh, go on. You.” You bug me like hell when you say that.
PHILOMENA:
You say it, too. And don’t give me none of this “I don’t like this place. I’m tired of it.” This place is too much inside your blood. You can’t get rid of it. And it can’t get rid of you.
PELAJIA:
Four thirty this morning, I was woken by…
PHILOMENA:
Here we go again.
PELAJIA:
… Andrew Starblanket and his brother, Matthew. Drunk.
Again. Or sounded like ...
PHILOMENA:
Nothing better to do.
PELAJIA:
… fighting over some girl. Heard what sounded like a baseball bat landing on somebody’s back. My lawn looks like the shits this morning.
PHILOMENA:
Well, I like it here. Myself, I’m gonna go to every bingo and I’m gonna hit every jackpot between here and Espanola and I’m gonna buy me that toilet I’m dreaming about at night… big and wide and very white…
PELAJIA:
Aw-ni-gi-naw-ee-dick.1
PHILOMENA:
I’m good at bingo.
PELAJIA:
So what! And the old stories, the old language. Almost was a time Nanabush and Windigo and all gone everyone here could rattle away in Indian fast as Bingo Betty could lay her bingo chips down on a hot night.
1 Oh, go on. (Ojibway)
PHILOMENA:
Pelajia Rosella Patchnose. The sun’s gonna drive you crazy.
And she descends the ladder.
PELAJIA:
Everyone here’s crazy. No jobs. Nothing to do but drink and screw each other’s wives and husbands and forget about our Nanabush.
From offstage Philomena screams. She fell down the ladder.
Philomena!
As she looks over the edge of the roof.
What are you doing down there?
PHILOMENA:
What do you think? I fell.
PELAJIA:
Bring me some of them nails while you’re down there.
PHILOMENA:
Whining and still from offstage, from behind the house. You think I can race up and down this ladder? You think I got wings?
…
PHILOMENA:
Oh, go on.
PELAJIA:
When I win me that jackpot next time we play bingo in Espanola…
PHILOMENA:
Examining her torn skirt, her general state of disarray, and fretting over it.
Look at this! Will you look at this! Ohhh!
PELAJIA:
I’m gonna put that old chief to shame and build me a nice paved road right here in front of my house. Jet black. Shiny. Make my lawn look real nice.
PHILOMENA:
My rib-cage!
PELAJIA:
And if that old chief don’t wanna make paved roads for all my sisters around here…
PHILOMENA:
There’s something rattling around inside me!
PELAJIA:
I’m packing my bags and moving to Toronto.
Sits down again.
PHILOMENA:
Oh, go on.
She spies Annie Cook’s approach a distance up the hill
Why, I do believe that cloud of dust over there is Annie Cook racing down the hill, Pelajia.
PELAJIA:
Philomena. I wanna go to Toronto.
PHILOMENA:
She’s walking mighty fast. Must be excited about something.
PELAJIA:
Never seen Annie Cook walk slow since the day she finally lost Eugene to Marie-Adele at the church 19 years ago. And even then she was walking a little too fast for a girl who was supposed to be broken-heart … Stopping just in time and laughing … heart-broken.
Annie Cook pops up the top of the ladder to the roof.
ANNIE:
All cheery and fast and perky.
Halloooo! Whatchyou doing up here?
PELAJIA:
There’s room for only so much weight up here before we go crashing into my kitchen, so what do you want?
Source: Highway, Tomson. The Rez Sisters. Fifth House Ltd., 1988. pp. 1-9