Politically elected leaders would have us believe that war is a noble sport fought by brave soldiers, using whatever useful and lethal weapons they possess. Yet however brave the soldiers, war is always against women and children. The legacy of war divides people, tears families apart, and the pain passes from generation to generation.
My one woman play SHYLLAG* illustrates some of this pain. The piece concerns itself with woman's search for Freedom and involves three generations of women and their lives in a time span stretching from between the two World Wars to the present day after the Fall of the Berlin Wall. The title SHYLLAG is from CZILLAG, Hungarian word for Star (celestial & theatrical). While a woman waits for her train, she opens a Pandora's Box from which spring tales of love, confusion and courage. The woman is a Travelling Player (Everywoman) She's brave, mischievous and somewhat crazed. The setting is a railway station in Limbo.

Wherever there is war there are refugees. While working in Austria in 1957, I became friends with Professors Imre and Gabi Szente who were refugees from Budapest. They came to teach at the convent in Bregenz where I was learning German and teaching English. They opened my eyes to the spirit of Hungary and the suffering of its people through the Iron Curtain Era, the second World War and beyond.

(In this excerpt, the Travelling Player (Everywoman) tells the Stationmaster of a train journey from Budapest with her child Shyllag)
(Slow Hungarian MUSIC. SHE takes Hungarian shawl from luggage, wraps it around her shoulders, and stands, clasping it with R. hand)

TRAVELLING PLAYER. Once upon another train coming from Budapest Shoo-chch Shoo-chch they made us take our children. The train was packed coming through Limbo
HERSELF AS A MOTHER. Come Shyllag, sit by me and watch (breaks off)
TRAVELLING PLAYER. (upset) Little children with their mothers- rows and rows of tiny faces- No one spoke. We couldn't get a window seat. I held her on my knee. Then, suddenly on that train coming from the Danube someone pulled the cord. CHOOCHOOCHOO---SSSSSSHHHH! (PAUSES) sudden hiss of brakes-then silence. Rows and rows of tiny faces. Then, from the next carriage a babble of indignation
VOICE ON TRAIN. Parbleu!
VOICE ON TRAIN. Mein Gott was ist los?
VOICE ON TRAIN. By George! we've stopped!
(A PAUSE)
VOICE OF TRAIN GUARD. (overbearing) Ach so! wer hat's getan?
TRAVELLING PLAYER. The guard was surly- eyes thick with sleep-his tunic buttons all undone- like Hamlet in Ophelia's closet
VOICE OF TRAIN GUARD. Wer hat's getan?
TRAVELLING PLAYER. Now he was buttoning up his tunic--glaring at us. We sat like statues --frozen like pillars of salt on our way from The Danube
VOICE OF TRAIN GUARD. Verruckt!
TRAVELLING PLAYER. (sighs) And he was gone. No one spoke inside our carriage. Rows and rows of tiny faces.We clapped our hands on their mouths to stop them talking (quiet) No one stops the train in Limbo. But someone cared enough to try. Who did it? I wanted to ask (TRAIN WHISTLE) Then with a lurch we were off! (pauses) We never knew who caused such consternation- and no one cared as long as we were with our children leaving Limbo (pauses, then cradles her arms) Shoo-chch Shoo-chch SHYLLAG!

The train is used as a metaphor. As the Travelling Player waits for her train to Liberty, she spins tales to an unseen Stationmaster, conjuring up her life and loves. She spins tales of real and imagined journeys: Happy seaside trains with her daughter Shyllag. Exciting tours as a Travelling Player. Romantic and tragic trains. She alludes to the Limbo between East and West, the Love of her life, her Child and the Children she lost.

(A recurring image from the Second World War is of trains bound for Concentration Camps. In this excerpt, the Travelling Player (Everywoman), provoked by the voice of her daughter Shyllag, tells the Stationmaster of a train journey from Budapest as a child with her own mother.

TRAVELLING PLAYER. (picks up luggage) Now where will we go? Paris? Rome? (wistful) or Budapest?
VOICE OF SHYLLAG. Can't you let the past go Mother? Can't you leave Hungary behind -like everyone else? Move on Mother. Hungary Hungary. That's all I ever hear. Oh yes all change for Hungary
TRAVELLING PLAYER. Hungary! What did she know of Hungary? What did she know of pain? (takes Hungarian shawl from luggage and wraps it around her shoulders) Then how could she know? Listen Stationmaster

(LIGHTS dim. Turns, as if moving Upstage, lets Hungarian shawl slip from shoulders, pauses, then holding shawl with L. hand, turns slowly to face Downstage, stands quite still for next speech)

TRAVELLING PLAYER. (quiet) Once upon another train my mother brought me as a child from Hungary (slowly) Shoo-chch Shoo-chch. They made them take their children. Rows and rows of tiny faces. We couldn't get a window seat. There were no windows on that train coming from the Danube (slowly) Shoo-chch Shoo-chch- choo! No one cared enough to pull the cord. No one cared enough to stop the train (pauses) There were no windows on that train through Limbo(very slowly) Shoo-chch Shoo-chch Sshhoo!

(Hungarian shawl drops to the ground.Slow Hungarian MUSIC as LIGHTS fade)

Miriam Gallagher 2003