The Plantation

Introduction

(March 2007)
Working late in the office that night, I was composing an email when I suddenly picked up my phone for no reason to call my friend. We were going to meet for dinner the following day and I didn’t need to change our appointment, so there was nothing urgent to call him about that I couldn’t bring up over dinner in less than 24 hours. But I called with the genuine concern of something unknown and the first thing I said was ‘are you okay? Are you feeling a bit funny? Different? Uneasy?’ Then it dawned upon me what it was; this was how I met her, and this is her story.

Her Story

I had a life back home. I had family and friends, both people I loved and people I didn’t but were necessities in life. My circle of ladies provided me with solace from my monotonous life as a wife but no solace to my soul. Yet I had a life, a reputable life that functioned appropriately. Then there he home came one day with the order to pack, our life and belongings into 4 cold trunks, to enlighten the primitives in a far remote land, stripped us away from everything we had learned to endear and appreciate. There was no warning, no discussions; within a fortnight we were aboard, heading to wherever far beyond. No reasons, no answers, no return dates, just the silent submission of a dutiful wife. Farewells were heart-wrenching without the confidence of reunion. How do you part a daughter from her elderly mère with no promises of a return? Should she had left and lived instead with a lie she knew might never be fulfilled/amended? 

The torturous journey we long endured. Without the company of my ladyly friends, our small confines kept my legs and heart crammed; my books and songs could not stretch my mind beyond the boring and treacherous sea. The silence of the waves accompanied me for our months at sea, I had grown accustomed to its songs of wisdom so much that I greatly missed it in our barren home amidst an ocean of green. What need did we have of luxurious goods? Our lifestyle was simple across the seas but nothing prepared me for the hardship of our superiority. We were the first of our kind there, the conqueror of new land; the supreme being to rule over the dumb, to enlighten them with our advanced knowledge and goods. Their intellects were barely enough to suffice as slaves, hence many were needed to make equal to one. In our presence their heads were bowed, tongues were tied and their gaits were bound, as though they knew theirs were no match for ours. Where on God’s Earth were we to have inhabitants of such simple minds, not as children, but as the dumb and the mute? Could it really had been that we were born destined to be more privileged and profound? To come to their land to educate and save these poor animals with our majestic grace? But all alone in this friendless land, trapped as a beast I was in our stranded compound. My words were lost in the silence of the land, the only music was the wind and the rain. Rhythm I had lost, no bounce under my feet, my life dwindled and my heart drowned.

In the stillness of a stormy night, my thunderous friends alighted the sky. With much light, they kept me alive, alone with my head of queries and my heart with the loneliness of night. My mind and my heart were all I had when I wandered through our humble abode for a sign of life. Chatters I heard from the servants’ quarters, flickering tongues fluttered ‘round a dim candlelight. Were they talking nonsensical mutts(moot)? But why would they gather, and circle, and laugh in delight? Were they speaking, in fact, intelligible words? in a different tongue of speed more rapid than my eloquent one? With the intricacy of their utterance, could they possibly only possess hollowness of minds? I listened gingerly with intent, eager to uncover the purpose of the moot. As though they sensed my eavesdropping ears, a hushed for silence and whispers boomed. Then a magical voice began to ride the wind and the rain as the thunder itself. There were no other voices now as the monologue rose and fell, in its rumbling sea I rode amast. All thoughts were gone as it drew me into its deep waves of intensity. Not a single word was intelligible to me yet like a whirlpool it devoured me, down to the mystical depth of the mesmerizing sea. I let myself drown in the ardent speech of matter I knew not but the rhythm of its sweep. Long was the discourse as it reprieved me into my slumber with fantastical sights.

Crude was my awakening by his disapproval of my revealing myself for the world to see, as I had slept in my nightdress by the opened door. I was grounded to remain indoors for the months to come as he travelled home to collect his business’ sums. His presence was not missed as it was never there, how could one possibly yearn for absence itself? By day he was in business and trade, by night he was in cards and drinks. Our minds were at disconnect as were our hearts. We lived only parallelly as husband and wife. Yet in my solitude, my mind could not contain, my curiosity of the world beyond, our house, our land, and our superior race. Were we really atop as I was told, that these mutts were to be tamed and taught our sophisticated ways? But their speech was definitely beyond howls and grunts, how could their minds be frivolous and dumb? As I was grounded within my stale confines, I might as well investigate the only unknown, the living part of my disenchanted household. How complex were their minds after all? What they thought about and did they feel? Yet how could I satiate my quest when we shared no words identically? No plans could be devised but a simple one, to eavesdrop nightly before dawn, then return to my room for appropriateness. But night after night, I listened, yet only clatter of voices were heard every night. Nothing could I learn from such chattery talks in words I didn’t know and could not adopt. How I longed for that melodious voice, expressive and intense in its delivery. Though the language I didn’t gasp, its speech seemed to surpass beyond words. Were these people really more base than us when one could speak with such eloquence? How could we enlighten them if indeed we were more elegant when we treated them like nothing but our loyal pups?

Soon my confinement was near its end and my cold bed would need to be warm again. My heart was sinking but I still had hope, for one last night I wished to hear the voice of the faceless stranger whp carried me to a land unknown with emotions uncharted. With determination, I stayed up late, donned a fresh gown for the following day, so I could fall asleep waiting in my properness. My plan had worked as in this last night, this stranger’s voice brought me to my slumberland where fishes and whales swam in glistening sea, with pirates and treasures and a hero or two. Little did matter that his words were strange, his rhythm and tones revealed it all. In my dreams, I met a man, foreign yet familiar as the voice I heard.

Morning came, my spouse returned, was pleased with his duteous wife’s waiting for his homecoming all night. Life went on day after day, there were no ladies, no family, no gay. An obedient wife must be perceived, happy to have a husband who provided a proper title and warm shelter. Letters after letters I sent across the seas, but their ignorant replies of my life far east provided me with no solace nor any ease. Their concerns seemed trivial and luxury meagre when the eaves of their blathers were different from my eaves.

