The house was on flames. Smoke was everywhere. Grace Poole, Bertha’s keeper at Thornfield, had once again got drunken carelessly and wasn’t able to see Bertha escape from the attic. Bertha had enough. She was tired. Tired of being held captive by Rochester, tired of being treated so cruelly and tired of being tired. Bertha Mason was a once beautiful and wealthy Creole woman. She had an arranged marriage with Edward Rochester. An English man who stole her heart and married her. Bertha and Rochester had a great-married life at first until they failed to relate to one another and their marriage turned into betrayal and madness. Bertha lost her happiness, her husband’s love, her money and her freedom. He decides to take all she owned and keep her as his prisoner.
“She will have no lover for I do not want her and she will see no other”, were Rochester’s final words about his once beloved wife before he imprisoned her.
The curtains began catching fire one by one. The walls were losing their beautiful patterns and were slowly turning black. Grace’s alcohol bottles were smashed. In fact she had now turned into dust as well. Bertha made her escape before she was going to be affected by the fire. She wanted to live to see her plan for revenge tear Rochester apart. Just like she lost everything, she was going to strive to do the same to him and watch him suffer. She stood at the back of the house behind the trees watching it slowly collapse and the flames lighting up the dark starry sky.
Walking away and escaping from Rochester, she was suddenly roughly snatched by her arm by Edward Rochester himself.
“Bertha how dare you do this to me!”
“No Rochester! You did this to me. Just like you left me burning up on the inside and locked me in like I was an animal, I will too show you what it feels like to have nothing”.
“You are a mad woman, you always have been! Because of you Jane does not want to be with me anymore. You came out on our wedding day like the insane person you are and scurried on all fours growling like an animal scaring all of us away. You are just like your mother. And now you burn my house. Full of madness you are! You have inherited her mothers genes of insanity!”
“You lied to Jane from the beginning. She didn’t even know about me. It was a good thing I showed up. You are sick. Leave me alone I hate you so much”
Half the house was still in an appropriate condition. The fire was stopped before it got too late. No one lost his or her life apart from Grace Poole because she was up in at the attic and no one would have been able to get on the third floor in time. Bertha’s plan had won her revenge and she was happy for the first time in ages.
After this act of settling scores, Bertha was on her way to go see Christophine. Bertha had always turned to her in time of need. Ever since she was a little girl, Christophine was always the one she trusted. To Bertha, she was a mother figure.
She lived in a small house and still unmarried of course.
“I thank my God. I keep my money. I don’t give it to no worthless man” were Christopines once said words to Bertha.
When Bertha arrived at her house, like usual, she was welcomed with open arms by Christophine.
“I finally made my escape. I am free again. I wasn’t going to let him destroy me like my stepfather destroyed my mother” explained Bertha with tears running down her face.
Hugging her tightly, Christophine couldn’t be happier for Bertha. She always had something against Rochester. Perhaps it was the way he treated the people around him-with disrespect and selfishness.
Sitting in her warm cosy house, Bertha could not help but realise how Christopines house was filled with candles and coloured stones. The smell of essence raided the room. She was still practicing Obeah. Bertha remembered when she was a young girl, she was sometimes afraid of Christopine because she practiced magic. It seems like she is still the same, never changed.
Feeling lonely and emptier then ever, Edward Rochester decided to go and stay with Celine Varens until he sorted out his life. Originally he wanted to go see Jane Eyre but he knew it was not the right time. Not after everything had happened the way it did. Celine Varens was a French opera dancer whom Rochester had an affair with some time ago. Rochester and Celine have also had their share of conflict between one another. Rochester had broken off his relationship with Celine after learning that she was unfaithful to him and only had interest in his money. There was also the belief that he fathered Celine’s daughter Adele although he never believed it to be so. She moved from France to England not so long ago because she wanted her daughter to go to school here.
“What should I do Celine? I have lost everything. I have lost Bertha, I lost my house, all my belongings and the most thing I cannot accept is the fact that I have lost Jane. She was my last hope of making me happy. She was the lady I truly cared about with all of my heart. I need to get her back”
Rochester’s life was full of agonies. He eventually got his house fixed and went back to live a life of loneliness. His wealth didn’t buy him happiness. Rochester could not figure out what he wanted. He had some feelings left for Bertha but he knew it was pointless trying to carry on their married life because she hated him with a passion and her disease of madness was obviously not getting worse. He couldn’t figure out how to speak to Jane after she found out he had lied to her and still previously had a wife. He was confused like no other.
That afternoon, Rochester picked up the phone to contact Jane Eyre.
“Hello Jane speaking”
“Hi Jane, it’s me”
“Excuse me, I don’t know who me is”
“It’s me Edward. Edward Rochester. How are you? How have things been?”
“I would be lying if I said things have been great. After I fled Thornfield, I was penniless and hungry. I was forced to sleep outdoors and beg people to give me something to eat. It was impossible to be with you after everything that happened. Knowing that you paid Grace Poole to keep your wife hidden and under control shows how determined you were to keep this lie up to your new wife to be- me”.
“I don’t know what to say Jane. There hasn’t been a day where I haven’t had you on my mind. And for your information, Bertha has left. I don’t know where she is and I have not heard from her. She burnt my house down and fled. I have lost everything. Please Jane let me see you. I would like to meet and talk everything through”.
The next day, Jane and Rochester meet at her new home.
“Why hello there, you haven’t changed much? Come in”, said Jane.
“Thank you for giving us this opportunity to meet. There is so much I would like to tell you”
“And there is so much I would like to discuss with you as well. A lot as changed since we last spoke, or perhaps saw each other. Here take a seat. I will put the kettle on. I made some biscuits earlier as well. You can be the first to try them”, said Jane with a cheeky smirk on her face.
Rochester looked around in her house. It was small but cosy. Nothing in comparison to his house of course. There were photo frames above the fireplace. There was a picture of two ladies and other various one. However, Rochester kept starring at one in particular. It was one of Jane Eyre herself and another man. Wondering whom this man could be, Jane walks in with a tray of freshly baked ginger biscuits and a teapot.
“Fresh out of the oven. Looking at my pictures I see. I will explain who these people are. Now come on, drink your tea”
Rochester and Jane both sit on her floral couches opposite one another.
“I like your new place”
“Thanks. I am very grateful for it. The state I was in after leaving you was something unexplainable. But three very generous siblings guided me and I couldn’t be more thankful”
“Could those people be the ones in the picture up there?”
“Oh yes. I will tell you the story. It’s quite funny actually. Such a small world. The two ladies in that picture are siblings along with that man in the picture with me. When I was forced to sleep outside and beg for money, these three siblings named Mary, Diana and St. John Rivers took me in. St. John is pronounced like “Sinjin”. I quickly became friends with them”.
“Ah haa, keep going”, said Rochester while sipping his tea.
“Well they took me in and provided me with food and shelter. Things I was desperate for. St. John is a clergyman and he is an almost fanatical Christian of Calvinistic leanings. He is a very honest man and very patient, forgiving. He could have made a Saint I tell you”.
