Moulded Human Gold

 

        Her name was Joanna.  When she was born, her feet appeared first; a story recounted incessantly by her mother to remind Joanna of how arduous a delivery it was, and in essence to bear a stain in Joanna’s subconscious that she owed her life to her mother, at all costs. Joanna always thought it funny though, that this little guilt trap story was somehow already a strong indication of the number of trials that she would have had to walk her entire life, as if to punish her for the pain she caused her mother. The universe seemed to echo and match this humour because from as far back as Joanna could remember, she was always stumbling upon landmines yet somehow, she figured that one day, if she kept on walking, she would eventually find treasure.

           Her home was a prison without the bars. Although her parents were present and provided food, clothing and shelter, Joanna was an orphan of love. Absolute starvation. She witnessed her siblings being showered with affection but her mere presence turned their gazes away, stone cold backs replaced connection, laughter dwindled and there she faded, diminished, disappeared. Absent, overlooked, not seen; transparent. According to her mother, life was already hard enough. Resources were scarce and they just did not have enough for another child. It was a miracle she was even born in the first place because at the very hint of conception, her parents’ panic button snoozed non-stop and the mission to abort was their new employment and preoccupation. They tried everything; from jumping down off a high wall, to drinking mysterious liquids that the elder women suggested; all of  this because there were just too many other mouths to feed. Joanna came though, sooner than they could ever fathom, despite the intensity of the mission. What a price to pay however, for entering a world she knew nothing of and probably would have reconsidered anyway if the crystal ball had already predicted such horror.

             Joanna grew up unnoticed, pushed to the back and simply left there. The savannah to the back of the house was her favourite place, her happy place. There Joanna would spend hours under the old plum tree, soaking in the afternoon sun, reading the tales of Oliver Twist and feeling envious that even Oliver at some point, received love. How tragic! The plum tree provided Joanna with the shelter her heart desired; a space to be who she really was, a space to indulge in what brought her the most joy, a place where her soul could rest before she had to run back and be Cinderella without not even as such as an attic to lay down. Some days the whip stinged and cut her flesh and the taste of her tears were salty and bitter yet with every gulp she swallowed, she built resilience and pressed on. Her mind would wander to that magical city she read about in one of her books, where the lights that shone matched the twinkle of the stars and the streets glittered with gold. Joanna longed to walk those streets. That last whiplash however just jolted her right out of her glee and she slowly descended back down into misery.

           Joanna blossomed as beautiful as the periwinkles that spread out around the base of the old plum tree. Although the soil was dry and water was scarce, it amazed Joanna how those flowers were so determined to thrive. She would expect that from this harsh treatment, she would be made cold and miserable just like her mother but it all had the opposite effect on her. Her transition into teenage life was by no means smooth, but she developed resilience and  her ability to regain courage came as an innate sixth sense. No one in her family seemed to understand this energy that radiated around Joanna; especially not her mother. As an unhealed woman suffering from inner childhood trauma herself, she resented Joanna for breaking boundaries and generational curses that she never had the courage to challenge. She envied her own daughter.

           School life was as difficult as home life, Joanna quickly found. Just like dust, her plans of using this institution as escape just dissipated and she found herself going through each day leaping from one prison to the next; desperately searching for a key, a breakthrough. Almost everything about school reminded her of her home and the rigid relationship with her family. Teachers who were self- absorbed, who moped around carrying the bitterness of their home life and subliminally projecting this same attitude onto the students. How gloomy! Forming friendships was even more challenging for Joanna. It was always an imbalance of give and take, and Joanna was always at the highest end for giving yet at the lowest spectrum for receiving. Could she ever find that key, her happy place, somewhere she can express her innermost desires without the eagle’s eye preying down upon her and thrusting its talons into the fragments of her soul. And so, in the meantime, Joanna settled for the plum tree. At the sound of the last school bell, her first instinct was always to grab her books, race down the dirt road, complete her list of chores and then run into the arms of the sanctuary of the plum tree.

              With every passing day as Joanna grew up she found herself battling inner turmoil. She felt unloved and utterly shattered at the thought of being a burden to the ones who were supposed to be her protectors. Her spirit, however, was unwavering. She did not know yet that she was being moulded, into a character of such resilience and passion that not even the waves of the Great Red Sea could move. Joanna turned sixteen on the second day of December. She woke up to nothing. There was not a hint of acknowledgement from either parent and her siblings all walked past her and out of the house; each one glaring with disgust as if they had stumbled upon filth. “They really should have gotten rid of me,” she quietly whispered as she made her way down the short path to her magical world under the plum tree.