Years went by when I got news of my mother’s dis-ease, caused by heartaches my absence produced. Begged my husband I did for my immediate return to bid my dear mom a final farewell. ‘No’ was his answer with no further reviews. My mère soon died while I was imprisoned in this new land of hope with despair in my heart and numbness in my mind.

Each time my husband went home I remained, to look after the household from these savages he named. With glee, I greeted his returns for the leathery bounds he held in his hands for my sanity to be found. Not often were they of titles I cared, but read them I would for they were all that I had. With no friends or family to keep me sane, books after books into which I escaped. Yet how many times could one read a book before there was no longer excitement to be explored within? My soul came alive one night a month when the faceless stranger lullabied me to sleep. Every full moon he always came, to lead me to a new land of horizons unknown. Never did I understand a single word uttered but I knew him. We would meet in my slumberland, where he guided me through clouds and swamps, and zeniths and ravines. With confidence I followed him to lands unexplored, to see the beauties and exoticness abound.

So many moons passed, I could no longer bear, the solitude I bore with only my own mind to explore. Then my husband left again, for nearly a year. What would I do without a single soul to share my every day’s woes, my toils relent? Was I to spend the next year a mute, to wallow in silence for my covenant à deux. What kind of prison was this I laid, without a warden nor an inmate to confide? No words were apt in their descriptions I found, could express the hollowness my distance enwound. Fearful was I my sanity would fade into the darkness where nothing remained.  How could I salvage my clearness of mind, to find joy and purpose before the end of my time? Was I to bode in this emptiest of cell with luxurious goods and servants aux pel? Something I must do to save myself from the dullness of life my isolation procured.

Twelve moons was a long wait but a short window of chance, to find out what I could of my only intrigue. The first full moon came, I listened in earnest with a fresh gown and all by the doorway to my deliverance from bore. Waited I tried to see the man whose voice I knew in my dreams alone, but once again to deep slumber I delved. Opportunity missed, another one to come; this time I waited as long as I could, but sleep took over before his departure at dawn. Two full moons went by, I failed to seek the answer to my quest, I had ten more times to try. But this morn it seemed a difference in the air. The servants were more excited in words; all were prattling a gossip it seemed, but not a word I gathered from these frivolous exchanges. Curious I was but had no way to discover the clattering chatters’ cause but it seemed I had been the subject of concern assumed from the stolen glances I caught, studying me with intrigue and fear.

The third moon came, I changed my plans. I positioned myself early for the arrival of this most mysterious of man. To my surprise, the door was opened, through which the jabber escaped more clearly than past, from the dimly-lit room where my servants resided. Why was their door opened so wide? Was it to receive the man I awaited with marvelous tales of mysterious land? Babbling went on until a hush came from within when the stately silhouette stepped into its bounds. The melodious voice started its wonderous tale, all I saw was the dark shadow from which it came, but no face could I see in such lightless confines. Yet something was different this fateful night, the door stayed ajar in the most inviting way, for a latecomer to enter his mystical fate? No one came yet the door remained open all night, in disappointment it seemed. But my soul, it ventured within, to sit amongst my peers and my fellow souls, as we rode the great voice afar and beyond.

Once again at sunrise, the chatters climbed behind closed doors but audible still. Their glances spoke skepticisms toward me but for nothing I could possibly conceive. Why were they blathering presumably about me? Of what had I conjured to incite such gab? Was it by chance that the prattling came only after the mysterious man? About what were they blabbing on and on? For a full day, I heard their nonsensical words. How much I wished I could inquire, but no words could be exchanged of vocabulary we shared. They served me well in speechless ways, never had I before desired to learn, to speak with these people who helped me every day. Oh, what a mistake that was to think that I had no need to commune with those whom I spent all day! How could I ask though eager was I, to know the cause of the excitement I found? Regretfully I had no words at all to inquire of the thrills, the buzz and all. The following day, the chatter subsided to mellow whispers which dwindled to none. Back to the quietness of my surroundings again, but louder than ever was my mind’s debate. Whence could I start my humble debate with these curious souls of exotic designs? 

Began I did with the speech of a child, I learned the word ‘eat’ and the term for ‘hair’. Step by step, I learned 10 words, from my most-trusted maiden who combed my hair. But aggravating was the speed at which a lingua franca we jointly produced. Though choked was the progress of our language exchange, my humble initiative a new bond enflamed. She would talk on non-stop although I had not a single idea of what about she yapped. I began to confide in her my thoughts, my feelings of loneliness without the stimulation of mind. What better was there a person to confess your innermost self without a fear of disclosure and judgment for never it seemed your listener would ever conceive the words you dared to disclose to her. But consoled she would of tears I shed, and I did hers too with a comforting hand. A baby, I gathered, she seemingly missed, though through the distance of life or death I could not perceive. I told her my regret for leaving ma mère, for not being there to bid our final farewell. Cried together we did of our missed love, our languages no longer our communications deterred. Bit by bit she learned my words, and gradually did hers I apprehend. In different tongues still, we divulged with ease, without the hindrance of how we’d be perceived. I found solace in her I never did in ladies nor family, even husband it seemed.

Once again, the full moon rose. With more excitement, I awaited my muse, for this time I had a short dictionary at hand of words I attained from this most foreign land. Not much still would I understand, but my dreams could be filled with things I had now acquired with the vocabulary of a young child. Surprised was I as I went to my seat, to find a glass of water and a candle to be lit. Who put it there and when was it done? Did someone know I was spying in discreet? Regardless of whom, it was a welcoming deed. Yet what needs I had for a candle this night as I listened in stealth, avoiding plain sight? Was it a friendly gesture to say they knew of my monthly intrigues to which they heed?