“Interesting. These are good biscuits by the way. Keep going then”
“Although St. John had good qualities, there were also some bad ones. See he is a very proud man. He is sometimes controlling and is not willing to listen to dissenting opinions. And his sisters, Mary and Dianna are both kind and intelligent people. They are both amazing girls”.
“Okay so how is it a small world?” asked Rochester
“Funnily, these three siblings turned out to be my cousins from my father’s side”.
“Oh wow, it is a small world”.
“I was only able to afford this house because St. John found me a job teaching at a Charity school in Morton. One day he came and surprised me by declaring that our Uncle Eyre had died and left me a large fortune of 20,000 pounds. When I asked him how he knew, he told me that he was also his uncle and that’s how we found out we were closely related. I shared my inheritance equally with my three newfound relatives”.
“That was very profound and thoughtful of you Jane. I am very happy you settled in well”
“I had to pay them back some how for the help they gave me. Without them, I probably would have still been a beggar on the streets”.
“Okay, so what are your cousins up to now?” asked Rochester.
“St. John has decided to travel to India soon as a missionary. He has been pressuring me to go with him to accompany him as his wife. I do not mind going to India I told him that but I cannot marry him because I do not love him. Even both his sisters warned me about marrying St. John”.
“Hmmm interesting. What else is there to know”? Asked Rochester.
“When he offered me to go to India with him as a missionary, he also offered me the chance to make a more meaningful contribution to society than I would as a housewife. But I knew that if I gave in to marrying him, I would live life without true love. I cannot live like that. I need love for spiritual solace”.
“So how did you come close to marrying him then?”
“He kept pressuring me to reconsider and that’s how I nearly gave in”.
“Okay I see…” muttered Rochester.
“Truth is Rochester, when I heard your voice on the phone, I truly realised that I cannot forever abandon the man I truly love. Despite what happened, I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind either”.
“Jane I cannot believe you just said that. I have been dreaming of this day. My house is so different without you in it. My whole life has changed. I never wanted Bertha I want you Jane!” explained Rochester
There was tension and silence between Rochester and Jane. Both were trying to now avoid what had been said and did that by sipping their hot tea and eating biscuits.
“Listen Rochester, when I was on the streets penniless and had nothing, I blamed it all on you. I still do have feelings for you and you are the one I have only ever loved but after what I was put through because of a lie, it has destroyed the trust and foundation of the relationship we had. I don’t think I can get past that. And to think you could hold a woman imprisoned against her own will shows the man you have once become. A woman that was once your wife. You and she both exchanged vows. How could you do that! On top of that, you made Alice Fairfax lie telling me those mysterious laughter’s I often heard echoing through the halls is in fact the laughter of Grace herself. I don’t think I can be with someone like that despite what my heart tells me; I still have to use my brain”.
Saddened by what he had just heard, Rochester just stares at Jane quietly. Taking a breath and a minute of silence, he begins to try and explain himself.
“Jane please listen as I explain. When I met Bertha, she was also beautiful and had a great personality. I fell in love with this Creole woman. However, during our marriage, she became insane, violent and bestial”.
“That still doesn’t make up for what you did Edward”.
“Well, throughout our marriage, I got a letter from Daniel Cosay. One of Alexander Co sway’s bastard children. The letter informed me of the madness that runs in Bertha’s family. He begged me to go see him as there was more to explain. And I did. I was shocked by what I had heard. I never knew her mother was a lunatic. She never told me that and when I asked about her mother, she would always change the topic. Bertha became exactly like her mother. Madness is in that family. I had to imprison her. She became dangerous Jane. She even tried to poison me so I could try and love her again. The last few days in our marriage, she even started to act like an animal. She would walk unsteadily and push me every time I tried to hold her. She would sit on the bed and clench her teeth on the bed sheets. Then she would make a clicking sound of annoyance. I began to hate her. She became dangerous and unsafe. I had to keep her in the third story because she was not healthy to leave. She would have either done something to herself or someone else”.
“I am terribly sorry Rochester. I don’t think I can get back and marry you. Instead of locking her up, you should have rather gotten her help instead. In a way I don’t blame her for burning your house down. If that were my only source of escape, I probably would have done the same”.
“Okay, I guess its useless trying. I wish you all the best with St. John if you do plan to marry him. I will always have you in my heart”.
With one last hug with Jane, he picked up his jacket and left to go back to his empty house.
Jane watched him leave. She sat in the lounge alone thinking about what had just happened. Her feelings are both mixed of sadness and happiness. She is sad that she just watched her love walk away from her but happy that she did the right thing. She knew that if he could do that to a different lady, then he could do it to her someday. She also made a decision about St. John. Jane thought she would go on the trip itself because she hadn’t been to India before but she will not marry St. John either.
“Maybe I will find love in India”, Jane thought.
Sunday, November 9, 2008
Friday, October 10, 2008
Re-Write on Elizabeth(film) by Jan
Hi guys. Finally I have uploaded my re-write, which I have requested the extension from Paul. It was so hard with the topic I have chosen but I think I have tried my best to put the history together from a lot of research. I was not able to write exactly the same as my proposal in the part of Spanish Armada due to the space. But I am pleased to cover the romantic story in the English history of love triangle between Queen Elizabeth I, Sir Robert Dudley and Lady Amy Robsart which I have re-write ideas from the movie “Elizabeth”. I hope you all enjoy my re-write.
Cumnor Place in 1557
In Robert’s dream, he saw once again the empty room, he was accompanied by a priest of the newly restored Roman Catholic Church, and he had repented of his sins and recanted his principles. He had begged for forgiveness and slavishly apologised. He had thrown away all fidelity for the chance of forgiveness, and by the anxious turning of his head as he searched the faces of the small crowd, he was hoping for the arrival of his pardon at this late, this theatrical moment.
He had every reason to hope. The new monarch was a Tudor and the Tudors knew the power of appearances. She was devout, surely would not reject a contrite heart. But more than anything else; she was a woman, a soft hearted, thick-headed woman. She would never have the courage to take the decision to execute such a great man; she would never have the stamina to hold to her decision.
The door behind Robert opened and a gaoler came in and laughed to see the two young men up at the window, shading their eyes against midsummer sun. ‘Don’t jump’, he said. ‘Don’t rob the axe man; it’ll be you two next.’
‘I will remember you for this, after our pardons have come, and we are released,’ Robert promised him and turn his attention back to the green. Below on the scaffold, the priest stepped up to the condemned man, and read him prayers from his Latin Bible. Robert found he was suddenly cold, chilled to ice by the glass of the window he was resting his forehead and the palms of his hands, as if the warmth of his body was bleeding out of him, sucked out by the scene below. On the scaffold, his father knelt humbly before the block. The axe-man stepped forward and tied the blind-fold over his eyes, he spoke to him. The prisoner turned his bound head to reply.
‘Be still.’ Robert roared, hammering against the thick glass of the window. ‘Father, be still! For God’s sake, be still.’ The blood was pumping from the wound but the man still scrabbled like a dying pig in the straw.
