Tag Archives: tree

54. Escape From the Farm!

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It’s now the 4th day into my farming adventure.  I did not get out of bed to go up another tree.  I couldn’t help but notice there was a lot of commotion round about the place.  I decided to get up if for nothing else then to see what was happening.

To summarize; an older man, a Punjabi gentleman also did not get out of bed to go to the trees this morning.  It would seem it wasn’t by choice though.  The coroner had just arrived in the community to collect him; not an all together unfamiliar scene here apparently, at least according to the talk I was catching.

His personal belongings were soon collected by some authoritative figure at the camp.  This man had lived in a different ‘residence’ than I, so I didn’t actually see everything but of course word travelled fast and I was amazed when I heard about this man’s stash.

A wooden box had been retrieved from under his bed.  Apparently the elder man was indeed old fashioned and having no use for modern ways, never used a bank.  There must’ve been years of cash, his pay I guess, stuffed neatly away in that box.  

I remember hoping the right thing would be done and the money sent off to his next of kin, if indeed they could be found.  I was 22 years of age and I knew full-well that I didn’t want to leave this farm like that so …   

Escape from the farm!   I found the guys I’d came in with and thanked them for helping me get this job.  I confessed I was not cut out for this and it was my time to leave; must return to my original path, the one in the city.  

They offered to drive me to the Greyhound bus station and gratefully I accepted the lift.  It was nice to have a few dollars in my pocket:  I bought a ticket and was on my way.

Lalit offered a cheerful smile when I walked into his front door of the hotel.  It also felt good to pay my rent 2 weeks (total of $14) in advance.  

A nice hot shower was in order and that night I slept very well in my own space.  

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1. Imagination & Beyond! part 2

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It was 1941 and I was 6 years old when my parents put me into school for the first time.  Methodist Mission Boys School was the name and it was near my maternal aunt’s home in Toorak, Suva.  The school was just 3 blocks from her house so I had to stay in her home during the week for convenience.

I remember my 1st grade teacher, she was a nice Muslim lady.  Next year I had a male Hindu teacher for 2nd grade who just so happened to be my 1st grade teacher’s sweetheart.  How ’bout that?!  I know I was taught both Hindi and English every year in school; Hindi being the 1st language spoken at home.

My favorite memory was receiving fresh cold 🥛 every single morning at ten o’clock.  Lunch came at noon and I went home to eat, often rushing to play afterwards, enjoying a quick kicking around of the soccer ball with some of my classmates.

We were let out at 3 in the afternoon.  I did this for 4 years, going back to my home at 1 Mile for the weekends and school holidays.

One of many hot days it was when on a lunch break from school I ran home as I almost always did, anxious to squeeze in more play time with my mates.  At this time I was eight years of age.

There was a pakar tree (weeping fig or ficus), no more than 9 or 10 feet tall, growing on the side of my auntie’s house.  This lovely tree provided lots of shade from the brilliant sun.

Having overheated myself from the run I decided to cool off for a moment or two in the luxurious shade before going into the house for lunch.  Upon arrival at the tree I had placed both my hands on its trunk, leaning in towards it to better catch my breath.

Only a few seconds had passed and this tree started to shake violently; my thoughts were of a giant uprooting the tree from the earth!  I really thought it was an *earth-shake.  I then quickly wrapped my arms around its trunk just incase it was.

As a child I couldn’t think of what else to do, having only heard of but never experiencing an actual earthquake.

While I am hugging the trunk tightly, I hear my auntie’s voice calling to me from the kitchen window, telling me to immediately get away from the tree!  I instantly let go and ran straight away into the house as fast as I could, without question for the warning tone of her voice said it all.

I managed to eat a few bites of my lunch in silence, my auntie going carefully about her afternoon duties and neither one of us mentioning the tree.  I went over to the sofa, put my feet up and fell fast asleep.

My auntie did not wake me to go back to school nor did I go out to play that day.  Later that evening she told me to never go under that tree at noon.  What??  Out of respect for my elder, as we’ve been brought up to do, I did not question her warning.  I simply agreed.

Inside of me however this child’s curiosity was at full boil and my auntie’s unexplained warning was not enough to satisfy.  Why did the tree shake so and why, away from the tree all was calm as though nothing was afoot?

I remember noticing for a split second that several yards away, children were still playing and the grown-ups went about their business; no peculiarities there.  I simply had to know more.  Yes this young mind was always at work.

I decided I would have to make inquiries.  I’ve always been extremely inquisitive about the world surrounding me.  Eventually I questioned a few of my older (and wiser?) relatives and the reasoning came down to this:  at 12 noon and 12 midnight, the **churail occasionally passes by looking to harass a human or two and sometimes will just sit in these trees.

This tree must’ve been her vibrating chair then!  Therefore anyone unsuspecting and hanging out under the tree would be in danger of harm or at the very least, a dreadful fright.  Needless to say from then on I avoided these trees at all times!

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*earth-shake   simply the way us kids referred to earthquakes

*churail    witch

 

harbinger |verb| har·bin·ger

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Delightful bearer of perfect intentions; my little forerunner of good things to come!

I awoke late and lazily as this past Sunday morning called for. I decided to read for a while.  Pausing briefly, I looked out through the window. I saw a little black speck on a tree.  It took flight and I smiled, knowing then it was a cute little hummingbird.  I love, love hummingbirds! I adore many other creatures of course but for now I closed the book and was immediately inspired to write the following:

 

Hummingbird

A quick glance out the window and I see a tiny spec-like figure, there, in the tree.  Oh little hummingbird resting in exactly the same spot, I see that it is you once again.  Here you take pause but a moment’s rest while your little wings refresh for take two, or is it two hundred?

I know with the spirit of child-like amazement that in any moment you will begin yet another flight and leave me to wonder, where will you go to and at what speeds do you reach there?

My dear little harbinger, to whom else shall you bring great wonder and delight?  Oh what will you do next once you’ve left your perch again, on that same exact twig, of the same branch, stemming off a limb of the very same, life-giving tree?

Precious little hummingbird, in this short time which I have taken to write this love letter to you, I have witnessed your departure and arrival, seven times and I still know not which sweet flowers you sweetly sip your nectar from.

I can only find comfort in the knowing that you’ll return once more, to perch on that same exact twig, of the same branch, which has stemmed off a limb of the very same, life-giving tree!

To the beginning you always return. So then, shall I.

30th January, 2011                                                                                                                                  East Bay, California