“Stories of a War” is a chronicle told by a group of war correspondents about a scenario. Real stories of people who went to sleep like any other day and woke up in a completely unknown world. War, which in the words of a child is when people shoot, changes everything. Four correspondents from El País bring to life the experiences of people with names and last names.
The stories told through the voice of these professionals speak to us of children playing among rubble, trying to be kids, and how amidst their games, adults manage to turn explosions into fireworks to keep their smiles alive. They also speak of color, of rainbows, when referring to a young member of the LGBT community who, like many others, enlisted to defend their country risking everything. They speak of flowers that also grow among rubble, and of a woman, another protagonist, who nurtures them with care that manages to keep some color amidst all the gray.
Love is another facet that these war reporters bring closer to us, and that is also capable of blossoming amidst ruins. Falling in love and being in love are other stories that resonate with everyone, because who doesn’t identify with love? The stories that have made it this far by the hand of these magnificent professionals show that love conquers all. That for love, everything is endured and sacrificed. Even when war separates or takes away your loved one, you must keep moving forward, fighting. Because those who love are never defeated.
“Stories of a War” could be our own story, that of any of us, and that is what makes it so special, so relatable. These experiences reveal to us that the important thing is not material things, that we should value things in their proper measure, and that it is the people and the humanity within them that truly matter.
What we try to do with the monologues is to lend our perspective for a moment to those listening from the audience so they can see what we saw. I thought the challenge would be greater at the theater of the Madrid-V Penitentiary Center; to make the inmates travel over 3,000 kilometers from Soto del Real to Ukraine. We achieved it: while we were narrating, I could hear and feel sighs of sorrow, gestures of emotion and surprise, nods of agreement and incomprehension in the face of barbarity. They also left us with some smiles for some of our jokes. Going on stage in front of an audience deprived of their liberty is special, but above all it was seeing how they were carried away by the stories. When the lights went out it was as it always is. One inmate asked me as we were leaving why we had gone to tell them. “Why not?” I replied. “You also deserve to be informed.”
When we left Soto del Real prison, a common phrase among us was: “It has been an incredible experience.” We were all surprised by the silence. Rarely had we felt it so strongly in a performance of Stories of a War. Later, that night, we continued discussing it in our WhatsApp group:
– It was a really cool performance.
– I loved the day.
– An awesome experience.
– The audience was very good and there was even a good final review.
– What a joy, guys.
– The discussion was also very interesting. Very good questions.
Hopefully the audience has been as interested as we have enjoyed doing it and bringing a piece of the war in Ukraine that we experienced to Soto. Thank you very much for everything.
It is no coincidence that the text I had to perform in Soto began with: “In my reports, stories of dignity in the toughest moments of the human being have always caught my attention…”. So I talk about those mothers in Haiti who, after a savage earthquake, managed to wash and dress their children among the rubble to take them to school looking neat and tidy. And about the Barahona family, a Honduran family that had been living under a bridge for ten days after a hurricane passed through and who cleaned their clothes and swept the piece of cement they slept on every day. In Ukraine, these two ideas, ‘tough’ and ‘dignity’, are embodied by a bus driver who punctually travels a route every morning without passengers. Or the municipal gardener who changes the flowers in a city where no one is left. And few places are as appropriate to talk about this as Soto, where dignity and the toughest moments go hand in hand. Rarely have we felt such genuine silence and respect for what we do and for what is happening thousands of kilometers away as in this performance.
We premiered Stories of a War in December 2022. Since then, this show in which a handful of journalists from El País recount what moved us the most about Ukraine has been performed in theaters in Madrid, Valencia, and Segovia. But the other day was special. We weren’t going to tell our adventures to readers who, after an hour and a half of monologues, would return to their homes and normal lives, but to people who, like the soldiers in Ukraine, although for very different reasons, know what it is to be separated from their loved ones.
The experience was very enriching. I hope it was for the audience in Soto del Real, but it certainly was for us. I will always remember the conversation after the show with some of the attendees who warmly welcomed us. And, above all, the words of one of them: “You don’t know what this means to us. It helps us more than you can imagine.”
How to stay informed while isolated.
During the conference, the El País reporters were able to chat with some inmates. One of them, “with over 20 years of experience in the entertainment world,” describes what he has just seen as “an excellent verbatim drama” [testimonial theater] that has reminded him of Pirandello. “Reading the news can distract you, but when told so well it captivates you… And with minimal production, just four chairs… Less is more. It has moved me. Put this on Gran Vía and it will be a hit.”
They also inquired about how the inmates in the prison received news from the outside world. Without internet, access to information is more restricted and relies on television or radio (which must be purchased in the commissary) or the press (with a subscription). There is also a television in the common use modules. “Here, each copy is read many times,” says Eduardo, an inmate from Soto del Real, referring to each newspaper that arrives in the module and is left in the common room or library.