‘Father!’ Robert cried out in agony as the axe came down. ‘Father!’
‘Robert?’ ‘My Lord?’ He opened his eyes and Amy before him, her brown eyes open wide.
‘Good God! What a nightmare! What a dream. God keep me from it. God keep me from it.’
‘Was it the same dream?’ she asked. ‘The dream of your father’s death?’
He could not even bear that she should mention it. ‘Just a dream,’ he said shortly, trying to cover his wits. ‘Just a terrible dream.’
‘But the same dream?’ she persisted.
He shrugged. ‘It’s hardly surprising that it should come back to me. Do we have some ale?’
Amy threw back the covers and rose from the bed, pulling her nightgown around her shoulders. But she was not to be diverted.
‘It’s an omen,’ she said flatly, as she poured him a mug of ale. ‘It’s a warning,’ she said.
Robert took a draught of ale, burying his face in the mug to avoid her accusing gaze.
‘A bad dream like that is a warning. You should not sail with King Philip.’
‘We’ve been through this a thousand times. You know I have to go.’
‘Not now! Not after you dreamed of your father’s death. Your father is warning you beyond the grave. You be a good husband,’ she retorted. ‘And don’t leave me. Where am I to go when you have sailed for the Netherlands? They will think you have left me because you are tired of me,’ she said reproachfully. ‘Anyone would think so. You have only just come home to me and you are leaving me again.’
‘Amy, forgive me. These months have been like a lifetime. With my name attained by treason I can own nothing in my own right, I cannot trade or sell or buy. Everything my family had was seized by the Crown. I know, everything that you had has been lost by me. I have to get it back for you. I have to get it back for us.’
‘I don’t want it at this price,’ she said flatly. ‘It is not what I want, it’s no good for me. I want you by my side.’
‘I have to go,’ he said. ‘I would rather be dead and my name cleared by my death, than live like this, an undischarged traitor from a disgraced family, in Mary’s England.’
‘Why? Would you rather have Elizabeth’s England?’ she hissed.
‘With all my heart,’ he answered truthfully.
************************************************************
1558
“The Queen is dead. Long live the Queen.”
“The Queen is dead. Long live the Queen.”
“The Queen is dead. Long live the Queen.”
All the bells in Norfolk were ringing for Elizabeth, Pounding the peal into Amy’s head, first the treble bell screaming out like a mad woman, and then the whole agonising, jangling sob till the great bell boomed a warning that the whole discordant carillon was about to shriek out again.
She pulled the pillow over her head to shut out the sound, and yet still it went on, until the rooks abandoned their nests and went streaming into the skies, toss in and turning in the wind like a banner of ill omen, and the bats left the belfry like a plume of black smoke as if to say that the world was upside down now, and day should be forever night.
Amy did not need to ask what the racket was for; she already knew. At last, poor sick queen Mary had died, and Princess Elizabeth was the uncontested heir. Praise be. Everyone in England should rejoice. The protestant princess had come to the throne and ringing bells for joy, dancing in the street and throwing prison doors. The English had their Elizabeth at last and the fear filled days of Mary could be forgotten.
Everyone but Amy.
Everyone but Amy.
This news of Elizabeth did not bring Amy to joy, she did not celebrate Elizabeth’s upward leap to the throne. “God strike her dead,” she swore into her pillow. “God strike her down in her youth and her pride and her beauty. God blast her looks and thin her hair and rot her teeth and let her die lonely and alone. Lonely and alone like me.”
Amy had no word from her husband. Another day went by and then it was a week and then it was a month. Amy guessed that he would have brought the news of Queen Mary’s death to Hatfield Palace and he would have been the first to kneel before the princess and tell her she was queen. Perhaps now he and princess were celebrating the great news together.
She knew that she should be glad to be Lady Dudley once more. She knew that she should be glad for her family and she knew she should be glad that the queen favours him. But she was not. She knew that she was a jealous wife – How could we end up like this? How could it start so well, in such a glory day and end in the hardship and loneliness like this?
************************************************************
1559
The lilies were out in the Cambridgeshire in a sprawl of cream and gold in the fields by the river and the blackbirds were singing in the hedges. Amy went out riding with Mrs Woods every morning and proved to be a charming house guest.
‘How is Robert? Have you not seen him since the queen inherited?’ Mrs Woods asked incredulously.
Amy laughed it off. ‘I thought he would come home for Twelfth Night, indeed, he promised that he would; but since he is Master of Horse, he was in charge of all the festivities at court, and he had so much to do. The queen rides or hunts every day, you know.’
‘Don’t you want to join him?’ Mrs Woods asked.
‘Oh, no,’ Amy said. ‘I went to London with him when his father was alive and the whole family was at court and it was dreadful!’
Mrs Woods laughed at her. ‘What caused you to be dreadful?’
‘There is nothing to do and but stand and talk of nothing. There is the business of the Privy Council and Parliament to discuss.
Mrs Woods laughed at her again. ‘But the life in court pleases Robert. What about you?’ Mrs Woods bringing her horse alongside the younger woman.
‘I keep faith, I wait for him.’ Amy said.
************************************************************
Elizabeth had restored private letter from Philip of Spain, had went far enough to alarm William Cecil and Robert Dudley.
‘I’m certain that she is only securing Philip as an ally and amusing herself,’ Mary Sidney said to reassure her brother.
‘Does she want him to stand her friend so that she can against the Scottish regent? Does she like Cecil’s plan to support the Scottish Protestants? Is she planning for war as Cecil suggested?’ Robert asked his sister worriedly.
‘She worries what enemies she might unleash here. She is living in the terror of someone coming against her and secretly harms her. She dares not to do anything to increase the number of enemies.’ She replied. ‘Cecil would have her marry Arran.’ Mary guessed. ‘Cecil hates Spanish and France is our greatest danger.’
‘Have you ever seen Arran?’ he asked.
‘No, but Catherine Knollys speaks very highly of him. She says he is handsome and clever, and of course his claim to the throne of Scotland is second only to Mary, Queen of Scots. If the queen marries him and he defeats the regent and takes the throne, then their sons would unite the Kingdoms.’ She said.
‘He is our greatest danger,’ Dudley said with his face darken.
‘She likes you better than any other man at the court,’ she said, smiling. ‘She is always saying how skilled you are and how handsome you be. She is always remarking on it.’
‘What good is that to me since I have a wife?’ he asked. ‘Elizabeth would not marry against policy, whatever her desires. And I am not a free man.’ he said.
‘The queen only has her eyes for you; the entire world can see that! Half the men at the court hate you for this.’ She said. ‘But I never dreamed that you thought of anything more.’
‘Of course I think of it,’ He said. ‘But I cannot imagine how it might come to me. I am a married man and my wife is not strong; but she is not likely to die within the next twenty years, and I would not wish it on her. Elizabeth is a Tudor inherited, she will marry for power and desire, just as her sister did. Arran would be a great match for her; he could unite the Scots against any nations. England would become an unbeatable kingdom.’
‘It is best for England, even if it might be against our own personal desires?’ she looked at her brother.
