"It Takes A Queen To Notice A Queen"

3/13/10

Thuli: A girl in one of my classes, 16 and a neighbor to my homestead. My student, my neighbor, and now my friend.

I invite her over for dinner. We sit on the floor of my hut eating our beans and rice. "What happened?" I ask as I place my finger on a puffy scar along her right temple. She looks down. "When my parents died I was ten. It was just myself and my two younger brothers and all of our parent's belongings. People, strangers to us, started coming to our home and taking our things. My aunti comes over one night taking EVERYTHING. I began to make a fuss about it. She took a large piece of wood and smacks me over the head with it. I fall to the floor...I wake up to her children splashing cold water over my face. My aunti took my two younger brothers. She didn't want me but left me on her homestead where I live now. She has another home where she works and visits this one on weekends. When she's home she locks me outside."
"Why does she allow you to stay in her home here?" I ask.
"I'm a security guard. During the week she needs someone to watch the house."
"Does she feed you?"
"No."
"Where do you get food?"
"Save the Children gives me a bag of millie meal every month. But I want to tell you a secret. Im a born again Christian now Simphiwe. I have an older boyfriend. He's very kind to me. He gives me food when I ask. We have sex...." She looks down, embarrassed. "Im a Christian now and I don't want to sleep with him anymore. But I'm afraid...he won't give me food if I stop."
I tell her I'll speak with SWAGAA. "There are other ways Thuli. You don't have to sleep with him."
"How do you do it?" She asks me.
"Do what?" I ask.
"You are strong. You tell us about transactional sex....you tell us there are other ways. You are old...you don't have anyone. But you are always smiling."

I think. I'm relieved. She has no idea about the mess inside my chest. Tangled feelings. Preaching to girls about independence when I find solitude to be so difficult. Trying hard to forget the past. The past: You think things are settled and then suddenly they come alive. A familiar sound, a smell...His mannerisms on someone else's face. The things he would like behind a store window. Sitting, waiting for him to discover them- without my help now. I have these feelings, useless and heavy, and I don't want to get rid of them just yet. Weakness. I'm smiling, but I'm not strong.

No more shoe-boxes full of memories you can just slide under your bed. Facebook: a slap in the face....the bearer of bad news. I sit in front of the computer. His Relationship Status: ENGAGED. I settle into this ever constant feeling: sorrow. I pick apart its pieces. I get comfortable with it. I am trying to empower young girls. I am trying to empower myself. I remember once being reduced to the touch of him. I remember everything I ever did for a man. His ideas, his beliefs, his family, his life. It's not just these African girls. It's every woman.

I'm a hypocrite. Who am I? 26 asking myself this question. My life, since 15, has been interrupted. My ideas, my beliefs, my family, MY life. And I still want to go back, to a place I can find him: Indiana. But in waking life and in my dreams I know, he is never coming back. I'm feeling a door shut inside me. A lock turning. Not just on him but everything we liked. The wheel is making a complete turn, a realization. He is gone for good. And I must be happy with this. I have faith time will work its slow erosion on me just as it has always done. But for now...there's comfort in memory. Weakness. My secret.

To them: I'm 26, alone, and smiling.

I promise Thuli to talk to SWAGAA. I hand her eggs, onions, cans of tuna, mustard...she squishes her face together. "OK..I'll keep the mustard."
"Come back when you're hungry. Remember, there are options Thuli." We hug goodnight.

A week later, I injure my foot and am sent to Mbabane. The doctor tells me I have to stay in town for physical therapy. The radiologist looks at my foot x rays. I stand next to her. "They look fine to me..can I go back to site now?" She laughs, "You were a dancer weren't you?" I tell her yes. "Let me show you a NORMAL foot x ray." The normal and abnormal hang in front of us. "Oh Jesus." I gasp. PCMO wants me to stay at a certain backpackers. I protest, "That place is a giant frat house....it's Friday. Please put me somewhere else." This backpackers is the cheapest. Doctor insists I try it out for tonight. I reluctantly go.