In the dark, I preferred to remain, to observe the path as the familiar stranger emerged, through the doorway into where my servants merged. Something odd was their meeting this night, for in complete darkness they gathered and jived. Where was the single candle they used on full moon nights, which they gathered around and chattered in delight? Was there something special about this night that countered their need of candlelight? But rummages I heard and a few accidental bumps, followed by the resemblances of curses and hushes to mute the hype. Why were they gathering in the dark? What was the purpose of such lightless assembly? I sat alone as well in the tantalizing dark, awaiting the voice on which to my journey embark. Yet silence was but all that I heard, with a hint of whispers from the gatherers or the wind. Confused was I to this change as I sat there and waited for eternity it seemed. While lingering in darkness, I glanced around me. There on the table next to my glass, was a single candle waiting to be lit. Could this be the candle they needed to proceed? Why then would it be here by my side unlit? Had the person who gave me my water forgotten it? But why then had they not come to retrieve it? If they were worried of confronting me, why couldn’t they then lit another candle instead? Or gather in darkness for their scrumptious tale? What was the meaning of all these? I waited more but nothing changed, gazed around for a moving shadow for a hint. None I saw and stillness remained. Being presumptuous but yet I must, I lit the candle and took one brave step across the path toward my fantasy land.

In the short distance of my earthy path, the whispers intensified and the hushes boomed. All those excitements, were they for me? The closer I got, the quieter it got. Each step was treacherous as I struggled to return to the familiarity of my darkness and unending gloom. What laid ahead was uncertainty, of a life uncanny and unprecedented. One that would be frowned upon if anyone knew, that could put me in danger if ever uncovered. But how boring was my mundane life, lacking excitement and camaraderie? What would it lead to in this journey I seek? Arousal of unfathomable kinds. Differences of tongues did not seem to bear a barrier on communicating of our spiritual minds. My ladies afar would call me mad, but what did they comprehend of my foreign affairs? Could they have endured this dullness of life with no one to gossip and none who cared? Go must I for my sanity’s sake, to rescue my soul from petrificating to stone. Long had it been since my mind was intrigued as a little maiden the world amused. Go must I for my heart’s sake, to rekindle the fire with which to love. My love for knowledge was eagerly strong but was unfortunately snuffed by society’s song. Go must I for my spirit’s sake, to enkindle amity of trust and regard.

Fearful was I but curiosity won, for the thought of turning back was too scary to shun. In I went into the room of my household I had never seen. Parted like the Red Sea as they saw me, and gave me the centre seat of their crowded room. On the floor, I sat encircled by them, before me my enchanter sat. A perfect face of wisdom and poise, seasoned by the adventures its bearer endured. He seemed to glow in the absolute dark, then I saw the candle I had held to his face. Embarrassed I was of my un-ladylike stare, averted my eyes and down laid the light.

When all was settled, from the weathered facade came the familiar voice that soothed my soul’s dismay. How youthful and lively was his melodious voice compared to the weather-worn vessel in which it contained! Not long was it before my spirit was enraptured by the myth he told. The sounds of his voice were more capturing here, dancing around in the close-quarter it reverberated. My visions more vivid than they ever were, guided by this incredible noise. No one was talking now except for one, as though they had all merged into the barren walls, leaving my lone soul with this stranger to roam, up the highest summit we climbed and down the deepest valley we trekked; high in the orange sky we soared and low in the purple sea we dived. What wondrous things were there to see on the vast lands I had never been? These adventurous tales brought me to lands so wild, I wondered if I was simply beguiled. But how could I know if it was even so with no truth, no language to confute nor show? Speechlessly I continued on with my journey to hither and thither my docent led. 

The speech went on, the night was still, with no signs of life but my vivid dream. An owl hooted, it brought me back to reality and my surround. Everyone was now asleep. In the full room of familiar bodies was but my stranger and me. Vis-à-vis were he and I, my eyes glued once again onto his face as he continued on with his miraculous tale. I could no longer dwindle back into my dreamy state, stared as I did to deduce this man before my very presence behind this face. Why was he here every full moon night to tell these people his fantastic tales? But here he stood, though dressed like them, his face, his demeanours were unlike their kind. What was his purpose for his narrations to them? To these people bound to my land? Who was he to have such beautiful tales? Were they real or were they feigned? Did my servants know whether these were myths? If they did, they seemed not to care. They were beautiful even beyond words. My eyes were still fixed on him though my mind wandered off, imagining where he’d been, what life he led and what brought him here. My thoughts were racing when the voice paused, presumably by the end of his tale or the slumber of his audience. Silence enclosed us in the crowded room when I became aware of where I gazed. By then it was too late to avert my eyes, as they were met by a genuine pair. They were dark and very deep, as though they were entrances to a different world, one full of excitements and discoveries. Our eyes were locked and he gave me a smile, I knew I shouldn’t but reciprocated I did.

It was too late, the connection was made. I shouldn’t have listened to him ever at all. I shouldn’t have gone and behaved like a whore, staring at a strange man straight in the eyes, smiling congenially in my husband’s void. Now I must take leave without any delay, for there was no knowing what this man would do in the absence of a waking soul. Furthermore, what was there to do with this man I never knew? What could we possibly had exchanged further than a few greetings in his native tongue? I gathered my skirt and my full water glass, readied to return to my safe abode. A name he announced with an outstretched hand just as I steadied my feet to turn. What choice did I have in such circumstance but to remain yet lost for words? A name he repeated, assuming his, with the same cordial hand as the moment before. How inappropriate would I be to respond, yet how insolent I’d be if I had ignored. My voice was in there where my name was stuck, any exchanges would be the most inept. Impudent was I though to have been there, a married dame, unaccompanied, with a stranger man. But my invisibility was on my side, my isolation my perfect guise. In the deep sleep of my surround, no one needed to know of our brief converse. With a nod of my head, I croaked my name, where he responded gracefully with a soft smile while retrieving his hand. Stutteringly I greeted him in his native tongue, yet fluently he responded in the speech of mine. Shocked was I to this change of event, as my shield of language crumbled and fell. No longer could I hide and leave unaware, suddenly I felt vulnerable and exposed, as though by speaking my tongue he had already learned, everything about me but I knew him not.