‘What is good for England is good for the great family, The Tudor, The Parrs, The Cecils and The Seymours. And the one that greatest of them all is the one that manages its own business the best,’ he said. ‘There is no point in being the favourite unless you raise yourself to the first man in the land.’
************************************************************
1560
Amy paid a visit to Mrs Woods once again in end of August month and told her that she must leave at once.
‘I am so sorry you are going,’ Mrs Woods said warmly.
‘I will come another year, if I can,’ she said. ‘Sir Robert has just sent for me to go to meet him at Camberwell, I have to go at once.’
‘To Camberwell? Does he mean you to go to the city? Will he take you to court? Shall you see the queen?’ Mrs Woods said.
‘I don’t know,’ Amy said, laughing with joy. ‘I will write and tell you all. Everything! What the queen is wearing, and who is with her, and everything.’
‘Perhaps she will take you as one of her ladies in waiting,’ Mrs Woods said.
Amy shook her head. ‘Oh no! I couldn’t do it. He would not ask it of me. He knows I cannot bear court life. But if we had the Flitcham Hall for all the summer, I could live with him in London in the winter.’
‘I think you could! How grand he is becoming, how grand you will be, you must not forget me.’ Mrs Woods gave a little cry. ‘Such a hurry!’
‘I cannot delay, my lord wants me.’ Amy said.
‘Perhaps I may call on you in London. Perhaps I shall call on you in your new London house.’ Mrs Woods said.
‘Thank you; I have had such a merry visit. And when my lord and I are settled in our new house you shall come and stay with me.’ Amy said.
************************************************************
September 1560
Elizabeth’s birthday celebrations, which had started with a roar of guns, ended in a blaze of fireworks that she viewed from a barge in the Thames, with her closest friends and her lover at her side.
‘She will have to marry soon,’ Laetitia observed. ‘Or she’ll have left it too late. Well, you have seen to that. ‘For being betrothed without love I am unlikely to find it now.’
‘For most women it is better to marry well than to marry for love,’ Catherine said. ‘Love may follow.’
‘It didn’t follow for Amy Dudley,’ Laetitia said.
‘A man like Robert Dudley would bring trouble for his lover or his wife,’ Catherine said. As they watched, the barge rocked and Elizabeth stumbled a little. At once Robert’s arm was around her waist and, careless of the watching crowds, she let him hold her and leaned back against him so that she could feel the warmth of his body at her back.
‘Come to my room tonight,’ he whispered in her ear.
‘You will break my heart,’ she whispered. ‘But I cannot. It is my time of the month. Next week I shall come back to you.’
‘It had better be soon,’ he warned her. ‘Or I shall come to your bedchamber before the whole court.’
‘Would you dare to do that?’ she whispered.
‘Try me,’ he recommended.
************************************************************
Back in Cumnor Place 8 September, 1560
Amy, seated in the silent house, waited for Robert’s arrival, as he had promised in his letter. The house was quite empty except for old Mrs Owen who had gone to sleep in her room after an early dinner. Amy had walked in the garden, and then, obedient to the instructions in Robert’s letter, gone to wait in her room in the empty house.
The window overlooked the drive and she sat in the window seat and watched for the Dudley and his horse. ‘Perhaps he has quarrelled with her,’ she whispered to herself. ‘Perhaps she is tired of him. Or perhaps she has finally agreed to marry the archduke of France and they know that they have to be apart.’
Whatever the reason be. I have to take him back without reproach. That would be my duty to him as his wife. She could not stop her heart from lifting.
She heard the sound of a single horse and she looked out of the window. It was not one of Robert’s horses, and not Robert. It was another man, bowed low over the neck of the horse, his hat pulled down over his face. Since no servants at home, she had better go and greet this stranger herself. But as she did so, her bedroom door silently opened, and a tall stranger came in quietly and shut the door behind him.
‘Who are you,’ Amy gasped.
‘Lady Amy Dudley? Sir Robert’s Dudley’s wife?’ stranger said.
‘Yes, and you are?’ She asked.
At once the man stepped behind her. In one swift motion he took her jaw in his hands and quickly twisted her neck sideways and upwards. It broke with a crack, and she slumped in his hands without even a cry.
He lowered her to the floor, listening intently. There was no sound in the house at all. She had sent everyone away, as she had been told to do. He picked her up, she was as light as a child, her cheeks still flushed pink from the moment that she thought that Robert had come to love her. The man held her in his arms and carried her carefully from the room, down the little winding stone stair, a short flight of half a dozen steps, and laid her at the foot, as if she had fallen.
He paused and listened again. Still, the house was silent. Amy’s hood was slipping back off her head, and her gown was crumpled, showing her legs. Gently, he pulled down the skirts of the gown and put the hood straight on her head. Her forehead was still warm, her skin soft to his touch. It was like leaving a sleeping child.
************************************************************
Amy’s body was found by two servants who had come home from the fair, a little ahead of the others. They were courting and had hoped to steal an hour alone together. When they came into the house they saw her, lying at the foot of the stairs, her skirts pulled down, her hood set tidily on her head. The girl screamed and fainted, but the young man gently picked up the body and laid her on her bed. When Mrs Forster came home they met her at the gate and told her that Lady Dudley was dead from falling down the stairs.
************************************************************
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
My rewrite on Advantures of Huckleberry Finn
“Good morning, Jack! Such a nice day, huh?”
“Yeah, too good to be working.”
Yolanda took a glance at the two Caucasian gentlemen wearing nice and fit black suit passing by her and heard their conversation. Then she looked down at the baby in her bosom. The dazzling and hot sun was shedding a yellow luster over the little baby and that seemed awoken the baby from his sweet afternoon nap, and he was looking at her with frowning face as if he was about to say something. She looked at the baby very peacefully and joyfully, and the baby looked at his mum Yolanda. Yolanda smiled at him and said,
“ Jim! Today is a very nice day, isn’t it? Had a good sleep, love?”
It has been two days now for Jim to be adopted by an American black woman Yolanda, so everything with the new mother looked new and scary for the one year old boy. Jim has black and twisted hair, black coloured skin, big but tearful eyes as if he still remembers all the happenings happened over the last few days, just before he came to Yolanda who has a small nose, a dark and thick lip that are all features of blacks. People passing them passed by with only a slide glance at them and maybe they thought a crazy black woman who likes extravagance is looking after a negro beside of a café. She took a sip of tepid water and reminded of the two Caucasian gentlemen. Then she said to Jim with a lovely smile. “I will nurture you well so everybody respects you. Believe in me, son”.
Jim became 17 years old and he was such a quiet student among his classmates. He was living with his step-mother Yolanda and he wished lots but had few friends at school. There were few black students as well and Jim felt a kind of homogeneity from them for some reason and he wondered if they were having same life as him.
“Hey, you, nigger, wanna fight with me? Huh?” said Chris the white-skinned leader of the gang; they despised black people for no reason. They fasten a quarrel on any black mates, find quarrel in a straw to any black mates they see. Also, they even commanded to do things like drinking water of toilet bowl, carrying schools bags of the gang’s members from their houses to the school and other things even worse. But nobody didn’t complain this to teacher or stay against it, they rather enjoyed.
