Lives Between Walls

Close your eyes. Relax. Take a deep breath in through your nose, and then
slowly exhale through your mouth. I want you to imagine yourself walking in a
picturesque garden. You are walking, feel the bulrushes grazing against your
naked skin – as you walk along a flowing river. Hear the waterfall gushing on
the other side of the mountain, as torrents of water coming crashing down upon
the rocks of ages. See the green trees, beginning to bud as they welcome the
spring season – the bees playing musical chairs on the sunflowers and roses.
Feel as your hair dances to the tune of the wind. It is beautiful, and it’s just you there – there is a fence around this garden, protecting it from all negative energy. You can’t see the fence because the garden is so huge, but you know it’s there. There is only positivity within this garden, and it radiates off you as the light of a quasar, streaming off your arms and legs. Though you are naked – you are clothed in the clothing of the stars. Feel your anxiety
melt away Jamie. There’s no need for that here. You don’t need anything, you are content just being present – that is your fulfillment. Take another deep breath in through your nose, and then slowly exhale through your mouth.

But what if I told you that in this same garden, there is a lion that roams freely. This lion goes around killing and devouring anything that comes in its path. Yes this garden is huge – almost the size of the Sahara dessert. Even though the odds are a million to one that you will have the misfortune of meeting the predator, the fact that there is a possibility, cracks the door wide open to anxiety. This is the root of anxiety – ‘possibility.’ Now, say we reduce the size of this garden to the size of city of Johannesburg? Surely your anxiety will increase, because of the increase in ‘possibility.’ Anxiety is directly proportional to ‘possibility.’ And say, prior to you, there had been other people in the garden who were reported to have been killed by the lion. This new information would greatly increase your trepidation, because ‘possibility,’ has now been quadrupled.

The way the world tells us to get over anxiety, is to merely consider that
the chances of it not happening, outweigh the chances of it happening. And
logically, this is a sound conclusion because, why should I fear being struck
down by lightning if the odds of it happening are second to none? Obviously
that is something that is not in my mind, I haven’t been exposed to it, nor have I heard any of my friends saying they got struck by lightning. It’s not a common thing so I don’t really have any dread concerning that. But what about me being mugged? In my neighbourhood, this is a more likely reality. And thanks to my mother, I am kept up to date on the crime stats in my neighbourhood, unfortunately. Even though I have never been part of this statistic, the stories I hear of things that happen around me, increase the ‘possibility’ of it happening to me in my mind. “Jamie,” my mom would almost break down my door, “Did you hear? Jessi’s daughter was at a party last night
and they spiked her drink? It’s really not safe out there at these parties.” She almost seemed to revel in telling me these, as if she got some sadistic pleasure from other people’s misfortune. “Jamie? Are you hearing me with those earphones on?”

“Yes mom, I hear you. I will be careful,” I would respond half-heartedly, knowing that my attempts to try and avoid watching the news would not help – especially when living with a walking CNN station.