Should I bid him goodnight and ensconce in my chamber? But what should I do from now till his return? Should I even attend his next session, or was this the halt to my nighttime affairs? Oh why, oh why, did I take that light and crossed the path of no return? Could I still nib everything right here? But what would I be if this was the end of my life here in my pathetic cell? Running away from my muse and my bond from the only human with whom I could commune? When my husband was remote and his brain full of void, with nothing he cared but his business affairs? There I was feeling alive for the first time ever in my pitiful life. Could I had left my soul in this room, never to retrieve it for the rest of my days? Soul-less would I be alone and bare, till my body expired and God rested my soul. Would this be the way I lived before my return, to my homeland and friends, empty and void with none to share? Yet even if my lady of luck, brought me home to my family afar, would my life still be the same with ladies I knew but no longer understood? Who would I be if I had left without finding more about my desperate soul? In my struggles, I was suddenly aware, of my extended rude silence and apologized. With my third utterance to this unfamiliar man, I had inevitably taken sail to the sea of no return. 

Leaving safe harbour behind, I looked before me at the man in my dreams, a man of colours as rich as my visions elicited by him. Our eyes locked in silence again. What to say to a stranger you knew from his many tales you did not comprehend? It was although visiting the neighbour you had eavesdropped for years; there seemed so much you knew but so little as well. He was as familiar as my dreams yet as foreign as my mind. As I struggled for words, he graciously said ‘glad to finally make your acquaintance, madam.’ ‘Finally’? What did he mean? Had he known of my spying and for how long? Or was it mere politeness he said this to the mistress of this land? Did he know much about me at all? And how did he come to speak my language without a flaw? I had so much to ask yet I didn’t know how not to deem rude nor too keen or in awe. Then what’s of manners when no one else knew what I was to follow except possibly him?

To begin I dared ask if he had known of the invitation for me to come, to listen to his tales in this very night. With a slick smile, he admitted to me, it was by his design I had the candle and glass. How long had he known then of my monthly affair, ‘for long enough’ was his gentle response. Fear shrivelled me as I wondered what else he knew of me that my servants had told.  As if reading my uncertainty, reassuringly he said that was all he knew. How did he know of my battle within? Was he a psychic or could he mind-read? Sensing my hesitation, he apologized for assuming too much and for causing me unease. He glimpsed at the breaking of the sky, announced it was the signal for him to depart. Truth or not I did not inquire, as it was indeed I had spent all night with a strange man in a room dimly lit, with no attendants nor a waking soul. We bid farewell congenially as we parted our ways where our paths forked. He urged me to join them in 2 fortnights, I doubtfully agreed with intent to lie.

How could I go back and meet this man, knowing now we could freely converse? What could I possibly obtain from our monthly encounters but a few cordial exchanges before the break of dawn? What difference did it make if I had been in that dim room or my haven of darkness by the doorway? When none of his tales I comprehended but envisioned what I could from his rhythms and tones? Yet now that we had met and communicated, I was ever more intrigued to discern this man. But what was I to do with such information if I shall ever gain? But unquenchable was my interest of his states and affairs? What had I to tell him in exchange that wouldn’t reveal too much but could masquerade my intrusiveness? What was even there for me to reveal? All through my life, there was nothing enthrill, until this day my light was dim. There were no adventures nor myths to share, how could I be of any interest for an intercourse? For 28 moons I dwelled on this, for there was nothing else inspiring but this monthly tryst. On the very day of the nighttime meet, I had decided to try once more, but that would be it as my husband sent news- before the month’s end, my warden shall return. Upon which, there was no knowing when I could ever talk to this unfamiliar man. Mysterious was he and dull was I, wishing to live through his glorious tales.

The night came and again I donned a fresh gown to discover my water glass and candlestick near the doorway of my cell. The candle was lit this time for me to bring across the path to the waiting room. I entered within but this night was queer, as there was none but my maiden friend, who combed my hair and shared my tears. There she sat on the floor and waited, for my entrance and showed me a chair. Silently we waited for the man, who entered serenely with a nod and sat on the opposite chair. Where was everyone? I didn’t dare ask, as I assumed it was by his very device. As he settled, he showed me a leather-bound book, of which I gingerly received and warily held. Was it a gift or something to share? What’s within? I wished to discern the content of this book, was it a text or a journal he kept? What was his meaning for sharing this book without introductions nor explanations foretold? He gestured with his eyes for me to open the book. Carefully I obliged and turned the cover, to find a text printed in his native tongue. Between the lines though, in a tight, flowy hand, were lines and lines of writing I could comprehend. Someone had translated the original text, my guess was he in his elegant hand. Was that done for me or for him? Either way, I was thankful for this, to read a text in both languages was the closest I could get to learning about their world in relations to mine. With his eyes again, he urged me to read, what was written in a beautiful script.

Reading aloud, I had decided, so he would know what captured my mind. But why would he want me to read this text, out of all texts that he could share? Why emptied the room to simply give me a book to read in his sole presence? My mind was filled with queries once again, little did I notice reading absentmindedly I’d been. A smudge in the book brought my mind back to the book, to the task at hand and to find he was smiling as I read the alluring text. There was no recollection of what I had read in the past few pages until the illegible word. I was shocked as up until then, his handwriting had been immaculate. With the meticulousness he exuded, it was startling to see a flaw. As though finding a blemish in a marble statue, I stared mesmerized in disbelief. Retracing back to where the sentence began, I attempted to discern what word it could had been. But what I read was too fascinating, I had to go back to the top of the page. Even then I felt dissatisfied, restarting the chapter was just the same. Eagerly now I turned to page 1, recommencing the book from the very front. This time my mind glued to the text, and fascinated was I to the adventurous tale. At the close of one chapter, though I wanted to proceed to next, I closed the book and met the now familiar eyes. Wordlessly I questioned the meaning to it all. The empty room, the single book. The choice of the text even, and many more. 

With yet another smile, he told me to retain the book until I was done. Continued on he explained to me, how he came to speak my language with such fluency. His own tale was as fascinating as the book, I was enraptured until the owl hooted. Again I was brought to reality and realised I was beyond myself, in politeness and propriety. What lady would sit with a stranger man, to inquire and listen to his personal life? Yet intoxicated as I was, by a free life beyond my reach. I wanted to absorb it all, his experience and knowledge in entirety. But the night would soon lose its stealthiness, where one could hide in its dark disguise. Soon I would face reality again, where life was gloomy, my brain a yawn. I had one last question to ask before we parted, what should it be for I might never had another chance to ask? With my mister back there was no knowing when or if ever he would leave again? I needed to find the most pressing question of all those circling within my head. What must I know then that I could not wait for its answer indefinitely? ‘Why are we here?’ was what I inquired but his answer was beyond what I had thought I asked. Not only was he there to bring me life, but it was by God’s design we were destined to meet. Continued on he would have gone, but dawn’s approach had ceased his talk. Once again we parted ways, at the fork of our separate ways. Sad I was to see him go, as we might never converse again. Clutching his book I wept standing, still at the fork of the path my soul remained. 

