LEAVING

Barry was mean to me. He was always mean. Yes, he was a bully. He was never nice to anyone. All the kids on the playground were scared of him. Maybe because he had an oversize head, a bulging tummy and excess baby fat, nobody knew why. But we all knew that his blow could send you to lala land. He was responsible for a dozen broken teeth, a million black eyes and some contorted bones.

He was violent and no one said anything about it. The teachers always said they would punish him, our parents always told us to stand up against him (the result was a worse beating than the last) and the principal had called him to his office (the most dreaded room in school) a dozen times. Still, nothing was done. A week after he leaves the principal’s office, he goes back to bullying. Were the grown ups scared of him or what? His minions, Lou and Bill, were faithfuls who picked out kids that were good for picking on. No one ever wanted to be in their tracks.

I’d been a victim more than twice. I think it’s because I’m small. Well, what options do you have when your mum and dad are both under 5’ 10”. One incident I remember was getting poked for wearing a sweater my grandma had made for me. It was a white sweater that had a green cow on the front. I had a fetish for cows at the time and dreamed of owning a farm when I grow up. The sweater never remained the same after that day. I was taunted, pushed here and there by Barry and his boys and called a wuss because I liked cows. I fell to the floor and got a few kicks. I rolled round in the dust and got a little tear on my lip. The sweater turned a dusty brown and was ripped severally. When I got home, I told my mum I was beat up by some bullies. She followed me to school the next day and reported to the principal. Barry took a trip to the principal’s office. I was even scared on his behalf.

The next week, he beat me more and challenged me to go running to my mummy because I was a sissy who held my mummy’s skirt around. It hurt my 6 year old ego and that day, I knew the world and grew up. Getting home, my explanation for the rough clothes was that we played really rough games at school and I had fun. Fun indeed!

Lots of times, he’d called me ugly and lots of names. The girls laughed at me in class and even some of the other boys called me skirt instead of my real name. I was sick of it all, seeing my “co-bullieds” getting beat up for nothing and Barry flying high on a horse that wasn’t even there. I constantly told my mum about the beatings but after her third visit she kept telling me to stand up for myself. Even my dad gave me a few pointers on how to tackle Barry. I stopped telling my parents when it looked like I was complaining a lot. The breaking point was when my father called me ‘a skirt’

So far my dad could say that, I agreed with Barry. I would never be a man in my life. I would always keep getting beat up. Not a problem, I could get used to it. I hope.

No one liked The Mound. It was just a heap of sand that marked the presence of bullying in the playground. Every other day, some unfortunate boy was taunted and beaten till Barry decided the boy looked just right. Today, I was a victim of The Mound. Barry had taken my lunch money and while I struggled to get it back, Lou and Bill grabbed my little legs and carried me to The Mound. There I got a few slaps and kicking. When I couldn’t cry anymore, I just choked on them. I was left there. I lay curled on The Mound. Break was over but I stayed on The Mound. No one bothered me. I looked up at the sky. It was a beautiful blue. The clouds a cotton white. Beautiful. What was beyond it?

Mummy always said heaven. And heaven was a beautiful place. Nothing bad- No Barry, No Lou, No Billy. Just happiness. Maybe if I went there, I’d be free of them. But what about my friends? Will they be there? Why not, they’re good too.

I’d thought about this a thousand times. I was sick of people calling me a skirt and looking at me like I was a weakling. Even my parents thought I was weak. What was worse than that?

Tonight.

I got home and went into my room. I was leaving. I was going to runaway from it all. I’d be free from all this nonsense. What did I want to pack with me? I picked out my Ben 10 back pack from the side of my wardrobe. I stuffed my Ben 10 toy and a few of my drawings into the bag. My teacher said I would be a DaVinci some day. I picked my toothbrush and paste. Don’t forget bathing soap and a fresh pair of underpants, two tees and my art box.  The bag was full. I was packed and ready. I shoved it under my bed. It would soon be over.

Tonight.

After a delicious meal of smoked chicken and sautéed potatoes, I took my bath and my mum and dad tucked me in. I got a warm kiss from my mum and my dad put out the light and shut the door. I jumped out of bed, and ran to the door. They had gone down. I had enough time to leave. I dressed up to the hilt, backed my pack then jumped on my bed. I reached out for the cough medicine on my bedside table. I had taken it from my parents room yesterday. I downed it all. It was expired- about 8 months back. I had a happy feeling as I lay down on my bed. Sleep was coming already. This was easier than they way Lilly said it. Her mother told her the easiest way to get to heaven was in your dreams and you had to wish hard to get there so you don’t miss your way. The cough medicine was to make me sleep quickly and to ensure a speedy transport.

There I lay on my bed, fully dressed with my pack on my back. Heaven here I come with my back pack. It’s going to be alright now. Just sleep.

And that’s how I left.