Where to start? Probably with me being scared...yes, that was a good place.
i was scared. i remember the fear clearly as if it had it's own smell, it's own taste stinging the back of my throat. i looked around trying not to let on how desperate i was. the tin can that was supposed to be an airplane was rattling and lurching with turbulence making my stomach feel queasy.
tears slipped silently down my face. i longed for my mothers soothing touch to comfort me. i ached for my dad to reassure me that i would be OK. i missed my brother's mischievous laugh to distract me from feeling so horribly alone.
our family had arrived in East Africa only a year before, ready to begin church planting and outreach. back in Canada mini skirts and big hair were all the rage for women...not appreciated in Tanzania where it was law that women could not bare their legs in public. our very first day in Tanzania my mom's attire caught the attention of the locals who formed an angry crowd around her and demanded that she be arrested on the spot. thankfully she was saved by some quick thinking friends who whisked her away before anyone could organize an arrest. i was terrified and thrilled all at the same time...a headline played through my mind~ my mom was arrested for wearing a short dress. i was 5, it was not a well crafted headline.
i spent most of that year running around barefoot. we were living in what was called "the little house" with another family in the "big house" across the other side of the yard. we only spoke about the big house in whispers and were not allowed to go over there for reasons that were shrouded in mystery but my brother and i barely had time to care with all of the turtles, snakes, iguana's and scorpions to keep us busy. we scaled coconut trees and chewed on sweet grass, picked up Swahili from the neighbor kids and learned how to cut grass with a panga.
we rode on our 2-wheeler bikes from Canada and fell constantly into the thorn bushes that served as decorative accents to the drab, dirt yard. we spent many hours across mom's lap as she pulled out thorns from our backsides. the time went by in a blur of new smells and exciting experiences.
after that first year at home it was time for me to go away to boarding school. i was heart sick over leaving my family but my current dilemma was what had me crying. i craned my neck this way and that to get a better look at the other passengers in the 8-seater plane, maybe someone would be able to help me. the large man in the aisle seat beside me was snoring loudly and the people across from us had their barf bags in-hand, not a good sign. there was a lady with a baby sitting right at the back but baby was fussy and she was busy trying to soothe it. so i sat as quietly as i could and tried to think...
time, to someone who is 6, means very little. i didn't know how long we had been flying. i didn't know when we would be in Nairobi, i certainly didn't know if we would be stopping before we got to Nairobi for any reason.
a few moments later i realized I had the answer! it was so simple, why had i been worried? it would be perfect and no one would ever know, i wouldn't even have to get out of my seat! i giggled softly as i congratulated myself on being so clever.
suddenly i felt the plane begin its decent...could it be that we were already in Nairobi? there didn't seem to be a city below I remember thinking, but i wasn't concerned. carefully i smoothed my pretty white dress with pink roses over my knees just like my mother had taught me to, I didn't want any wrinkles.
the pilot's voice sounded...ladies and gentleman, i apologize for the turbulence back there, it looks like we're going to touch down for a few minutes to re-fuel and give everyone a chance to use the restroom. please be ready to re-board the aircraft in 30 minutes.
i don't remember anything about our lay-over, all i know is that i was the first one in line to get back on the airplane. i went straight to the back and quickly settled myself in, trying not to look anyone in eye as they filed back on and returned to their own seats. except the lady with the baby, she had been last. her eyes scanned the back of the plane for her seat but when she saw me sitting in it she gave a small shrug and carefully made her way past the large man in the aisle seat and sank down onto my seat.
i couldn't bear to look away, my eyes felt stuck like someone had crazy glued them to the back of her head. ever so slowly she turned around and when her eyes locked onto mine i was struck by how beautiful she was, her eyes liquid black...and...angry. she knew my secret, she would be sitting in a wet seat all the way to Nairobi.
There...with a flourish I finished off the story, ready to send it in to the Children's Institute of Literature. I had seen an ad in the local newspaper and for fun thought I would submit a story from my childhood that I had not told anyone before.
It took me days to finish, polishing it up and editing, trying to find just the right words to accurately describe the events and feelings surrounding that crazy day so long ago.
I became aware as I sent it off in the mail, that the desire to write had always been with me. I wanted to create something beautiful, haunting and tangible with words.
For a living.
