Okay, so for those of you who have read my “This is Me.” post, I am currently in the process of writing a novel. It was part of something called a Purpose Project put on by an organization called The Mocha Club. Basically, if you raise your desired amount of money for the project of your choice (mine was orphan care), then you do something you’ve always wanted to do. I decided to write a novel. So, with that being said, I wanted to give you all the first look at what I’ve written. The novel is currently untitled but the first chapter has been completed (some minor editing aside). Without further ado, here are the first couple pages.
Chapter 1
Prys
With one long, drawn out breath, she was gone. Forever. At this point, I should have been trying to figure out my next move but that’s the last thing on my mind. I walk towards the window on the opposite side of the room. This particular room has the most beautiful view of the ocean. People pay millions of rand every day for this view. If nothing else, at least she had a nice view of the Atlantic in her final days. I sit in the chair near the window and admire the beauty God created in South Africa. Birds fly by overhead, I can see the boats lining the horizon way out in the distance.
As I watch the waves kiss the shore I’m reminded of my last moments with her just this morning.
“Hush, my child. Don’t cry.” she whispered, though I could see the tears forming in her
own eyes. “God has a plan for your life, just as He did for mine. I love you.”
Then she kissed me on the cheek. I could sense her fading as she spoke. I knew she wouldn’t be here much longer. My final words to her were these: “I’ll make you proud, Mother. Don’t you worry.”
I had been preparing for what happened next for months now. Mother had been sick for as long as I could remember. However, when that final breath came and went, I still couldn’t stop the stream of tears that flowed from my eyes. She’s gone. Yet another member of my family taken by the AIDS epidemic. This time, it wasn’t just any member, it was the last one. What comes next? Where does a 12-year-old girl go when she’s the only one left?
Just as I begin to think about my options, I spot a line of children walking, in a very orderly fashion, past on the street below. Looking to the head of the line I see a beautiful young woman smiling and leading the way. The sight is reminiscent of a mother duck leading her ducklings towards water. All of the children in the line are dressed alike. I soon recognize the uniforms as those of the orphanage down the street. Suddenly there’s a pit in my stomach. Did I forget to eat this morning? No, I vaguely remember the unbuttered toast. What could it be? That’s when I realized; those children represent what’s to come. My future. Until I’m a legal adult, I’ll be an.…orphan. With no surviving family I’ll be placed in the system, waiting to be adopted or to just outgrow it. That’s how it has to be, whether I like it or not. I suddenly feel a weight in my chest as reality sinks in.
“God, I know you have a plan, but does it have to be this?”
A light knock at the door pulls me from my thoughts.
“Miss, may I come in?” a short, slim young nurse mumbled quietly from the doorway.
“Yes, yes…I lost her a couple minutes ago. 9:45 to be exact, in case it needs to be
recorded. I’ll just gather our things and be on my way.”
As I move towards the door I took one last look at my mother. Cold, lifeless, but no longer in pain. Thank you, God, for bringing her peace. With that, I turn and start walking back towards the village. Towards home.
Because the walk takes over 20 minutes, I have a lot of time to think about the past couple of days. Yes, I’ll miss my mother dearly, but would it have been worth it to continue to watch her suffer? No, not at all. I just have to remember that God took her peacefully in a hospital, with her loving daughter by her side.
It’s truly a miracle that my mother was even able to get a spot in a real hospital, even if it was only for her last days. I’m still not sure who helped, but some kind stranger paid for the last days of my mother’s treatment. This isn’t a usual occurrence for people like us. You see, Cape Town is divided into three classes: the upper class, the lower class, and then us. People like us would normally spend our final days on the street or in our small, sheet metal homes. It’s nothing extravagant, but at least it’s something, and nevertheless, it’s home.
I begin to hear the children laughing as they play in the streets. That’s how I know I’ve almost made it home. The village is always so full of life. If you weren’t aware of its existence, though, you might pass Masipumelele without a second glance. In fact, most people do. What do I see when I enter the village? Joy, love, and family. I’m instantly greeted by all three as neighbors and friends begin to spot me entering the main road. They hadn’t yet heard the news, but the look on my face must have given it away. I’m suddenly aware that I haven’t looked in a mirror in days. I must be quite a sight.
“Bokkie, I’m so sorry”
“Oh, Prys”
“Everything has been done according to God’s plan!”
I can’t differentiate any of the voices as they offer me condolences. I start to walk a little quicker as I set my sights on our family home. My home, I guess…for now. My surroundings begin to blur as the tears once again begin to flow. What am I going to do? When will they be coming to find me?
When I reach my home I quickly open the door and shut it behind me, pressing my back against it as I slide down to the floor. It’s only a matter of time before the word of my mother’s death reaches the whole village, and the people from the orphanage come to collect me. With my head in my hands, I finally allow myself to weep. Maybe I should start by collecting myself.
“Lord, I trust you. I trust that you have a plan for my life. I trust you.”
No matter how many times I repeat it, I can’t seem to force myself to believe it.
There is suddenly a loud rapping at the door. I guess news spreads faster around here than I thought. I’m not the least bit prepared, but I won’t be able to hide forever. Whatever happens in the next few minutes will change my life forever, I just know it. I slowly stand up, wipe my eyes, and with a deep breath I open the door to find a very large man with a surprisingly gentle face staring down at me.
“Miss Baes?” I nod. “I’m going to need you to collect your things and come with me.”
He didn’t need to say anymore. I nod again and turn to grab my belongings. A sweater, a pair of shoes, and a stuffed bear. Not much to gather, I guess. I follow the man to a taxi that’s waiting right outside. He opens the door for me and in a couple seconds we were on our way. As we pass through the Masi streets, the children wave with the excitement that only comes with ignorance. I feel almost jealous at the bliss that shields them from pain. I then pass the adults who are watching with sad eyes, knowing exactly what’s happening. I tried to capture it all in my mind, not sure if I’d ever return to these streets I’ve walked my entire life. I want to remember every detail of my home.
We continue driving, with Masi soon becoming only a speck in the rearview mirror. I continue staring out the window in hopes of hiding my emotions from these strange men. I suddenly realize something- this is my first time ever getting in an actual car. We’d never had the money for our own, or enough for even one ride on the taxis that frequently came through our streets. The excitement is dampened, though, by the fear and grief that are slowly setting in.
After what feels like a century, I no longer recognize the scenery we we’re passing. I’m not even sure where they’re taking me. Should I have asked in case anyone wants to get in touch with me? No, I guess it wouldn’t really matter anyways. I’ll be in a new place with new people and a fresh start. Everything has been happening so quickly, the faces I knew began to look like those of strangers anyways.
“Miss, are you doing all right?” the driver asks, with more volume than necessary in a
van filled with silence.
“Huh? Oh, yes. I’m all right.”
“We’ll be arriving soon.”
And soon it was. I’m not sure where we ended up or how I got so lucky but I quickly begin to think this might not be as bad as I thought. We pull up to iron gates so tall I can’t even see the top of them out of the windshield. They’re magnificent. I’ve never seen anything like them. Now, what’s behind the gates is even more breathtaking. All I can see for kilometers is land. Wide open space filled with grasses and trees and flowers. We were never able to grow flowers back home. The building itself isn’t too out of the ordinary. The light brown walls were similar to most buildings built in South Africa around this time. With its single story and thatched roof, it was most likely once the country home of someone important. In the distance I can see a playground, spotted with children. I can already hear the laughter through the thin glass of the car’s window. Maybe this won’t be so bad after all.
Facing Fearless 