Benhêk

From Almeopedia

Benhêk [be ˈnjɛk] is perhaps the leading writer of adlelekâ, a distinctive Barakhinei genre of plays written and performed entirely by women. Her patronymic is Kûbâkho, but she does not use it professionally; if disambiguation is needed she is called Benhêk Barakhinach, Benhêk of Barakhina.

Benhêk was born in 3431 in Nhêshtor at the estate of her father Kûbakh Kônulopo, brother-in-law of a minor baron, Gêbru Kûgolho. Her father died when she was just four, and her mother moved back to her brother’s mansion in Barakhina, the capital. She was thus raised largely by her mother; which has been held to account for her unusual independence of mind.

As the niece of the baron, she had high rank but no real importance in the family; she could expect to be married off to some minor relative of a lordling. Meanwhile she devoted herself to learning, which she found effortless— even Caďinor, an unusual achievement for a Barakhinei girl; she always said that it was because she had no father to stop her. She was fascinated by adlelekâ from an early age, famously writing her first one at the age of 12 (and performing it with the girls of her household).

Her cousin Mezêk (Gêbru’s daughter) introduced her to the Zôbruli Anêlo, an acting society (kudichant); she was soon acting in their productions, and as she said later, writing satires (ridibeli) before she even know much of the society she was satirizing.

At the age of 15, after a quarrel with her mother, she left her uncle’s mansion and moved in with members of the kudichant. This was slightly scandalous— especially as it was an open secret that she was carrying on an affair with one of her new roommates— but nothing irreparable. She could have returned to the conventional life if she chose to— but she never did; she enjoyed her new life too much. Her family was not displeased, especially as it was saved the expense of a dowry (though she did receive some money from her mother, in the early years).

For the next decade she was known chiefly as an actress, specializing in feminine roles. Male roles were played by specialized actresses (kunakuli) who did nothing else, and were the great stars of the theatrical world. She was not interested in being a kunaku— but she had affairs with plenty of them. When one of them moved to the Lebê Zul troupe, she followed, not least because it was one of the leading kudichanti, which toured all of Barakhún and even Verduria.

Increasingly she was known for writing rather than performing. Her plays were extremely popular, and borrowed by other kudichanti and by amateurs across Barakhún. Witty and erudite, her satires follow conventional plots while mercilessly mocking pompousness, sexism, and backwardness; she expertly uses humor, dramatic tropes, and even slapstick to ensure that even wooden-headed old lords leave the play with a smile on their lips. (In any case, kudichanti freely improvise to match the tenor of their audience.) She has also written mirebeli, more serious plays on legendary or patriotic subjects, which have been well received.

In her acting days her romantic attachments were exclusively with kunakuli; afterwards her tastes seemed to have broadened; she has had affairs with noblewomen, other writers, and even a few males. Few affairs have lasted more than a few years, though she has been with her current partner, the daughter of a baron, for nine years (though it seems to be an open relationship). Those who know her describe her as extremely intelligent and bitingly funny, but impatient and demanding a wide variety of stimulations— very ADD, we might say.

See also

An extract from her play Lhumudrel

Quotations

“Ful shterê ila naorônda shkê? Sîk lême, ak sîk ûzâ fetê a nakulî kênz shterê kande pêza? Sôn rochi zêl sû fetê kênz rizundê adlelekêi.”

“Do I want to run the world? Of course not, but can’t I tell men how to run theirs? They are certainly keen to tell me how to write plays.”

“Sî dêna rizundâ adleleka ak lelmâ thiz ashkol mêlu chî dêp rizundâ purho et tô. Nunk dep puga ôtrêi sekath tedêsht e nhêbor hozdi.”

“I only write a play when I meet someone so stupid that they simply must be written about. At this point I have 129 more to write.”

“She [a kunaku] is a picture of valor, and spirit, and beauty. And loyal and true as a dog— also about as smart and barky as one, but the philosophers say we all have vices.”