“Hear me, I am calling. Oh! my brothers.
“Shut up! You stupid creature!!” said the boss.
***************
Jim arrived at school and got into his classroom. His big and sunken eyes stared in wonder, because his desk and chair were covered with graffiti and mud. But he cleaned alone quietly, didn’t even talk or look at the gangs that looking and giggling at him. Jim was looking down with downcast eyes so they couldn’t see, but his eyes became big bright and glared at the mob.
‘Surely will revenge on you. There WILL be one day you repent your sins…’ Jim firmly determined.
“Hey, nigger! Why did you clean my drawings off? You didn’t like that, huh? Come out there after the school.” Chris seized Jim by the collar and said in a commanding tone as usual. The place called there was known only to the gangs and Jim; used to ail and beat him (they called educating him). The place was actually a school waste disposal site where normally nobody visits unless the entire students do the school cleaning.
‘What are they cruel to me for?’ Jim wondered…But for a second, Jim thought he had stood to the best of his capacity. Suddenly, the bell had rung which means finally, the time has come for them; time to meet at the place. Jim was afraid, but what could he do? “See you later, son of a whore!” said Chris in a sarcastic voice. When he called his mother “a whore”, Jim was very furious. “My mother is not a whore!” Jim wanted to say this, but he couldn’t. ‘America freed us, but why? Why should I be teased for?’ He questioned himself and he received no reply. All he could do was to clench his fist. On his way to meet Chris, he passed a specially designed cooking class. There were 8 small real kitchens including real cooking stuffs in the classroom. Anyway, for some reason, the class was open with lights on. Jim thought.. and he went into the class… He saw a kitchen knife being at a wrong place. He grabbed it. Then Jim decided to put it in the right place, but he took it with him at the end and kept walking towards there. He’s hidden the knife on his back inside of his clothes, so no one could see that. Who can imagine such a black student is carrying a kitchen knife in his body and search for his mates?
Jim arrived there, but only cold wind was welcoming him. “Akkk!!” Suddenly, somebody hit Jim’s calf with a thick wood stick. He fell forward and looked back to see who. As was expected, that was Chris. When Jim was about to stand up, Chris punched his face several times. “Hey, you, son of a whore, your mum is a whore, right? Your mum gets a lot of money, huh? You rich? Nah, who wants to sleep with your fucking negro? Haha”. The followers were standing behind of Chris and laughing with their arms folded. He stood up staring at him (for the first time), because he couldn’t control anger. “My mother is not a whore!” shouted Jim. Jim finally got into a rage and flew out at him. Jim has been forgetting everything they had done to him, but how could he forget this? Of course, the gangs were stuck dumb with surprise, because they’ve never expected or even thought about this situation and when Chris was about strike his fist on Jim’s face, Jim took out the knife, then the knife stabbed Chris. Then the followers ran away.
*******************
Jim realized that things will become too different from now on. ‘This is it. Now everything is over. No one would tease me anymore. I am brave.. I am brave..’ And he walked to home with vacant face. Yolanda was at home sewing her old cloth. She looked tired and sad, but welcomed him with a forced smile. “Hi, son, how was your school today?” She must have wanted “yes” answer, but she looked at his vacant face instead and sensed something was wrong. “What happened, Jim? What happened?” Yolanda had an uneasy look and asked. Jim answered quietly. “I killed Chris.” Yolanda couldn’t believe her ears, but her eyes were admitting the fact. ‘Tell me it’s a joking.’ Her words were just whirling around her mouth. The news was too shock to her that for a while she remained stupefied. How could he? How could he have done that? Finally Jim hardly opened his mouth. “Mum, I am sorry, but it couldn’t be helped. I am sorry.” Yolanda kept looking at him imploring on his bended knees.
**************
People were passing me as normal and everything seemed fine so far. ‘They must have not recognized me yet’, I took a deep breath and thought. When I saw my house from far, it seemed nobody was hanging around there. So I ran to the house and took my ring. That ring was given by my mother and she gave me when she was dying. This is only one she left for me and the rest of her relics; must have burnt by somebody I don’t know. Then, I got out of the house, and my mind has gone white all of a sudden. I really hoped I become an insane person so remembers nothing.
I sat on a cold chair. The police station was quite noisy but there was a faint suggestion of cruelty in the air. “Now! Tell me where your son is. Then I will free you.” The policeman said threateningly. “I truly don’t know.” I said. He hardened his face and asked clearly again. “Now, you know your damn son killed a person who is very important. How cocky guy, isn’t he? So, I need to know where he is. If you don’t tell, you won’t survive.” He explained slowly but carried weight. “Sir, I don’t know. I really don’t know. Please just kill me. He has done nothing wrong. It’s to do with my wrong upbringing. Please.. please kill me. He has done nothing wrong.” I worn a tearful face and spoke out of my heart kneeling down and I implored him frantically. “Please kill me.” I don’t know how many times I repeated these words. Then, an upset looking man came up to me and seized me by the collar at once and said in an angry voice, “Listen carefully. Your fucking son killed my cousin. I will find him anyhow and kill him. And, I will kill you too.” And he stood up. He said something to other policemen, and I got into a jail, without letting me know how long I would be seized.
Two week after.
Outside became dark, like my life. In here, they provided only a piece of bread for meal, and two glasses of water for one day. But I didn’t mind it, because only Jim was in my head all day long. And I didn’t know how, but my Korean friend Tom was working here watching my movements. I was happy as long as I can see my friend’s face before I die. One day, I was lying down on the floor thinking about Jim. I awoke until mid-night. But suddenly, my iron-barred window started to shake. I tried to hide in a corner at least thinking who the person would be and hoped it’s not Jim.
3 weeks before
“Jim, go wherever far from here, doesn’t matter where, but far far away from here. You understand?” Mum said quietly. “I will definitely come back here to get on the train. So you go first, I will find you wherever you are. You understand? You promise me to get on the train.” She said. So I nodded. Then she left me alone and the next train stopped by me soon and the door was open. I looked back but nothing was there, but some rowdy white people. I got on the train, but my brain kept saying no, so I got off the train soon after. Then the door of the train closed and left me. I thought.. and I thought again.. How can mum find me when I go away? I looked down the floor and thought aloud, ‘the floor is as black as me..’ Suddenly a small round stone rolled towards my right foot. “Oh!” I grabbed the stone and wrote something just under the chair I was sitting on like this. “TNS” It wasn’t big sign but was recognizable. TNS stands for State of Tennessee, and I hoped my mum could recognize my sign. After about 10 minutes, another one came by me and I left my village the State of Mississippi. And after leaving my mother there, I started working on a ranch waiting for my mother to come and take me away. But it has been 3 weeks already, but she didn’t come. I sensed something is wrong with her, so I took a train going to Mississippi and arrived when night falls. Under cover of night, I walked towards my friend Huck’s home. The streets were the same and everything was the same as before; it was only me changed.