            Joanna was stunned to find Timothy, the neighbour’s son, sitting under the tree, in her very spot. She was furious and demanded that he leave immediately but upon closer inspection, she realized that he was sobbing silently. Timothy’s dad had just lost his job at the hotel due to low tourist arrivals and now their family had no idea how they were going to brave this storm. Her stiff and defensive composure quickly melted and she slumped down next to Timothy. She let her walls down, listened to Timothy, gave him courage and then she shared her bread and butter. That day, Joanna saw that they had something in common; they both were not able to go to school. Joanna’s mom had decided that she would stay away from school that day, her supposed birthday and allow her other siblings to attend school because according to her mother “their work was more important and they had a better chance of succeeding than Joanna.” Out of all the horrible birthdays that Joanna had lived through, this one, by far, was excruciating.

           Joanna and Timothy sat under the tree for hours, sharing so much about themselves with each other. They talked about what their lives could be like if they had better circumstances. Joanna talked of her dream to be a writer and a dancer. Timothy wanted to sail the seas and learn about various cultures all over the world. The more they talked, the more Joanna was drawn to Timothy. “What is this strange yet irresistible feeling?” she pondered. “Someone who listens, who really wants to know more, who is interested in all aspects of me?” she continued. For the first time in Joanna’s life, she felt seen, she felt heard, she felt loved. They made a pact to meet every single afternoon under her umbrella of safety. Joanna had made a friend.

            After meeting for five consecutive days, Joanna found herself in one of the most humiliating situations that she had so far experienced in her life. That afternoon, while gazing up at the afternoon sun, her father came storming down the dirt path. He saw Joanna leaning on Timothy’s shoulder and heard them giggling. Joanna saw her father bellowing and she gasped, trying to quickly remove her head off Timothy’s shoulder. What he did next sent chills up her spine and she jolted to her feet. Her father grabbed Timothy and hurled him up against the plum tree. Then in a fit of rage, he harshly instructed Joanna to grab everything that belonged to her and to leave his house immediately. As he whirled around in a bout of rage, his hand connected to her face, just below her right cheek, and the impact of the slap left Joanna bent down in shame, shock and pain. As she pleaded with her father, trying to explain that Timothy was just her friend, her hands desperately clutching his right ankle, as her father dragged her slowly up the dirt path. In that moment, and amazingly so, Joanna felt a whip of the wind hit her face and as if by divine intervention, she released her grasp upon her father’s ankle.

          She stood upright and realized that Timothy was standing right beside her with his arms wide open. He gently held Joanna hand, helped to wipe her tears and then trotted to his home. This was the most frightening situation that Joanna had ever encountered in her life. Although Timothy’s parents insisted that she stay the night, Joanna protested and decided to go and plead with her parents one more time. Upon arrival at the house, she was greeted by the scattered welcome of her clothes all over the wet grass. As if to mock her misery, the rain battered upon her skin, entangled with her tears as she begged for mercy. Her mother’s sharp and harsh words were a spear to her heart. Her father joined in the butchering and even her siblings jeered her too. With nothing but the comfort of rain, Joanna turned and made her way back to Timothy’s. “What would become of her now?” she wondered.

           Some time went by and Joanna remained with Timothy and his parents. She cried almost every night and on the nights she did not cry, she screamed. Even in the midst of the chaos, Joanna was intent on completing her studies. She would not be another statistic. At such a tender age, her maturity surpassed most women her mother’s age and she was wise beyond her years too. With the help of a distant relative and Timothy’s parents, Joanna was able to attend  her local community college. She remained steadfast; determined to use her education to mould her into the woman she was destined to become. That little voice in her head that kept her alive as a little girl got louder now; and it sang a song of hope, a song of the future. With the help of that voice, Joanna became resilient.

           One of the saddest parts about being kicked out and pushed away was that Joanna missed the plum tree. She yearned for another escape. Her project on the different cultures of South America was due in three days. Her only refuge was the college library, where she could gain access to numerous sources of information on the topic. As soon as Joanna stepped into the library, a familiar ambiance welcomed her. That sheltered, quiet,timeless and safe feeling loomed over her and for the first time in a long time, Joanna smiled. The library was it! Her new garden, her new protective, sheltered place. A place where she could hide and mask her wounds and let the tip of her pen absorb her pain and transform it into soulful expressions of writing. Joanna found her escape; the library held the key.

            Timothy’s parents were a blessing to Joanna. She spent hours everyday brainstorming ways for her to repay them as soon as she was blessed enough to do so. Now although Joanna lived at their house, she and Timothy were no longer as close as they used to be. The reality of how replaceable human beings are are quickly settled with Joanna when she realized that Timothy was withdrawing his time and his attention. It did not take long for Joanna to stumble upon his newly found “princess” as he fondly used to call her. Though it stung Joanna to be replaced, the small but powerful voice in her head resounded again that day. It said “stay focused Joanna, you are treasure, you are resilient.” She believed the voice, moved through her feelings and pursued her passion for writing and learning.