How much I wished I could take his path, to leave my dreary life behind. To set course to a new life with doors, all stood welcomingly for me to freely explore. But here in this compound, I must remain, a prisoner of my own volition, of a life I had thought agreeable. Now I knew I had been wronged, by those who told me this was what I would want. My now dead mom, God rest her soul, wanted nothing more but this life for me, as he would provide me with great respect. Listened dutifully as daughters should, I wedded this man as my parents’ devised. Soon I gained the respect as claimed, from all those around me but my very spouse. A furniture I might as well be as there was no communing within our house. How I wished I could leave him behind, but what would I be without my louse? In this strange country all on my own, with no language, no title, and no safehouse? Where could I go if I had left? A stranger I wouldn’t follow then whereabouts should I go? 

‘Nowhere’ was my answer so there I remained weeping yet more of my pathetic name. For a title so small I had chosen this life, what could I had been if I defied my mam? Abandoned on the street or a spinster I would be, disregarded by society as an unworthy lame. What then could I had done with my life? No other options I seemed to have. Producing children was the only role I needed to play to secure my status and my earthly wealth. But consummation was not an act my wedded husband desired to complete. How could offsprings come from such loveless affair? How I had wished I had a child at my feet, so no longer I would be accused of not extending his name? His name would die with him if no child conceived, to pass his bloodline to eternity. Although a welcomed distraction a child would be, I was relieved to spare her my dread. I could not fathom now how guilty I’d feel, to bring forth a child for my own desire to be blame-free and occupied. To now know what life she would have lived, she was best left unborn and her spirit free. Destiny had brought me here, what could I do to release my soul? As heavy as my heart, I dragged my feet, back to my cold bed where I shrivelled and wept.

For days I remained in bed with shivers and chills., as sweat covered my head filled with delusional dreams. Cried on I did of my misery even after the dis-ease broke and my body recouped. A fortnight of incredible dread, inexplicable to the living nor dead. If ma mère had seen me now, what would she had said to my lonely life? If she had known what would come of my life, could she had still insisted this man I espoused? She would still say that's how a woman’s life was meant to be, even as if dispensible. Our only meaning was to serve our husbands and children dutifully without regrets. But how could this be all that we were made, to bear and raise children for our assigned mates? What’s of the curiosity with which girls were born but soon had learned they must refrain? Did God create us so differently, that we must remain in our confines for our daintiness’ sakes? What had man got that we did not, that they entered businesses and wars but we childbirths? Why couldn’t women carry healthy debates of matters as wild as their heads could conjure? But there I was in my aloneness, with no solace nor soul to share my woes. My husband’s return would only bring, a new book to read and tight reigns to my rules.

Book, yes, I had a book, one I didn’t dare read for fear of being reminded of what I’d missed. I was wrong to speak with that man, to be intrigued by him at all. But regretful I was not for with him I acquainted, for in just two nights, he had shown me more of mankind than I’d ever known. But back to reality I must return, be a subdued, docile wife. Six(?) months flew by way too fast, soon I would be under my warden’s tight leash. His mental absence had always been felt even when we dined at the table we shared. But distance gave me the freedom to roam, within my mind and our humble abode. How I wished I could sense a soul within the void of his brittle shell. Tried I did for years and years, but none was there for me to find. What had happened to his spirit, his soul? Could God had possibly not given him one? Why was he born then if he was not meant to be a living, thinking, inquisitive soul? Shouldn’t it be by nature we were born, to seek and search for the awesomeness of God? Was he condemned from birth to die a simple-minded empty shuck? But what of me to be married to him, with no minds to share and no love to tend? Hollowness was all I felt, what could life offer further than emptiest voids? Save me, oh Lord, from my agony, deliver me from my misery!

With posed delightedness, I received my spouse, but in my dear maiden’s eyes, I saw my pains. Did she know I was wretched when he was home? Were my emotions so obvious that they could be read from my wordless days? The tears in her eyes were genuine, of sympathy and love to a fellow humankind. From this familiar stranger, I knew little about, I received more compassion than from the man I vowed to love? What in God’s name was this shrewdness of which I could not share my deepest dire? A book I was given and off he went into his chamber of silence and disconnectedness. As cold as he was, I had a new book to escape to for a short month or two, until I had read it too many times that the words would be engrained into my unoccupied head.

Months had passed, nothing had changed. Wordlessly we coexisted parallelly as one. Yet never did we intersect nor merge, interactions were nearly null. Where could I seek solace and dull my pains? There were no anesthetics nor stimulants. Oh, how I yearned for a human voice, to converse and share my deepest thought. In my vast compound, there was only one unfamiliar piece, the book from the stranger I barely knew. With desperation I flipped the book, to locate the smudge where I’d left off. Soon enough I was enraptured, fascinated by its fantastic tales. Whoever had authored this captivating text must had been a godsent salvation to deliver me. From my dim life, I was lifted to a colourful world, not unlike my dreams during the many full moons, when I eavesdropped and dreamt of whimsical sights. Finished the book quickly as I did, a deeper void I felt within. There was a sense of incomprehensibleness infused throughout all its pages. There was more I needed to know beyond the exotic creatures and incredible feats. Was there really more to this text? Or was it the effect or my unsatiated mind, to look for meanings beyond the tales, with a wish to connect with something deep?