“Oh, my god! Jim! Come on in.” Huck welcomed me, which was lucky I thought (actually I was worrying because he could have kicked me out because I was a murderer).
“Oh, my god. Jim! You got so much lean. Did you have dinner or something?” Huck asked with surprise. “Do you know where my mum is, Huck?” I got into a straight question. “Oh… I am so sorry to tell you, but your mum was arrested by the police.” Huck’s voice was shivering. “When was it? How? So where is she?” My voice was loud, I couldn’t control my mind and was close to explode my anger. Then Huck said in a calm voice, “I don’t know exactly when, but few weeks ago. I heard from others, but people said your mum is going to die… That’s all I know.. Sorry, Jim.” I had my heart break, so couldn’t even say something anymore, just shedding tears.
*************
“Look at this, Yolanda, a negro is put to death by hanging? This is open to public near the Mississippi river.” “Jim!!” Yolanda shouted and they looked each other’s eyes. “No, no no. this can’t be. This can’t be. We gotta go there now!” Yolanda’s thin face became pale, and they both ran like crazy to the hanging place. At there, a big and dark gallows was standing and a lot of people were already there probably to enjoy someone’s death. Between the big and high gallows wood pillars, there was a black boy who was small and as thin as a stick. “Jim!!” Yolanda shouted at Jim but he couldn’t hear it as the place was very noisy because of people swearing and throwing stones at him. He looked very exhausted so was faltering instead of standing properly.
“Yeah, too good to be working.”
Yolanda took a glance at the two Caucasian gentlemen wearing nice and fit black suit passing by her and heard their conversation. Then she looked down at the baby in her bosom. The dazzling and hot sun was shedding a yellow luster over the little baby and that seemed awoken the baby from his sweet afternoon nap, and he was looking at her with frowning face as if he was about to say something. She looked at the baby very peacefully and joyfully, and the baby looked at his mum Yolanda. Yolanda smiled at him and said,
“ Jim! Today is a very nice day, isn’t it? Had a good sleep, love?”
It has been two days now for Jim to be adopted by an American black woman Yolanda, so everything with the new mother looked new and scary for the one year old boy. Jim has black and twisted hair, black coloured skin, big but tearful eyes as if he still remembers all the happenings happened over the last few days, just before he came to Yolanda who has a small nose, a dark and thick lip that are all features of blacks. People passing them passed by with only a slide glance at them and maybe they thought a crazy black woman who likes extravagance is looking after a negro beside of a café. She took a sip of tepid water and reminded of the two Caucasian gentlemen. Then she said to Jim with a lovely smile. “I will nurture you well so everybody respects you. Believe in me, son”.
**************
Jim became 17 years old and he was such a quiet student among his classmates. He was living with his step-mother Yolanda and he wished lots but had few friends at school. There were few black students as well and Jim felt a kind of homogeneity from them for some reason and he wondered if they were having same life as him.
“Hey, you, nigger, wanna fight with me? Huh?” said Chris the white-skinned leader of the gang; they despised black people for no reason. They fasten a quarrel on any black mates, find quarrel in a straw to any black mates they see. Also, they even commanded to do things like drinking water of toilet bowl, carrying schools bags of the gang’s members from their houses to the school and other things even worse. But nobody didn’t complain this to teacher or stay against it, they rather enjoyed.
One day, Jim was just walking towards the school in the morning and Chris stood in front of him behaving frivolously. Jim couldn’t keep walking as Chris was disturbing him, but Jim said “sorry” and went around Chris and kept walking. Then Chris tripped him up so he had fallen near a little dirty pond. Then the gangs laughed loudly pointing at him and then left. Jim shook dust and mud off his clothes and kept walking. He used to be suffered from the hooligan’s harassment since he was a child. Long time ago, when he came home with dirty clothes because of white people, he often cried and asked to Yolanda, “What are they cruel to us for?” and Yolanda replied him with no answer. And now, it went over madness and became normal to him. But soon after, his face drenched with tears.
Yolanda was working on a vegetable farm. She was such a hard worker than others (because she was under pressure of the boss) but she got only paid half amount than what she has to be paid for. There was terrible racial discrimination on the workplace; there were few white men working for the farm as well but they didn’t have to work as much as Yolanda does, and they got paid even more than her, but they thought it’s fair though. Although she got small salary, with her patience and honesty, she could afford a small underground house which was reasonably suitable for them. While she was planting some cabbage seeds, she hummed a song she used to sing years before with friends;
Yolanda was working on a vegetable farm. She was such a hard worker than others (because she was under pressure of the boss) but she got only paid half amount than what she has to be paid for. There was terrible racial discrimination on the workplace; there were few white men working for the farm as well but they didn’t have to work as much as Yolanda does, and they got paid even more than her, but they thought it’s fair though. Although she got small salary, with her patience and honesty, she could afford a small underground house which was reasonably suitable for them. While she was planting some cabbage seeds, she hummed a song she used to sing years before with friends;
“Hear me, I am calling. Oh! my brothers.
Hear me, I am calling. Oh! my sisters.
Where is the street we can walk down together?
Where can we meet we greet one another?
Where is the love that can make men free?
Here we can hope, we ca…”
“Shut up! You stupid creature!!” said the boss.
***************
Jim arrived at school and got into his classroom. His big and sunken eyes stared in wonder, because his desk and chair were covered with graffiti and mud. But he cleaned alone quietly, didn’t even talk or look at the gangs that looking and giggling at him. Jim was looking down with downcast eyes so they couldn’t see, but his eyes became big bright and glared at the mob.
‘Surely will revenge on you. There WILL be one day you repent your sins…’ Jim firmly determined.
“Hey, nigger! Why did you clean my drawings off? You didn’t like that, huh? Come out there after the school.” Chris seized Jim by the collar and said in a commanding tone as usual. The place called there was known only to the gangs and Jim; used to ail and beat him (they called educating him). The place was actually a school waste disposal site where normally nobody visits unless the entire students do the school cleaning.
‘What are they cruel to me for?’ Jim wondered…But for a second, Jim thought he had stood to the best of his capacity. Suddenly, the bell had rung which means finally, the time has come for them; time to meet at the place. Jim was afraid, but what could he do? “See you later, son of a whore!” said Chris in a sarcastic voice. When he called his mother “a whore”, Jim was very furious. “My mother is not a whore!” Jim wanted to say this, but he couldn’t. ‘America freed us, but why? Why should I be teased for?’ He questioned himself and he received no reply. All he could do was to clench his fist. On his way to meet Chris, he passed a specially designed cooking class. There were 8 small real kitchens including real cooking stuffs in the classroom. Anyway, for some reason, the class was open with lights on. Jim thought.. and he went into the class… He saw a kitchen knife being at a wrong place. He grabbed it. Then Jim decided to put it in the right place, but he took it with him at the end and kept walking towards there. He’s hidden the knife on his back inside of his clothes, so no one could see that. Who can imagine such a black student is carrying a kitchen knife in his body and search for his mates?