I arrive. Apparently the kids here are filming a movie that I'm sure only Youtube will ever see. Girls from Finland (Finland provides a lot of volunteers to teach HIV prevention in schools here in Swaziland) and boys from Italy gather around outside to the thumping music by the pool. Cane juice and Akon. Tall Finish blondes...nothing but legs and short skirts. Suave Italian men, hair slicked back, smoking cigarettes like the movies. The butt end buried deep in between index and middle finger. I have a seat at a table and watch the sex circus around me. A Swazi man sits next to me, his long dreads are pulled back. He comes from money. Family works with the UN. He's international. He calls himself Phumi. Phumi talks and I half listen. I'm distracted. I can't take my eyes off a certain woman. She stands tall, the wind blowing the thin fabric wrapped around her body. A beautiful afro and large earrings. Milky skin. The worker bees swarm around their Queen as she laughs- spouting Shakespeare to the sheep. I'm in love. And I'm caught. She notices my stare.

She walks over and places her hand on my shoulder, leans down close to my right ear- her afro barely brushing my face- and whispers, “It takes a Queen to notice a Queen.”

I’m not really sure what to say. I try to follow with equal grace and confidence. Just as I have noticed her, she has noticed me. The words tumble out of my mouth, “I, ah, was just admiring you. Everyone seems to just gravitate to you.” She takes a seat next to me. She says nothing as she pulls out a cigarette leaning her head to the side and lighting it with one eye closed. I’m Bond- James Bond- and I’ve discovered my sexy heroin. She inhales deep, exhales and glides the tip of her tongue across her lips- preparing for the introduction.

“I’m Tonya.”

Tonya. Thirty years old. Her father German, her mother Swazi. Tonya. Previous owner of Café Lingo- a very hip very Western restaurant with Jazz night on Fridays. Panera Bread with attitude and sexy outdoor seating. I sip my boxed wine out of a Dixie Cup as she speaks. I’m an impostor. Doesn't she know?
“And you are?” She asks. Cigarette finished- she holds her crystal of sparkling shimmering wine now. How did I escape the kiddy table? I like it here.
“They call me Simphiwe.” I say.
“And what do you call yourself?”
“Meredith.”
“Well Meredith, I hope you know who YOU are.”
“I’m confused. Why wouldn’t I?”
“Because I don’t see Meredith. I see Simphiwe. These fake braids…the skirt and scarf. Where are YOU in there?”
I’ve been caught. I knew I didn’t belong here…pretending
“I want to see YOU.”
“I don’t know anymore.” I say.

The Finish Females, the short sexy skirts buzz around us. Like the bull frogs, the insects, the night life- “I’m here…fuck me.” They call out. The Italian men….drunk…listen to their bodies- their calls.

But it’s my African Queen I’m interested in. My constant Swazi shadow- Phumi- is getting annoyed with my lack of attention on him. One of the drunk short skirts, trips and falls, the men are quick to help her up. I burst out laughing. Her fuck me calls… now ruined.
“Ah. There you are.” Queen says to me.
Confusion on my face.
“That laugh. Abrupt and bursting….and sometimes- unforgiving. THAT is YOU.”
I rest my head on my knees, fetal position, and listen.
“Even the way you sit…is YOU. It’s the outside I’m having trouble believing. But I see you now.”

She leans back gliding her index finger across the lip of her crystal glass. She wants silence. She wants me to think about her words. I look up at the night sky. The clouds are breaking- illuminated by the full moon. Cities and continents – stars and clouds. The natural night life is coming alive. The bats play above our heads. And who are YOU I wonder…tell me your secrets. It’s midnight- pre party over. My shadow pulls on my arm…. “Asembe.” “Lets go! Lets go!” He wants me to follow the short skirts to another house party. “I’m OK here.” I say. My Queen agrees, “I think I’ll stay too.”

Defeat. Swazi dreads sighs heavily and takes a seat next to me. I urge him to go and have fun but he doesn’t listen. A stubborn one. The short skirts and Italian men, dumb and dumber, make sure to kiss the Queen on each cheek before they leave. “Goodnight Love.” She says to each bee. No one kisses my cheek, no one notices me. I’m an impostor. With my fake hair and mustard stained attire…I’m America…just America. Not a mixture of anything. Not a little bit of this and a little bit of that…making a fancy blue cosmopolitan. Budweiser. I’m just Budweiser.