What could I do now with this book I read, over and over for all its tales? Nothing more was there to do, but search I must for the stimulation of mind. Was there anything else I could had done, within the confines of my earthly home? One last thing I realized, was to acquaint myself with the native tongue, of all the people I saw each other, but couldn’t commune nor appreciate. Tried had I with my dearest maid, but little could we share of our limited fares. But with this text I held in my hand, I had both languages for me to compare. Quickly to the study, I sat myself, with pen and paper and my cherished book. I searched for words I knew in both tongues, wrote on the paper my native word, and copied the repeating symbols I suspected paired. On and on I did for days until I had exhausted my childish words. Barely could I read this book with its original intended text, I proceeded to find simple words from pages I saw and could deduce. Tried I did my maiden asked, to show me the writing for simple things. But ‘no’ she declined for I assumed, she was illiterate and could not read. With much effort, I learned more words and went to my maiden again for their sounds. I noticed by now an alphabet, much like my own but in a different hand. Excited as I was, I went to my maid, took her to items I had named and asked her to pronounce their verbal names. Bit by bit I discovered the sound, of each alphabet I had painstakingly found. Oh, how exciting was this exercise, I was as keen as a little child, curious and thrilled to discover the world of new theories and intriguing things. With the alphabets I had surmised, a system of pronunciation I slowly devised. Discrepancies there might had been, but that was at best my effort be. Abstract words I could now learn, like colours, temperatures, and emotional states. My inquiries had given me the ability to read, through my book of obsession verbally. Though little could I gather yet how well or how poorly it was transliterated.

My project to learn their language had kept me intrigued, with infinite excitement and an amicable rapport. Though my servants were still shy from words, they now showered me with knowing smiles. No longer were they moving around, silently like furniture with no spirits nor minds. The book had led me to open my eyes, to see the faces and souls within my compound. How could it be that I had never seen, in so many years the colours within, these beautiful people so diligently, building my life daily and repeatedly? These hardworking bodies were no longer base, as they had originally been introduced. They were more alive inside than the gentleman of state I had decades ago claimed my spouse. More and more I wanted to know, but before my husband subdual, we showed. The air was lighter in the day when my mister was in his business realm. Though the night I dreadfully abhorred, my days were now my saviours. My lonely sufferings were no longer long, endlessly dragging to infinity and beyond. I felt free when the sun was up, eager and happy as I could now chirp with a few of my chatty serfs. But yet little could we offer each other in exchange of our feelings or thoughts, our barrier remained.

Soon another year went by, little did I take note when I had a busy task, to discover each day new words and names, of things I already knew but in a different tongue. The departure of my husband was again announced, once more was I to remain in our foreign confines. But no longer foreign did it feel as I was unearthing more likeness than I had ever known. With the arrival of his ship, I heard news of a fresh couple arriving from our home, a possible liaison I could possibly gained. Though for half(nearly) a decade I had waited for this, for a lady in status I could confide. Yet upon their coming, I, my master sent, hesitated was I to visit her. Though an invitation I did relay, no response was returned to my dismay. However, with my continued project, soon I had forgotten my unreciprocated touch.

Once again I was alone at night. Although a bed we had never shared, the absence of his familiar slow, deep breaths, made the nights more eerily unbearable. The full moon was approaching soon, should I attend the rendezvous? With what I knew of their language now, I would learn much more from what he would share. The day had come for the monthly meet that I had missed for twelve straight months. Eavesdropped I did every time, more vividly each vision was from the previous month. What would it be like if I had sat amongst my fellow listeners? Would we share the same lucid dreams? Filled with unimaginable beasts and awesome defeats? Sensing my hesitations, my maiden urged me to join, be amongst them that night in festive delights. Little did I know it was a special day, for them to celebrate their friendship and love. What better reason to go and join in good spirit of wonderful reasons and the arrival of Spring? My heart was reflecting the weather outside, a bud had sprouted with great new colours. The dreadful winter was finally gone, too long had I endured its cruel acerbity. The icicles were melting in my heart, exposing fresh soil to be planted with seeds.

Dressed I did as if for a ball, I crossed the path with a bounce under my feet. A room with laughter and lightness I had never felt, I was overwhelmed by a joy unfamiliar to me. Reverberating throughout the room was a feeling of positivity as if everything had been given a fresh new start, a perfect time to celebrate. My muse arrived in equal good cheer, a jovial nod he sent my way. I knew not what the holiday, for beautiful were the soulful colours it elicited. Vivid as my colours within was of no match to the colours I saw they threw at each other gleefully. What was this beautiful festival they revered with a vast palette donned on their canvasses of flesh? I stood on the side and observed the delight when suddenly a splash of colours highlighted my pelt. Who did it come from? I could not tell, but it was enough to get me involved deviously in this festive fare. There was no turning back now as my party gear, was covered in dyes of every hue. Happier than I had ever been, I laughed with tears in a great release. When the last colours were thrown, at last, the joy dwindled as the night was to end soon and my serfs had to rest.

Once again in quietness was left alone my muse and me. I questioned now retrospectively, what we had celebrated with colours and dyes? He explained it was the Festival of Colours with the story of heavenly love. It was touching to see people jovially celebrating the new life of Spring with thanksgiving, forgiveness, and faith of good over evil in one picturesque day. It would have lasted further on, he explained, if they didn’t have chores by the early morn. Intriguingly I then asked, would they accept it if I had given them time, to celebrate the following day, as long as my basic needs were simply met. ‘Yes’ was the enthusiastic answer when my guest relaid my question to the head servant. Gratefully he came to me, with tears of joy in his very eyes, to thank me for my kindness and invited me to join them the next day. For the next day as soon as I woke, I joined in the festivities with much euphoria. Not simply because of the holiday cheers, but for having made a connection with these humans I had never expected. During the fest, my animus stayed, and we walked and chatted for hours that day. His fascinating tales were bewitching and grand, both of his own and from literature. He explained to me his religion, which brought us to compare our gods and our spiritual faiths. Talked on non-stop we could have, but the end of the day was coming near. I must retire from the festivities, and return to my life of a lone wedded wife. He bid me farewell amicably, and down his path of departure, he walked. 