For ever.
For me.
For you.
i was scared. i remember the fear clearly as if it had it's own smell, it's own taste stinging the back of my throat. i looked around trying not to let on how desperate i was. the tin can that was supposed to be an airplane was rattling and lurching with turbulence making my stomach feel queasy.
tears slipped silently down my face. i longed for my mothers soothing touch to comfort me. i ached for my dad to reassure me that i would be OK. i missed my brother's mischievous laugh to distract me from feeling so horribly alone.
our family had arrived in East Africa only a year before, ready to begin church planting and outreach. back in Canada mini skirts and big hair were all the rage for women...not appreciated in Tanzania where it was law that women could not bare their legs in public. our very first day in Tanzania my mom's attire caught the attention of the locals who formed an angry crowd around her and demanded that she be arrested on the spot. thankfully she was saved by some quick thinking friends who whisked her away before anyone could organize an arrest. i was terrified and thrilled all at the same time...a headline played through my mind~ my mom was arrested for wearing a short dress. i was 5, it was not a well crafted headline.
i spent most of that year running around barefoot. we were living in what was called "the little house" with another family in the "big house" across the other side of the yard. we only spoke about the big house in whispers and were not allowed to go over there for reasons that were shrouded in mystery but my brother and i barely had time to care with all of the turtles, snakes, iguana's and scorpions to keep us busy. we scaled coconut trees and chewed on sweet grass, picked up Swahili from the neighbor kids and learned how to cut grass with a panga.
we rode on our 2-wheeler bikes from Canada and fell constantly into the thorn bushes that served as decorative accents to the drab, dirt yard. we spent many hours across mom's lap as she pulled out thorns from our backsides. the time went by in a blur of new smells and exciting experiences.
after that first year at home it was time for me to go away to boarding school. i was heart sick over leaving my family but my current dilemma was what had me crying. i craned my neck this way and that to get a better look at the other passengers in the 8-seater plane, maybe someone would be able to help me. the large man in the aisle seat beside me was snoring loudly and the people across from us had their barf bags in-hand, not a good sign. there was a lady with a baby sitting right at the back but baby was fussy and she was busy trying to soothe it. so i sat as quietly as i could and tried to think...
time, to someone who is 6, means very little. i didn't know how long we had been flying. i didn't know when we would be in Nairobi, i certainly didn't know if we would be stopping before we got to Nairobi for any reason.
a few moments later i realized I had the answer! it was so simple, why had i been worried? it would be perfect and no one would ever know, i wouldn't even have to get out of my seat! i giggled softly as i congratulated myself on being so clever.
suddenly i felt the plane begin its decent...could it be that we were already in Nairobi? there didn't seem to be a city below I remember thinking, but i wasn't concerned. carefully i smoothed my pretty white dress with pink roses over my knees just like my mother had taught me to, I didn't want any wrinkles.
the pilot's voice sounded...ladies and gentleman, i apologize for the turbulence back there, it looks like we're going to touch down for a few minutes to re-fuel and give everyone a chance to use the restroom. please be ready to re-board the aircraft in 30 minutes.
i don't remember anything about our lay-over, all i know is that i was the first one in line to get back on the airplane. i went straight to the back and quickly settled myself in, trying not to look anyone in eye as they filed back on and returned to their own seats. except the lady with the baby, she had been last. her eyes scanned the back of the plane for her seat but when she saw me sitting in it she gave a small shrug and carefully made her way past the large man in the aisle seat and sank down onto my seat.
i couldn't bear to look away, my eyes felt stuck like someone had crazy glued them to the back of her head. ever so slowly she turned around and when her eyes locked onto mine i was struck by how beautiful she was, her eyes liquid black...and...angry. she knew my secret, she would be sitting in a wet seat all the way to Nairobi.
There...with a flourish I finished off the story, ready to send it in to the Children's Institute of Literature. I had seen an ad in the local newspaper and for fun thought I would submit a story from my childhood that I had not told anyone before.
It took me days to finish, polishing it up and editing, trying to find just the right words to accurately describe the events and feelings surrounding that crazy day so long ago.
I became aware as I sent it off in the mail, that the desire to write had always been with me. I wanted to create something beautiful, haunting and tangible with words.
For a living.
For ever.
For me.
For you.
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