The day I heard Near

As a kid coming from a small third tier country, I never had the luxury of reading books or having a public library nearby. I grew up in a village where people traded potatoes and tomatoes for a living, and as a curious kid I never stopped asking questions about anything and everything. My parents were cultured fellow who understood life from a spiritual level, I saw their enjoyment and fullfillment in the smallest of things, praying to something unknown to me, my mind lurked into the possibilities. What could it be that makes humans so keen to omnipotence?

Throughout my childhood I was pure, I always felt sad when I saw another kid get hurt and cried when someone got punished. I did not believe in a system where punishing people make them more obedient and loyal. Rather I saw it as a way of control, people above who want to remain that way use it as a show of power to keep the hierarchy to their end, but I did not know of it. In my pure eyes I only saw generousity and the smiles of people, I was happy as long as everyone I met smiled and talked nicely. I learned from a really young age the simplicity of life and easier way to obtain happiness. However, after the very first year of me entering school, I saw a side I wouldn't ever see before, two kids throwing rocks at a bigger kid, one of the rocks hit the frontal lobe and I could swear that as I'm walking during the 'récréation' blood was gushing down that boy's eyes. The boys were far taller and looked bigger than me. I didn't feel bad for I didn't even understand the situation, I didn't know what violence was then, I only understood after (years to come) what that was. But my mind wired the memory and I still can see it to this day, the vivid image with the kid wearing a slightly torn grey shirt and the one of the others having a crimson jacket. But what I didn't understand is that there were so many kids around them then, there was no reaction and nobody did anything, so probably even other kids didn't understand what happened.

These small details of events that occur in most kids' lives are mostly forgettable, but we remember them fully because we always react in similar fashion to how we did the very first time. Similarly, I remember my first time being afraid, too afraid to go to school, and it was because I borrowed toys from some kids in my class and forgot to give them back, so they swore that tomorrow morning if I went to school they'll beat me up. Maybe my mind remembered the violent scene, or maybe just the idea of being beat up was scary, because I never experienced it, I don't understand what death is, and so the idea of putting yourself in a situation where u go closer to death gives birth to fear. And to kids, fear is alot easier to have than any other emotion. Especially if fear is built up from our homes, <YOU DO THIS, THIS WILL HAPPEN TO YOU>. I pretended to be sick and faked for a whole morning to make my parents believe it's real, as any normal kid would do.

A few years later, I moved in with my parents to a different city, one slightly more modern and one where the other part of my dad's family resides in. My grandfather agreed to lend my father a house next to his, and this is where everything took a turn. My father became instantly a target to all my aunts and uncles, because to them, he got a free house without much effort. The problem with this analogy is that the house we were given, is an old house where nobody lived in for more than 40 years and the last person who lived in it died in it. It was a haunted house. It smelled of cold and death, and had two floors, the first one is where we live and the second one remained unclean and too scary to even go to. At night we had to close the door to not hear the breeze's sound coming from the staircases and in the morning we would go upstairs but only to a room to play with my toys me and my brothers.

In this city, I met my cousins and we played alot of imaginary games, role playing cars having jobs being millionaires. Sometimes we play it in their house (which then was also the house of my grandfather) and sometimes we play in the second floor, where we have a lot of space and feeling of adventure is thrilling.

I have to note something, in my whole younger years, I did not have the opportunity to go out like other kids my own age, after a burning incident that changed my left arm forever, my mother was too afraid to let me go out. She was afraid of harm, of anything that could touch us. But this feeling of being caged coupled with my own fears created a barrier, an unknown location to my brain. Whenever someone confronts me, I stay silent, I can't talk back or say anything even if I was correct, the barrier of silence haunted me and is still haunting me. I couldn't talk to others so I relied on my brothers or cousins or anyone near me who can understand my intentions to do the talking.

But nobody can talk for me, I have to talk for myself. These words were injected me as I kept going to school everyday, whenevr I talked people seemed to bully me. Even if I was right, most teachers and students treated me as a castaway, and even tho I was smart and able to be the first in my school, I ran away, because the barrier of silence hid away my talents and made me feel confort.

But I found something, during these times that made me restore back the balance, and all I had to do was close my eyes and look at him. Look at how he does it, how he solves planetary issues. my Imaginary friend, Near.

That was the day, that I heard Near.