Jim arrived there, but only cold wind was welcoming him. “Akkk!!” Suddenly, somebody hit Jim’s calf with a thick wood stick. He fell forward and looked back to see who. As was expected, that was Chris. When Jim was about to stand up, Chris punched his face several times. “Hey, you, son of a whore, your mum is a whore, right? Your mum gets a lot of money, huh? You rich? Nah, who wants to sleep with your fucking negro? Haha”. The followers were standing behind of Chris and laughing with their arms folded. He stood up staring at him (for the first time), because he couldn’t control anger. “My mother is not a whore!” shouted Jim. Jim finally got into a rage and flew out at him. Jim has been forgetting everything they had done to him, but how could he forget this? Of course, the gangs were stuck dumb with surprise, because they’ve never expected or even thought about this situation and when Chris was about strike his fist on Jim’s face, Jim took out the knife, then the knife stabbed Chris. Then the followers ran away.
*******************
Jim realized that things will become too different from now on. ‘This is it. Now everything is over. No one would tease me anymore. I am brave.. I am brave..’ And he walked to home with vacant face. Yolanda was at home sewing her old cloth. She looked tired and sad, but welcomed him with a forced smile. “Hi, son, how was your school today?” She must have wanted “yes” answer, but she looked at his vacant face instead and sensed something was wrong. “What happened, Jim? What happened?” Yolanda had an uneasy look and asked. Jim answered quietly. “I killed Chris.” Yolanda couldn’t believe her ears, but her eyes were admitting the fact. ‘Tell me it’s a joking.’ Her words were just whirling around her mouth. The news was too shock to her that for a while she remained stupefied. How could he? How could he have done that? Finally Jim hardly opened his mouth. “Mum, I am sorry, but it couldn’t be helped. I am sorry.” Yolanda kept looking at him imploring on his bended knees.
She still couldn’t believe (just hoped she is dreaming), but she thought if it is true, they should pack up and leave the house as soon as possible, and somehow, she suddenly strongly sensed that they should leave now. So Yolanda stood up and started to pack up things into a big bag. “Pack up your stuff! We should leave now!” shouted at Jim in the room. Jim was weeping quietly still but stood up shutting his mouth tight and went into the room and started packing. “Pack up important things now. We won’t come back again.” Her voice was urgent and trembled like an aspen leaf and their hands were quick but trembling with fear. They didn’t speak but there was only one thing they knew; should go away far by all means as quickly as possible, otherwise will die.
After they packed up everything, they went to the nearest train station. It seemed nobody recognized them yet. While they were waiting for the next train, they both felt the time was the slowest in their life. But, there was something Yolanda forgot to bring; the something she cannot go without; something precious to her. “Jim, go wherever far from here, doesn’t matter where, but far far away from here. You understand?” said she quietly reading others’ faces. She grabbed his both upper arms tightly and stared at his trembling eyes to make sure he answers it. “I’ve forgot something at home so I will go home now and will definitely come back here to get on the train. So you go first, I will find you wherever you are. You understand? You promise me to get on the train.” Yolanda said quietly but in a commanding tone and Jim’s crying face thinly nodded.
He needed mother and didn’t want to be alone. “I love you, son.” Her thin voice was tremulous. He became alone again, just like when he was on his way home after the un-returnable behavior. Then the next train was coming over uttering a piercing shriek.
**************
People were passing me as normal and everything seemed fine so far. ‘They must have not recognized me yet’, I took a deep breath and thought. When I saw my house from far, it seemed nobody was hanging around there. So I ran to the house and took my ring. That ring was given by my mother and she gave me when she was dying. This is only one she left for me and the rest of her relics; must have burnt by somebody I don’t know. Then, I got out of the house, and my mind has gone white all of a sudden. I really hoped I become an insane person so remembers nothing.
“Are you Mrs. Rogers?” the policeman asked. “Yes..” My voice seemed the smallest at that time in my life. “Where is your son?” his flawless police suit were enough to menace me. “I don’t know” I replied and turned my head strongly so he doesn’t sense anything. “You should go with me, Mrs. Rogers.” He said handcuffing my both hands. While I was being taken by the police, I saw my friend Tom looking at me with surprise. ‘I’m sorry, Tom’, I gave him a significant look. Then I imagined my son Jim going away by train. He must have being on the train now.. He should have. My seized hands were trembling and the handcuff was so cold enough to double my fear. While I was shivering, the car stopped which might mean that my life will be end here. I have been living for my son, I have been working for my son. And now, I am dying for my son. What a happy woman I am!
I sat on a cold chair. The police station was quite noisy but there was a faint suggestion of cruelty in the air. “Now! Tell me where your son is. Then I will free you.” The policeman said threateningly. “I truly don’t know.” I said. He hardened his face and asked clearly again. “Now, you know your damn son killed a person who is very important. How cocky guy, isn’t he? So, I need to know where he is. If you don’t tell, you won’t survive.” He explained slowly but carried weight. “Sir, I don’t know. I really don’t know. Please just kill me. He has done nothing wrong. It’s to do with my wrong upbringing. Please.. please kill me. He has done nothing wrong.” I worn a tearful face and spoke out of my heart kneeling down and I implored him frantically. “Please kill me.” I don’t know how many times I repeated these words. Then, an upset looking man came up to me and seized me by the collar at once and said in an angry voice, “Listen carefully. Your fucking son killed my cousin. I will find him anyhow and kill him. And, I will kill you too.” And he stood up. He said something to other policemen, and I got into a jail, without letting me know how long I would be seized.
Two week after.
Outside became dark, like my life. In here, they provided only a piece of bread for meal, and two glasses of water for one day. But I didn’t mind it, because only Jim was in my head all day long. And I didn’t know how, but my Korean friend Tom was working here watching my movements. I was happy as long as I can see my friend’s face before I die. One day, I was lying down on the floor thinking about Jim. I awoke until mid-night. But suddenly, my iron-barred window started to shake. I tried to hide in a corner at least thinking who the person would be and hoped it’s not Jim.
The iron-bars started to be broken one by one slowly and quietly, and I was nervous when each iron-bar was come off. But thankfully, it was my Korean friend Tom so I didn’t surprise anymore, and I got out of the small, dark and stuffy room hardly with his help and we started run in the dark. We ran until dawn; the hardest thing was to endure my breath so I couldn’t even say thank you to him. My Korean friend Tom was one of my good friends. He was very brave because he came to America by himself, but it would have been better if he had a family. He was a worker on our farm, but he was kicked out for something I don’t know, so he is looking for a job which was also a very hard thing in our deprived society and has no home or food at the moment. But how good was this? I was able to find my son now. Food and home weren’t important to me at all. Sometimes we searched some eatable thing in rubbish bags and sleep in piles of rubbish bags which was warm though. And we started to follow the train rail to search Jim.
