Of Sandcastles and Seas

 

 

Kids don’t learn the intricacies of society by memorizing the do’s and don’ts. They can’t flawlessly breeze through conversations between judgemental people and not feel a sense inferiority. I never knew what it meant to live in a place where you can be judged by everything you did. The Yeira Uhuru of six years ago never knew how real-life judgemental people are. She never knew that. I am Yeira and I never knew that. Even though I was told so many times by my parents. I had known the rules theoretically but…to implement these on a real-life basis? Even though my name means ‘success’ and ‘freedom’, I was a ‘failure’ and a ‘prisoner’.

Can these six years really change anything? I looked at myself in the mirror contemplating the looks of the girl who once had never known the pains of trying to fit in. The girl in the mirror looked more or less the same but there were some changes. Her long black hair fell from her head in waves, rippling down halfway through her back. The eyes were the same, big and brown and darkened with circles. Her mouth was fuller and two-toned but instead of spitting naiveté, it spoke what was needed and kept mum when it wasn’t required.

I chuckled without light in my laugh. I have done great damage with this tongue of mine. I yearned to sound kind, to sound pleasant, to sound comforting yet this tongue broke so many hearts. The more I looked forward with light, the more easily darkness caught up with me from behind. I never knew discerning lies from the truth could have been so hard. Home…the mere word sounds like honey to my ears. The mere word stirs my heart with emotion. The mere word forces my mind to understand my withered heart: the same heart my twelve-year old mind ignored when it needed to heal itself after falling apart.

Ironic, isn’t it? You heal after being torn apart, you smile after being robbed of it, you laugh after Crying your eyes out. Why couldn’t I heal without crying? Why couldn’t my heart follow my mind?

Building a sandcastle takes time and patience. It requires moulds and spades and sand. Building that perfect castle takes your time and sweat, yet that feeble mass of sand gets washed away by a single wave. I didn’t want to be consumed by that wave. I didn’t want my precious sandcastle that was already falling apart to be swept away by that blue monstrosity. I kept my back towards it, protected the weak mass with my might, kept building all around it to keep it standing while withstanding the waves that threatened to break me. The more the waves came, the more I resisted but…for how long? My clothes clung at me with disrepair and seaweed, my hair were a wet, tangled mess and my body was weak. The castle wasn’t beautiful or majestic but it was still standing. My emotions had stability but…did I have stability? when I looked behind me, all I saw was a stretch of a beautiful blue colour, sparkling under the sun and brimming with serenity and life. It smelled salty and fresh and promising of new life. I could have abandoned my emotional castle but I didn’t. I was scared to feel the despair that came from being knocked off of your own two feet. I did not want to see my sandy foundation, the one that I had been carefully protecting, come down with the waves. And yet, people keep building these same castles and laugh it off when the sea ruins it. They run to the tides, basking in its watery depths, with their heart and soul. They love the sea and the sand. They get hurt and then they laugh.

It is a painful memory but my heart cried out in joy when my body turned to embrace the sea, to embrace the wave of sadness that I had built up. My mind froze at the thought of drowning but I turned around to the beach and saw my sand castle gone. A barrage of memories imploded my head.

"Mommy, leave my hand! I want to go to where Papa is!", my little sister's squeal of despair while we were at the Immigration point, back in the airport of our home.

“Let’s enjoy while we can. We can brood over sad times later”, my elder sister’s words as she enjoyed her packet of crisps.

“The world after here is going to be difficult,” my mother softly said, “you must remember your time there as your golden period and prepare yourself for what lies ahead ‘’.

A wild ride of settling down in our new home and being admitted into our new schools took place the moment we arrived.

“That girl over there thinks you are rude. You shouldn’t be so flippant”, my new classmate frowned at me

“I just kept her book on her table. What’s the big deal?”, I asked, confused.

“You threw the book”, the girl enunciated. “You were rude to her. I guess you don’t know how things are here”.

But I didn’t throw. I didn’t mean to be rude to her.

“Why are you so quiet?”

“Are you mad?”

“Can’t you be any less irritating?”

“Oh shut up, Yeira. You hurt his feelings and there is no denying it”.

“you are a little…too truthful. Too righteous. Too…blunt”.

“your sister was way too rude to me even though It was your fault”.

“You like English? For real?’’

“Your skin is a little too dark, no?”,

My smileless face was awash with tears but I won’t care anymore. Perhaps the sea was scary but the waves caressed me. They carried me in their watery arms, cradling this confused and damned mortal. The salty water entered my mouth...and memories…not yet forgotten rose again from my consciousness, driving me to play in this sea of bittersweet tears. To enjoy the cool waters as the sun beat down.

“you kids are so brave to put up with this. It has to be so tough on you”.

“Since you don’t know some stuff, allow us to enlighten you! Err...y-you won’t tell your mom right, Yeira? This is going to be a very girly topic. Also, any guys on your mind?”

“ Yeira, you draw so well! Write my name here?”.

“I am going to read any book you write.’’

“you are too kind!”.

Chaotic voices of encouragement and love crossed my mind, filling my ears with them. I would be mean…No…ignorant, if I said that there was nobody who cheered me on. Those bottled up emotions made me aggressive, irritable and unstable. To those who tried to peek behind the curtains, to those who genuinely pulled me out of the dark and to those who spoke words I shall never forget:

Thank you.

“You are irreplaceable…there was no one as genuine as you”.

“ My girls are the bravest girls. My daughters.’’

When I came back to land, the castle was gone. The waves had wiped it clean and a stretch of sand lay before me. I will learn to embrace the sea again. I will not be depressed if my castle breaks again. I will listen to my soul again, so that when the time comes and I end up building a chaotic sand castle again, I will not reject the waves trying it to break it down.