On top of living in a relatively unsafe neighbourhood, being a woman also
increases the ‘possibility.’ By virtue of my gender, my anxiety will automatically be higher. I don’t understand men who say they struggle with anxiety. What the hell are they worried about? I would have thought that having a penis automatically put you at the top of the food chain. But being the cute, and white damsel in distress that I was, just made me easy prey for the lion. And worse, we don’t really have a male figure in this house to protect us if things were to go south. My mom’s former boyfriend who had lived with us, had played that role before, but ended up becoming the one we needed protection from. The day my mom caught him with that blonde in their bedroom was the nail in the coffin. The blonde he had told her not to worry about, she had just been a cousin – infact my mom had been introduced to her on one occassion,
“Nice to meet you Bianca.” And I had told my mom countless times that Lawrence was cheating on her when she was working night shift. I don’t understand
how woman can be so gullibe sometimes. Perhaps being so loving is our weakness
as we want to believe the best in everyone. Maybe that’s why that snake spoke to Eve in that Bible story, and maybe she messed up because she chose to see the best in that snake. Trying to see good in a snake is a lesson that women have never learnt to this day. “Mom, either this guy is from Alabama or
that is not his cousin!” I had tried to talk some sense to her – explaining to her that he would frequently come home with this woman telling me that she would be travelling so she needed a place to sleep. Even though I was young at the time, I was not an idiot – even a new born baby would be able to put two and two together. I mean why would he sleep with his female cousin on the same bed? Also squeaky beds at night where never a good sign. I would tell my mom about it, but she never believed me I guess. Or perhaps she was afraid that in the past, every time she brought up something like that, he would get angry and verbally abusive. But when she saw it for herself that day, that was
when she put her foot down. That was one of the few times I saw my mom standing up for herself. It was 11pm at night, she had been released early from her night shift at the clinic. She literally shoved Lawrence out the house throwing
his clothes out after him. “Get out of my house!!” She shouted. “You bitch! How dare you throw my clothes like that?! After everything I’ve done for you?” He snapped back, swinging a thick hand at my mom which she blocked by raising her elbows. “Hey leave her alone you brute!” I shouted at him, quickly running to my mom’s aid and wrapping my arms around her. The slut he was with, pulled him by the hand, “C’mon babe. It’s not worth it.” I could see the dread in her eyes, as if she was seeing the full extent of what she was getting her self into for the first time – like a blind man suddenly seeing the sun for the first time. Lawrence looked at her, and then glared at me, spitting at my feet. And in a fit or rage, he pushed past my mom, as he stormed back into the house, collecting all his belongings. I held my trembling mother as we collapsed into a heap of tears at the front door. The blonde lady stood a stone throw away, half naked, but covered in a
blanket of remorse, “Look, I’m sorry about everything… I didn’t mean for things to end this way – ” By then, neighbours had come out of their houses to see what the commotion had been about. “Bianca lets go!” Bellowed Lawrence as he grabbed her by the arm making his way towards their silver Mercedes Benz. I watched her being pulled, like another ox to the slaughter. She took one final glance over her shoulder, with the look of one who had betrayed their own.

My mom wasted no time in filing a restraining order against him for our
safety. But something broke within my mom that day, I could see it in her eyes.
She began to obsess over my safety like never before. And who am I but a chip
off the old block? So anxious Jamie was born.

So now I’m just living here with my mom in this dangerous neighbourhood
which makes us even more vulnerable. Then you wonder why I have such anxiety?

I took a deep breath and inhaled the scent of the roses as I jogged through the field that morning. The rose was one flower that I really loved because it fascinated me. It was amazing to me, that a rose’s beauty was not marred by the presence of thorns. One is not repelled from a rose by the possibility of being pricked. In the same way, I can’t deprive myself of the beauty that is life, from meeting good people, and going to fun places, just because I’m afraid that I might be pricked. Nothing is intrinsically bad of itself, it’s just fate. The same party my mom was telling me about, where Leanda’s drink was spiked, might be the same place where one can potentially meet the love of their life. Good and bad can come out of the same cup. This is what makes life more difficult. Your formulas won’t work here, if I say I’m not going to the party, I’d be denying myself the opportunity to meet good people and enjoying myself. What
often happens is that we start to live in a state of denial. Saying the roses are bad because we dread their thorns, and then we begin to judge those who take time to smell the roses – yet knowing full well in our hearts how we long for the same. And as it pains me to say it, my mom can’t say all relationships are bad just because of Lawrence.