What an unexpected change of event, a festival of new things brought to me a friendship with a man, whom I shared nothing in common but one night a month, who harboured a soul with such great wisdom I much loved to explore. Could I had waited for another moon? For his return to tell his tales? How much could we converse in such circumstance? Only when everyone was asleep and we awake? An hour or so in the wee of the night? That would be unbecoming nor favourable. I had decided to send to him, an invitation to meet for a morning tea. Cordially he responded with a date, and eagerly I prepared myself for that fateful day. Fearful was I as it’s not customary for a lady of any kind to receive alone any male guests beside family. But who would know beyond this compound? Except for the very guest who would come in kind. The long-awaited day came, we chatted on, for hours non-stop till dusk encroached. Dutifully, he bid me farewell, but from that day on, he became a regular guest. We spent countless hours learning and debating of all things intelligible or even far-fetched. Captivating was our every discourse, so more and more I wanted to talk. He was respectful and courteous, full of knowledge, wit, and inquisitiveness. We explored the world we already knew and fantasized about the rest we didn’t know. How could I had found such a kindred soul, so many miles away from home? In a foreign place with a foreign man? An unlikely pair was us in our philosophical flair. But endlessly we could discuss with each other of all things possible and fantastical.

Time flew by when you had such an akin soul to roam free with your minds to heavens and beyond. One day, as we were debating of what was beyond the sky we saw. Was it the home where our gods resided, side-by-side as neighbours like humankind? I saw a servant I didn’t know, entering our compound in a hurried approach. I did not know the meaning of this, for I knew none who would send their help to me. Leaving my guest in the study I went to the room, to receive whatever the servant had to give. It was a letter from the lady who arrived months before with her husband to live. She had apologized for her delayed response, as setting up a new home in a foreign land, had caused her poor health and required rest. Her body had now regained its strength and she would much like to meet a kindred soul, in this foreign land where she had none. Graciously I affirmatively replied, set a time and prepared for the appointment. I had never received guests of my same kind here, in our humble abode with the plainest splendor. What would she think of our baren house? Did I have the appropriate gown? What was the newest fashion back home? But what was home when I was disconnected with he souls there resided? Home was now here, where I had friends, people who I cared about and were genuine to me.

Waited I did at the appointed time but her arrival was missed and I never heard words of her decline of any kind. What strange manner this lady had, agreed to come but never did. But not long had I to wait before I knew the reason for her discourtesy, as I received a letter from my husband from afar. He had gotten words of my receiving a man in his ignorant absence within his bounds. Never did he want to see me again; I was to remain there and never return, as he would not take me back into his house, a disgraceful woman I would be if I chose that route. Along with his letter, he sent me some fund, enough for 3 years but that was the end. He wanted no news nor dealings with me, as he had found a new wife with a babe on his way.

Was it a blessing or a curse? I was both laughing and in tears. To be abandoned in this strangers’ land, an unwanted wife deemed disloyal for facts he didn’t know. Not even a chance was given to clear my name but he had built a family before this found. Did he even intend to return from this trip, before he knew of my daytime affairs? Never had he touched my womanly parts yet a child he had made with a dame he never named. Futile it would be to clear my case, as he had no ears nor heart for me. I might as well save my breath, enjoyed my freedom as a strange new bird. I had a roof and was provided for, but what shall I do when the money were gone? I must now spend more mindfully, so discharged I did the servants not necessary. With tears, they departed and I thanked them all, now in their tongue for their servitude. Their friendships I would forever keep in my heart, and my blessings and prayers would follow them. 

With him gone, I had now a few free rooms. I could close the doors and never reveal again the absence of their former occupant, or renew my life to my very liking. His study I refurbished into my studio, where I stocked with paint and painted every fabric. The curtains and beddings were now full of life, of colours reflecting the freedom of my soul. His bedchamber I converted into a guestroom, for my special guest to stay every full moon night when it was too inhumanly late for him to walk to wherever his life led. Gratefully he took the room after the first full moon, to refresh his body before his departure the next morning before I rose. Now that I was a freebody I could do as I wished and I could dine with my friend without a worry in mind. Our chats turned from hours to days, only to be paused nightly when we needed to repose. Never could I had imagined to have a friendship so tightly bound, stimulating and mind-blowing.

But soon the thrill of my freedom was gone, my money was running low and I had no resource. I told my servants to find new employment, as I could no longer pay for their work. With much regret, some of them left, but others had promised to stay till the end with payment in kindness was all that they needed. We grew our produce so we ate mainly those, except for a few things we couldn’t grow. Our life was meagre but we were glad, to have each other hand in hand. There were so few of us now left, to conserve what little we had left, my servants had moved to the main quarter, where we dined together and said ‘goodnights’.

In our dire situation, my body had succumbed to an illness I couldn’t afford. Blood was in my cough each morn and night, but nothing I could do but wait for my end. The last of my servants had now left, as they were no longer needed but the last one or two. Yet my dear maiden, she would not leave. She tended by my side all day and night, always awake when I needed her, feeding me broth or wiping my sweat. Adding duvets when I shivered with cold just to remove them when I sweated from heat. Near the end, I could no longer find dignity nor shame to do humanly things alone. She aided me through all of it, unfazed nor squeamish by what she saw. Tenderness and love were on her face, the last thing I saw as my body expired. What of my muse? He visited me, brought me whatever supplies he possibly could. When I was sick and couldn’t engage, he would tell me his tales seated by my very bedside. How thankful I was to these two kind souls, for being with me till the very end. He entombed me in his family soil with a proper burial for my soul to rest.

Rest not though could my soul accept as I had died exciled, in desolation and destitute; abandoned by a husband who loved me not, who found a new family but faulted me. How could I rest away from family, I should had be buried amongst my kind. Eager was I to tell my husband, how wrong he was to have left me to die. What was I to him all these years? A dutiful wife I had always been. Why did we never consummate, yet he was able to father a bastard child? What had I done wrong to deserve all this? Was my soul supposed to suffer in life, only to be able to die received by God? Anger and resentment filled my soul, but maybe regret and hatred too. Had he been more of a man, a husband who tended and engaged his wife, I would had never sought to commune with a strange man without seeking his knowledge nor would there had been the need. But his mind was never there, and questionable was the existence of his soul. Could I had ever connected with him, doubtful I was of what it could have been? Would I had still sought an intelligent muse, to tease my mind and my soul intrigue? Only God knows what it could have been, but rest not I could from my wrongful death.

