This is a story about two young friends from two different social back grounds. As the two worlds collide, what will it take to keep their friendship? How do they view each other’s worlds?
As I lay my wry body on my bedroom floor, I felt a nudge to speak to the confusion. I had a lot of questions about the level of inequality that others in my society experienced but I no answers.
Despite the confusion; the sun always rises with enthusiasm that lights our dreams every morning, bringing hope to us all - especially those that are in despair. Despair at the grinding suffering brought upon mankind – by mankind.
A Hierarchical Order
As a child Nali struggled to understand the meaning of a hierarchical society where order was forced upon those on the bottom. The ideas that counted were from those at the top, the top of a manmade fragile ladder that could shutter to pieces any time.
Her ideas of society were being moulded in a shape shifting mould that could not sustain them. Her father was a high society gentleman privileged with education and status. He had given her the paint brush to paint her ideal destiny. But could she really exercise her will? Would it be deemed ideal if the paint dripped off the painting creating its own unique formation?
As she took the journey to school every morning, she was reminded of her position of privilege; on her way to school; the immediate environment turned to a drastic dilapidation. It was as if she was encased from it all by the gates that separated the two worlds. But like everybody else, Nali had to have a life outside the protection of the gates.
Her school was a source of knowledge to many who attended it. But for her, that very knowledge had created what she saw as a restrictive society that favoured her over her scholarship friend Gidda.
Gidda told Nali old stories that created a hunger that curved away at her soul more than knowledge could ever have. She was fascinated by the power and wisdom of the stories. However, she could not tell whether it was the stories that transported her to a mysterious and magical place or the teller. She often wondered about the origin of the imagination that reached such depths. And she wanted a piece of it!
Gidda’s secret
The school was private, only offering five scholarships per year to those who had spent their time absorbing the knowledge that paved the passage to the golden ticket.
Gidda was very studious always handing in her home work on time. She usually left school promptly as if running away from something. Nali often wondered what urgently needed her friend’s attention. But Gidda had learnt the art of avoidance; she spoke in parables that were followed by a smile that closed the door to any probing questions.
She often found herself in the head’s office having to explain her way out of the usual formalities of after school clubs. Her exemption raised more questions than answers as some clubs were compulsory. But there was a price; Gidda had to partake in all lunch time clubs which made her, socially inept.
Nali was the only child remotely interested in Gidda. She seemed to have found whatever she was seeking in her friend. But did she know what she was seeking? Could she find a way to articulate it? In Gidda’s story telling, Nali was starting to claw away at something. Something she was determined to get to the end of. The story train was luring her to an irresistible mystery. What will it take to stay on the train?
Market Mysteries
Nali and her mother had established a Saturday morning ritual that had never been broken. They were drawn to the busy bustling market atmosphere. The market had been running for hundreds of years and had established a reputation for quality. But there was more, people were enticed by its exhibitions and a sense of celebration. It was as if everyone was looking forward to liberate themselves from the working mandatory days of the week.
It was not only a draw for social gathering but also weekly shopping as house wives came for their catch-up chats with their friends.
Nali’s mother was no different; the market was a way to get away from her husband’s Saturday morning hunting ritual. She loved shopping and often would pick up vibrant fabrics that reflected her love of colour and creativity. Because she did not have a job that demanded her time outside her home, she spent her time amassed in clothes design. She had a wide range of clientele that appreciated her talent. The market was a way to meet new clients and socialise with old ones.
Nali on the other hand, loved the market for its food and the entertainment it offered to children. It was also the only place she was allowed to wonder off. This way, her mum could still have the social meeting and shop for her fabrics hustle free.
One Saturday afternoon, Nali wondered off to a bakery; there were lots of bakeries in the market but she was lured by an invisible hand to this particular one. It must have been a good one, she thought; it had a lot of waiting customers. Evidently, there was urgency at the back of the bakery to clear the customer backlog. From the front, Nali could see barrels of floor being carried backwards and forth. Her eyes got accustomed to the sight as she stood waiting to be served.
As she patiently stood in a daze, she was snapped out of it by a shrieking voice asking her whether she had been served. She bent down to her purse to pay for the buns but as she turned towards the till, she stopped dead in her tracks. She had seen a familiar figure covered in flour at the back, her small body was weighed down by the barrel of flour. She wasn’t sure, so she pretended she could not find her purse, she asked the lady to serve the next customer and she went at the back, losing her place in the waiting line/queue.