Jogging always helped me to put things into perspective. Other people pray to connect to the Creator, others go to church – but I jog. That is when I’m at my most rational, my highest self. Lungi’s dad would always nag me about being part of a church. Her family was quite religious and would seize every moment to try and reach out to the filthy sinner I was. That’s what made me think twice, thrice when Lungi would invite me over to her house. At least Lungi herself respected my boundaries and never tried to impose her beliefs on me.
“So Jamie,” Lungi’s dad bellowed, while we were all seated at the dining room
over supper that evening, “are you planning to visit our church anytime soon?”
I had come for a sleepover. Lungi could sense my discomfort, as she unsuccessfully tried to change the subject. “Because life without God is just
not worth living,” he just continued his onslaught, ignoring his daughter. “I’m
still thinking about it Mr. Pula,” I gave him the generic response I would normally gave when I didn’t want to talk about it. Mr. Pula sat back and stroked his dark grey beard, amused. I took a spoonful of soup that Mrs. Pula had made for us, “How’s the soup Jamie?” She asked me with a smile. It was really nice, I was jealous of Lungi only for her mom’s cooking. My mom’s meals paled in comparison. But I guess having time and money does tend to make one a better cook.

“So Jamie,” Mr. Pula continued, “Lungi tells me that you have a fascinating theory…”

I was confused. I glanced at Lungi, “Umm… what do you mean?”

Lungi protested, “Dad! I told you not to tell her!”

What? I don’t believe that Lungi shares the private conversations that we have with her dad! Argh! I glared at her.

Mr. Pula laughed, “It’s okay. There is no harm done, we are all family right? I just want to know more.”

I took a drink of my orange juice and took a deep breath. I would deal with Lungi’s failing later. “So what do you wanna know Mr. Pula?”

“So you believe that there is an imaginary fence around you that protects you from all of life’s misfortunes?”

I could hear Lungi’s mom giggling softly. It was probably his condescending tone that caused that.

“Yes, that is the short version of the story.”

“I don’t see that in the Bible Jamie.”

“Well not everything that is true is necessarily documented in the Bible. I mean, where are the dinosaurs? Or are you telling me that all the fossils that have been found are lies as well?”

Mr. Pula let out a booming derisive laugh, taking a gulp of his juice. I was so annoyed with his condescending demeanour.

“Did that fence protect you and your mom from Lawrence your mom’s boyfriend?”

My heart sank. I looked to a disappointed Lungi, who tried her hardest to avoid my gaze.

Mrs. Pula reached out to hold Mr. Pula’s hand firmly, “Roger, I don’t think you need to – “

Lungi’s dad was insistent, “No, I think Jamie needs to explain. If you are surrounded by a fence that prevents bad things from happening to you, why did Lawrence happen to you and your mom? Huh?”

I was defeated. The thing that upset me the most was the fact that Lungi had
betrayed me. “I don’t know Mr. Pula.”

“You see Jamie, life is a mystery – nobody has it all figured out. The best we can do in this life is be good, and go to church. Even so, there is no guarantee that this will keep you from experiencing bad things. It just depends on the will of Father God.”

I snapped back, “A Father who wills bad things to happen to his children? No thanks, I’ll pass. You can keep your God, I’ll keep my fence.”

I stood up from the table, while the family stared at me in disbelief. “Thank you for dinner Mrs. Pula, I think I will be heading off to bed now.” I stormed to Lungi’s room and slammed the door.

A little while later, Lungi came into the room I was in the bed. She apologized to me for her and her family’s behaviour. “Look Lungi, can we just not talk about it today. I am not happy with you at all, but I’m too tired to address it today.”

“I can respect that.”

She slid into the bed and pressed her body against mine, wrapping her arms
around me. “Lungi,” I whispered to her, “I really didn’t have an answer for your dad.”

“You mean about why didn’t the fence protect you from Lawrence?”

“Yes, and it bothers me because I never asked myself that question.”

“I see… well maybe my dad is right, and life is just a random allotment of destinies.”

“No Lungi! It can’t be. Look at the human body, how perfectly designed it is. Are you telling me that the same Creator who designed all that, has just abandoned our lives to chance? That is crazy.”

“Oh my God Jamie! All I want is just a normal girl to girl sleep over. If it’s not my dad talking about this stuff, then it’s you, can I just get a break from all this existentialist mumbo jumbo!”

And that usually meant, end of conversation.