Our love triangle stays seated.

I tell her my stories…my time in Swaziland. I make her laugh. I make her tear. She is a city girl with a rural heart. Two hearts. German and Swazi…a beautiful blue Cosmo.

“You know Meredith. I am dating a Spaniard right now.” I like how she says right now…at any moment this powerful woman could easily be dating someone else..could have anyone. “You know, I love him. And I would never allow him to date another while dating me. But as strong and confident as I seem…if I were to marry a Swazi man, I would be OK with him taking on another wife. You would find me covering my mouth and looking down as I speak to him….like you do the girls in your class.”

Defeat. She sees the shock and horror in my face. She too, with that tangled mess in her heart. Her secret- like mine- weakness. Every woman: conditioned.

“It’s our way Meredith and you can’t change that.”
“But it doesn’t have to be YOUR WAY…it can change.” I plead.
She smiles at me as though I were some puppy with her favorite pair of shoes in my mouth. So cute- but so wrong. “No Meredith.” She lowers her voice. “That is where you are wrong. You can dance around these children and demand they look you in the eyes and demand confidence- but you’re not going to change anyone. You are here to TEACH not CHANGE people. You must realize, those are two different things."

Im 15 years old. My first boyfriend:The troubled kid in class. Smokes cigarettes, drinks…broken home. Abusive parents. Of course, I’m attracted to him. I do his homework …I try to show him what it’s like to be loved. I’m standing in the kitchen, my step mom is chopping onions. “I’m worried about you Meredith. This boyfriend of yours. He has a lot of problems and you can’t get involved.” She warns me. “But I can help him. I can change him.” I plead. She reminds me of her first husband. “I was like you too. I thought I could change Bob. You can’t change people Meredith. Only yourself.” My step mother, a counselor, telling me you can’t change people. This angered me. Until recently, I refused to accept such heart-breaking advice.

What the hell are we doing here.

“This one’s too hard headed Tonya. Don’t waste your time with her.” Phumi mumbles.
Tears collect in my eyes. “I’m a child in your world. I’m learning.”
Tonya smiles, “Just yesterday, I was a child. My car was being repossessed by the police. I found myself pleading with them on the side of the road. People were starring. But the police weren’t going to listen. My car was being taken away. And it was my fault. So you know what I did? In public, I, a Swazi woman, pull out a cigarette. I lean my back against the side of a building and ask the policeman for a light. I stood there smiling. I gave up caring who saw…proud to be a child again…learning another lesson.”

She looks down and tears begin to fill her eyes.

“Meredith. You’ve got to sit back and enjoy this ride. You can’t get caught up in trying to change people. Keep dancing and pushing them. You got it girl.” She smiles. “Show them who YOU are and so many will follow.” Her tears come back. “Show them who you are…and you can change the world.” I swallow hard trying not to cry. I don't think it was just me she was trying to convince tonight.Swazi dreads shrugs, “Ah, you can’t change this one- she’s just here to help us poor Africans who can’t help ourselves…like the rest.” Tonya grabs my arm, “This one’s important Phumi. I know it.”

It’s three in the morning. She stands to go. “I know we’ll see each other again Meredith.” I walk her to the door. "Put this one to bed...he's too drunk." She points to Phumi. He helps her with her jacket.

“You’ve touched me. You’ve made me feel like a Queen..." I tell her."I’m so inspired.”
“And that’s what you’ve got to do for our African girls Meredith. Show them, they too, are queens.”
We hug goodbye. She holds me hard. Don’t leave me with these toddlers. Face to face now. She holds the right side of my face with one hand. “Show them who you are….and they will follow.”

And then…my African Queen….was gone.

I stand alone with Phumi now by my side. He sighs, "Well...now what?" He asks. "I'm not sleeping with you." I say, and walk away. The insects the bull frogs the confused twenty something year olds. Again, I go unnoticed.

“It takes a Queen to notice a Queen.” I stand in the bathroom…my reflection in front of me. I grab a handful of braided extensions…Show them who you are……and I begin to cut.

"I've never been so alone. But I've never been so alive."