She watched the back of the bakery intently like a predator waiting for a chance to pounce at its prey. An assembly line of tray bakes kept making their way to the front, ready for waiting customers. But one customer had lost her appetite for the buns; she was on a different mission. Nali had a range of feelings going through her mind by this point, what was she going to do if the figure she saw was Gidda?
It wasn’t long before another tray bake made its way to the front carried by the almost unrecognisable figure Nali had seen before. She gathered up all her courage and uttered the name Gidda! Gidda looked up with the innocence of a child that had just sensed play time. Nali screamed, `it is you, it was you!’ Tears wailing in her eyes she collapsed on the steps – crying her heart out. Suddenly everything made sense! Gidda leaving school promptly, never talking about her life and family.....
But what was Nali going to do about it? In her fragility, she picked up her buns from the counter. She knew she had to wait till closing time if she wanted to speak to her friend. But to achieve that, Nali depended on her mother who often left the market earlier every Saturday to entertain guests.
There were a lot of unanswered questions. Nali couldn’t understand a world where children worked in adult environments. Why did Gidda have to work?
Was Gidda going to open up to her friend?
Play Date
Saturday dinner could not come sooner, that was the only time the whole family ate together. As the conversation shifted from the mundane to the gory details of her dad’s hunting achievements. Nali was silent all the time trying to gain the courage to put what she had seen in words. She broke her silence by asking her father whether he knew about the existence of working children. Her father immediately dismissed the question with indifference.
As his daughter followed each dismissal with a new inquiry, he abruptly interrupted her with the response,` Working children are a societal problem, vermin that ensues our values – why do their parents have them when they clearly can’t afford them?’ In a state of shock at her father’s response, Nali stormed off the table in a raging flood of tears. How couldn’t believe her father could be so insensitive?
Nali’s father gave pursuit after her demanding for an explanation for what could have trigged such behaviour in her daughter. He worshipped the ground his daughter walked on. She seemed to be fitting in his idea of a perfect child until now. What had happened to his daughter, he wondered.
After a long and hard probing inquisition, he found out about his daughter’s friend and the circumstances that surrounded her. Armed with this knowledge, he replied that scholarships had the power to merge classes but Nali had to remember who she was. To which Nali replied, What/who am I?
In a heavy resignation Nali’s father plummeted on the edge of her bed realising the paradigm shift in his daughter. He was neither prepared for the question nor the answer. He had to accept the new mind shift in his little girl or lose everything he worked for. He turned towards his daughter and asked her to invite Gidda around for a play day.
Nali wasn’t only shocked but also suspicious of the sudden change in her father’s mentality. She immediately voiced her concerns. Her father reassured her with a sigh followed by, ` Your mother and I invite our friends, don’t we?’ You have the same right, bring your friend and chose how you spend your time.
The following Monday Gidda and Nali’s eyes met across the assembly hall. Like a stocker with good intention Nali followed Gidda shoving her way to the seat next to her. Silence ensued between the two friends. Nali suddenly broke the silence with a subtle, it’s okay!’ She continued with,you are my best friend, aren’t you?’ In Nail’s mind, the friendship was made stronger not weaker! She whispered in Gidda’s ear, ` Please come for a play day on Sunday, you are free aren’t you?’
Evidently hesitant Gidda replied that her mum has to give her permission. Nali promised that her parents would accompany her to pick Gidda up if she was okay with it. Nothing mattered, except their friendship.
Sunday came and with its demands of church attendance out of the way, Nali turned up at Gidda’s house. It was a lovely old cottage Gidda’s grandmother had left to her mother. It had an inviting aroma of roses as Gidda’s mum was a garden enthusiast.
The door flung open guarded by a slim tall woman, I am Nali and...... She was interrupted by a reply of, `Gidda has told me a lot about you!’
Without hesitation, Gidda presented herself at the door ready for the play day.
As Gidda sat next to her friend in a chuffer driven car, she seemed to have accepted her new mix of worlds. Worlds that were apart but yet together in that one moment, a moment she cherished.
From then on, both girls merged into each other’s circumstances with ease. Play days became the Sunday norm, they would often get lost in each other’s imagination.
Some further good came out of all this; Gidda’s mum was employed as a gardener at Nali’s – this gave the girls more opportunities to meet outside school.