            Joanna was now eighteen and quickly approaching the end of her college life. She had not given much thought as to what her next steps should be but she figured that she would at least take a one year break before pursuing higher education. Joanna thought of her parents and her family more often than her heart could manage. She just did not understand why, after having been treated so poorly, that she would still long to be embraced and acknowledged by her mother and father. The desire to be seen, to be heard, to be loved, to be accepted grew stronger everyday. Yet that voice boomed again “you will find your people, Joanna.”

           On a cold, rainy, Wednesday night, which resembled that night her clothes were thrashed in her past front yard, Joanna was running errands in her village for Timothy’s parents. As she hurried back to the house, she realized that she had forgotten to purchase the chlorine that Timothy’s mother had incessantly reminded her to get. Though she grunted, she just spun right around, but this time decided to take a faster route to the grocer’s shop. As she hurried along, hearing that melodious chime of the church bell as she approached, she saw that a group of women were exiting the church building, all grabbing umbrellas, all trying to hurry home. At the sound of her name, Joanna turned and saw that it was her past school principal. Joanna could not contain her excitement that night, as the principal explained that one of her teachers was retiring soon and she would like Joanna to fill in as a novice teacher at the school. Joanna thanked Mrs. Bob continuously and dashed, almost tripped, to get the precious chlorine to Timothy’s mom. “Me? A teacher?” she giggled with her hand over her mouth. “What can I possibly teach children when I am still a child at heart myself?”

        Where did this voice always seem to come from? It was like a giant wave gnashing against her pillars of doubt and negative thought. TWell she was sure grateful for this voice. The rains subsided together with her emotions. It was calm and still. Joanna walked back home slowly, clutching the bag of supplies as if her life depended upon it; as precious as gold. Upon hearing the news, Timothy’s parents flung their arms in the air, giving thanks to the One that Joanna knew so little of and as if to hear her thoughts, they both knelt down and prayed. Timothy, though he had become distant, joined in the celebration of thanksgiving and as he knelt down beside his parents, Joanna did something that rocked and stunned her core; something unbelievable, she too knelt down to pray.

           Every day and night after, Joanna prayed. She prayed because it felt good to believe in something or someone for once. She wondered if that was the voice in her head, the voice that had carried her though all those years. While waiting for her teaching career to unfold as well as her graduation from college, Joanna volunteered with some community organizations aimed at youth development and social reform. She quickly found that her passion for writing now transcended into a passion for helping vulnerable children like herself. She became for those children, that beacon of hope that she desperately needed when she was a child. Joanna was an overnight sensation in her community. Her remarkable quality of dealing with people, her dynamic personality, her warmth and her hopeful spirit made her the talk of the community. She was inspiring people and remaining humble about it at the same time.

             When Joanna graduated, she gained merits and distinctions in all subject areas and was awarded the top academic prize which came attached with a cheque for five thousand dollars. She was elated that day to see Timothy’s parents in the front row, cheering her on, like she was one of their own. Timothy came too, full of pride and beaming, immersed in joy at Joanna’s success. Joanna bestowed half of her winnings upon Timothy and his family. She then donated one third of the funds to the various community organizations where she served as a volunteer. Joanna used the balance of the funds to get a small apartment on the hilltop, with an excellent view of the sunset. She set up a table out in the yard, where she intended to sit at the end of each day to pray and to write.

         When she entered the Primary School that following week, butterflies filled her stomach and fluttered around just like those bees sucking nectar from the periwinkles under the plum tree. “Ah the plum tree!” she thought with a smile. Right there, walking into the school yard, her heart sank at the thoughts of her parents and her siblings that she was forced to leave behind. Joanna had not seen her parents in a long time, yet she yearned to, only to whisper to their hearts “I forgive you.” She snapped out of it when she heard Mrs. Bob was welcoming her and showing her to the classroom. Once again, that familiar feeling. That ambiance of shelter, of protection, of warmth, just like the umbrella of the old plum tree and the college library that had kept her shielded when she needed it the most.It hit Joanna once again.

           The first day was rocky but manageable and there came the voice again “it’s only the beginning Joanna.” After cleaning up after her students that day, Joanna happened to walk past a piece of shiny metal that had been used as a makeshift barrier for where a window once stood. As she glanced, she stopped, and caught her reflection staring right back. Joanna froze and leaned in and something spoke to her that day. In a flash of memories, she recounted everything she could remember about her life, from then until that point in time. Gazing into that reflective piece of metal, she recognized her halo of strength and resilience. She noted all the lines and creases and traced them slowly along her face.

            Though her experiences were rough, she was not hardened. She did not turn cold as one would expect. She was moulded. In that moment Joanna smiled, and embraced the warmth of her reflection that smiled right back. Standing there, she was seen, she was loved, she was embraced. Her reflection stared back as moulded human gold, treasure that was hard to destroy or break down. Joanna was the treasure she was always longing to find one day and now standing there in that moment, she found it; absolute treasure indeed.