Soon my compound had been sold, to a new owner, a family of 3. My belongings were packed away, sold or discarded I cared not by then. My trunk was the only faithful item that followed me from my childhood to here until my death. I followed it wherever it went and saw how people and life changed as time passed by. I witnessed it all but deep inside, I longed to go home, where I used to belong. Miserable and sad I still was, in afterlife, I found no relief. Aimlessly roaming as an invisible ghost, as invisible as I was in my pathetic bod. Through many centuries I saw new things, things now intangible to my long-gone corpse; hearing new ideas I could not share, salivating for new foods I could not taste. Time went on and generations passed. I was still in this strangers’ land. I had lived here in afterlife, longer than I had ever been alive. Where could I go and what could I do? I no longer wanted to find my man, to seek my revenge and my final words. He was long dead now, I assumed, in hell most likely for his sins transgressed.

His soul’s suffering still provided mine no peace when my trunk was transported to another land. Where people were fairer but with charcoal hair. I had no interest to wander this place as I had enough of afterlife. I wished to leave to whatever was beyond, to heaven or hell I did not care. To explore what my muse and I had discussed for long, of our gods and soul’s journey surpassing our corpse. One day, came a miserable man, to the dusty shop where my trunk was stashed under some shameless imposter antique. He searched around aimlessly for nothing it seemed but with eyes so keen, to find something of value yet of what I could not tell. Intrigued I was I followed him. Off we went to another store of antiques, he walked around with the same aimless intent. Then homeward bound I supposed he was, as I felt a release of strict pretense, revealing a great well of sadness wallowing within. Someone deemed unworthy of love by none but himself, he yearned for the one he loved but had painfully lost far away in my home country she stayed. Was it his story that drew me to him? What use had I of such pathetic tale? A soul which felt unjustly discarded offered nothing for me to learn and gain.

Dully he sat down at his desk and began diligently cataloguing his invetory. His phone rang, he excitedly received a call from a lady on the other end. She seemed concerned for his well-being, unknowing what had prompted that very call. Then she saw me and said now she knew why. Briefly explaining to him of my presence by his side, she then conversed with me in the following stream:

Our Conversation

Me: You can see me?

Her: Yes, I can. Who are you and how did you come to follow my friend?

Me: I don’t have to tell you anything.

Her: You are right, you don’t have to. But who have you talked to as of late?

Me: None I supposed but it doesn’t mean I have to reveal anything of myself to a stranger like you.

Her: That is correct, it is your choice, whether to share or stay where you are. We are destined to meet and I to help you.

Me: How could you help me as I am long dead. You cannot revive me in my buried bod.

Her: It is true that’s beyond my capacity, but I can help you leave this plane. Have you not been around long enough? Wouldn’t you want to move on to live again?

Her: What is this you talk about? Is there a place beyond this world? Like heaven in the sky where gods reside? Or hell deep in the earth where devil reigns?

Me: Indeed there are these different planes, but heaven above is where you can attain.

Me: How could I possibly enter heaven above, when I was deemed an adulteress? I have hatred in my very soul, God would not take me in my woe.

Her: but god is more forgiving than you know. There is a great place where your soul can rest, once you have found peace from this life’s affairs.

Me: Could you have forgiven the man who accused you of disloyalty from assumed acts you did not commit? Would you trade that for happiness? For the chance to discover your soul? Shouldn’t he had been happy for me, for having a companion to ignite my mind?

Her: It was indeed difficult to make peace of such false claims and abandonment. But you knew of the risk for commiting acts that were deemed unacceptable at the time. Had you been born in later eras, as you had seen in your time till now, you’d be at no fault for your soul-searching acts.

Me: How could he blame me for adultery, when he created a child out of wedlock and divorced me?

Her: Was there ever love for him? Did you want to marry him? To complete the union of marriage? You were his missus by your parents’ design, could he not had married you as a dutiful son? Be thankful to him that he freed you from his bound, left you in a country where you had friends, instead of bringing you home to shame, to abandonment by him just the same. But back home you would be dubbed the disloyal wife and disappointing daughter. No one would want to associate with you, no friends, no dignity, just an embarrassing name?

Me: But was I wrong to seek enlightement of my mind and soul so closer to God I would be found?

Her: You had to admit you did it defyingly, knowing the rules yet ignoring them. It was by your free will you made such a choice, there was no one to blame when you were caught. Why not move on and live a new life, in this new age where you could talk freely to whoever you want in a country that embraces free speech and diversity?

Me: I can do that? Really, can I? Choose to come back and live again? Just as my muse said in his religious texts?

Her: That’s correct, so there is hope; to live again and hold more discourses.

Me: What could I be if I lived again?

Her: Infinite possibilities are in your hands. But that is for you to decide, when and how you want to come back and try living life again in a different time.

Me: How do you know all these and why do you care, to help souls like me who nobody cared?

Her: Just like you I have an inquisitive soul. I lived and lived and I learned; through lives and lives again I came back to learn. I, myself, had made mistakes, some greater than others but all were wrong. Forgave myself I had to and vowed to be better each time I lived. By trials and errors, I am here today, to share my lessons learned and to channel the rest.

Me: But why do you help us shameful deceased?

Her: Because it pains me to see sufferings. The living has help more accessible, but the dead are left forgotten and lost. How long could you go on without meeting someone like me? For eternity until the end of time?

Me: I understand now it was my fault and accept whatever judgements I rightfully deserve. Wait, I see now a fantastic light. What is it and where it leads?

Her: It is where you are supposed to go for your soul to rest and learn your share before you choose to come back and live again. I see now an angel approaching you, would you like to follow her through?

Me: What will I find on the other side?

Her: That’s for you to discover, not mine to tell. Take care now, my friend, and we shall meet, in heaven, on earth or wherever maybe.

Me: Thank you for your love so strong to salvage my kind. You are godsent as our last resort. May God bless you and those you touch, so they may help more as I will from now. Farewell, for now, my friend, I am glad you found me, saving me from my self-pitying soul. The angels are calling now, I should go. God bless, my dear, until next time!