Blue Daughter of the Red Sea: A Memoir

Book 2 Exodus of Souls

Book 2 E  S T   . There was no mettle left to squeeze out of the reservoir of hope or faith, or whatever else life availed for its living creatures to hold on to. He had finished with their lives. Nearly forty people were disentangled from the strings that had attached them to this world. From now on, their presence would no longer affect the environment. Their bodies would exist no more. All the hardships, the heartaches, the burdens, seemingly, were of no use. Life showed no gratitude. Denizens gathered about outside my house, screwing and widening their big eyes, stooping, feeding their hungry curiosity with other people’s no longer existing lives. I had just returned from school, and the overly excited , nosy crowd invading my street delayed my ingress into the safety net. I made my way past the shocked faces and the unintelligible tongues. As I reached the edge of the street, which fancied a downward slope, and faced the enormous, futile field that shouldered my house, which for the occasion exhibited dug holes and dead bodies, the end of the world flashed before my eyes.The earth was bare and still. I was trembling. I turned around and waded my way to the back, far away from reality. I singled myself out and took a stand where no one could see me but I could see everyone: the whole world on the palm of my mind. I resolved to stay one moment longer. My small stature gave the impression of enveloping the rest of the throng. I could not move for something had taken hold of me; something hard had grown within me at that very moment. My hands pushed the heavy door in, and I persuaded my legs to step inside the house and shut the outside behind me. No tear was released to extract the mass that had just piled up within.The house was empty. Everyone was out surely to satisfy his or her thirsty mind about the latest news. Who was to judge? Certainly not I. I was not to open my mouth. I would put this whole thing aside; let it take its course and segue into the realm of oblivion. Oh, Goodness Lord! And to think that my son could have been one among· 43 · 44 Exodus of Souls
those corpses, said mom, choking in her voice. Yet, God is merciful and once again he spared me my son’s life. The melancholy in her eyes and her rigid countenance were more visible than usual. She had spent the entire night awake and I with her. A loud shriek had echoed all the way to our living room/bedroom, soliciting her to lose heart. She ran across the room and out of the house, in the meantime , I was sure, negotiating with the Almighty for her wild son’s safe return home. Oh, the power of faith and prayer! He and his friends had crossed that futile field, met the life taker (the evil one on earth, not the bountiful one above), and conversed with him and come home safe. Some people would have called it luck, others fate. Mom thought of the miraculous occurrence as an answer to her prayers. I, for my part, thought nothing and suffered in that ignorance to which a child is held captive. As it was the routine, mom and I went to church that afternoon. I had hoped that the confusion and invasion on our lot would have hindered our visit to God’s House for once. But my hopes were groundless. One had to walk over mom’s cadaver first in order to make her miss church. She had a way with life. She held her head up no matter what, and her principal rules were: Reprioritize God! Say your prayer! And keep quiet! I was brought up by that law. But that evening at church, I entertained myself with a train of thought that belonged to my new secret life. My mind was pregnant with novel pleasant ideas. I conceived the world to be a garden, a park full of laughing children and joyous adults. I created new characters and gave them familiar faces. Or I took those familiar faces and imbued them with kindness. I was lost in reverie until mom held my hand to address Jesus’ prayer “Our Father” to our Father and woke me up...