3 weeks before
“Jim, go wherever far from here, doesn’t matter where, but far far away from here. You understand?” Mum said quietly. “I will definitely come back here to get on the train. So you go first, I will find you wherever you are. You understand? You promise me to get on the train.” She said. So I nodded. Then she left me alone and the next train stopped by me soon and the door was open. I looked back but nothing was there, but some rowdy white people. I got on the train, but my brain kept saying no, so I got off the train soon after. Then the door of the train closed and left me. I thought.. and I thought again.. How can mum find me when I go away? I looked down the floor and thought aloud, ‘the floor is as black as me..’ Suddenly a small round stone rolled towards my right foot. “Oh!” I grabbed the stone and wrote something just under the chair I was sitting on like this. “TNS” It wasn’t big sign but was recognizable. TNS stands for State of Tennessee, and I hoped my mum could recognize my sign. After about 10 minutes, another one came by me and I left my village the State of Mississippi. And after leaving my mother there, I started working on a ranch waiting for my mother to come and take me away. But it has been 3 weeks already, but she didn’t come. I sensed something is wrong with her, so I took a train going to Mississippi and arrived when night falls. Under cover of night, I walked towards my friend Huck’s home. The streets were the same and everything was the same as before; it was only me changed.
“Oh, my god! Jim! Come on in.” Huck welcomed me, which was lucky I thought (actually I was worrying because he could have kicked me out because I was a murderer).
“Oh, my god. Jim! You got so much lean. Did you have dinner or something?” Huck asked with surprise. “Do you know where my mum is, Huck?” I got into a straight question. “Oh… I am so sorry to tell you, but your mum was arrested by the police.” Huck’s voice was shivering. “When was it? How? So where is she?” My voice was loud, I couldn’t control my mind and was close to explode my anger. Then Huck said in a calm voice, “I don’t know exactly when, but few weeks ago. I heard from others, but people said your mum is going to die… That’s all I know.. Sorry, Jim.” I had my heart break, so couldn’t even say something anymore, just shedding tears.
Then I decided to go to the police office to take out my mother who was suffering and dying because of me and to confess truly what I have done. At dawn, I came out of the house and walked.. The streets were littered with white papers. I was terribly conscience-stricken on my mother having to be considered as a guilty man and die instead of me, and regretting having done such a thing, and stepped on the white papers with no idea. A white man passing Jim picked up one of the littered paper and said. “looking for Yolanda and an Asian man? Hmm.. I don’t understand why they’re wasting time on finding them. These wretched creatures must have been killed!”.
Jim entered the police office and everybody recognized him, and especially one policeman came to him and grabbed his throat. “I am the one killed Chris. Please free my mother and kill me instead.” The policeman’s eyes were trembling with rage and he was biting his lip in frustration. “How dare you kill my cousin? You are so brave, aren’t you, boy? Of course we will kill you, as well as your mother. No more talk is need.” Then I was kept in a jail. But I did not fear at all, but just believed my mother is here too, so hoped to see her one day.
*************
“Look at this, Yolanda, a negro is put to death by hanging? This is open to public near the Mississippi river.” “Jim!!” Yolanda shouted and they looked each other’s eyes. “No, no no. this can’t be. This can’t be. We gotta go there now!” Yolanda’s thin face became pale, and they both ran like crazy to the hanging place. At there, a big and dark gallows was standing and a lot of people were already there probably to enjoy someone’s death. Between the big and high gallows wood pillars, there was a black boy who was small and as thin as a stick. “Jim!!” Yolanda shouted at Jim but he couldn’t hear it as the place was very noisy because of people swearing and throwing stones at him. He looked very exhausted so was faltering instead of standing properly.
“Jim! Jim!” Yolanda was crying and kept yelling like crazy at him, and tried to go further towards him, but nobody didn’t let her do so. Then, a thick rope rolled around Jim’s neck and Jim raised his head and looked at the crowd looking at him. Then he saw a woman stamping her feet on the ground and shouting. ‘Mum…’ he smiled. Then the rope pulled up his head and his eyes had closed. Yolanda became rigid for a while and she pierced her chest with a small knife and her eyes closed too.
Friday, October 3, 2008
Brief1_Re-Write_By YUNA LEE
It's a re-write of 'Haroun and the Sea of Stories' by S. Rushdie.
It's totally different from my proposal that I submitted. I'm sorry but had to change it.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
‘Tick… Tick… Tick…’
A clock was ticking – it was loud enough to fill the house and break quietness in the house.
A lady on a dining table in a kitchen looked at the clock on the wall, then a pile of stinky dishes in a kitchen sink. But, soon after, she turned her head back where it was. There was a steam rising from a cup of hot tea in front of her. She raised her hand, put it over the steam to grab it and opened her hand to see whether there was any steam she caught. She grinned at it when she realized there was no steam but only dampness left. Then, she slowly sipped a tea.
That was all which moved and sounded. And it was nice, warm, and quiet.
But it always interrupted by neighbors: Roxanna was out in her garden, tied her hair back with a ribbon, and was stretching her legs to join a walking group; girls in fancy clothes – bright colors, short and small fits – were giggling at the bus stop with books on their hands; Autena, who got a new perm and dyed hair, was reversing her car to go to work.
She stood up and walked towards the kitchen window – not to say hello to them but to do the dishes. She just washed up dishes and mugs and put it back on the shelf. She zipped her lips tightly, did not even made a humming sound – was that because there was no one to talk to or did she lose her voice?
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
When she was preparing a dinner, the phone rang.
“Hello.”
“Hi honey. Get dressed – I’ll be there in 30 minutes. You need to accompany me to a dinner with publisher tonight. Ok? I’ll see you then. Love you!”
“But… dear, hello? Hello?”
About 30 minutes later, “Honey I’m home. Are you ready? Parsa, you too. I’ll drop you off at your uncle’s home.”
“Dear he told me he wanted to go to his friend’s home to stay overnight.”
“Don’t worry – I’ll talk to him. I don’t want him to stay outside till late. You look nice. I’m sorry for the late call – I’m sure you understand it. The work is always like this. Anyway where is your headscarf? That ruby-red headscarf looked good on you, my dear.”
“I… ok. Just a minute.”
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
After the dinner, she felt tired so leaned her head backward and closed eyes.
“The food was nice, huh? Let’s take Parsa next time. (He looked at her closing her eyes.) You were bored, weren’t you? It’s lucky that you don’t know about the business. It’s always complicated – more than just a story”
“No, I had fun. I just feel a bit tired – that’s all.”
She did not like food – actually the smell, a strong smell of herb. But she did not mention it to him.
“I know what you mean… I understand.”
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
One day, everyone was at home – her husband was working on his new book in a study room, her son was watching a TV in living room and she was making a fruit and vege juice.
“Here”
“Thanks mum.”
She did not look good – was slightly coughing with wheeze, but Parsa did not notice it.
“Have some honey.”
“Thanks, my dear. (She coughed.) Did you catch a cold? Go and see the doctor before it gets worse.”
“Na. I’m almost recovered now. Asthma makes me sound like it when I breathe.”
He noticed that she was unwell but did not know she had a nasty cough for the last few days.
“I’m sorry honey. The doctor must have got a good medicine for you to get better soon like this. Go and get some rest. I’ll go out and get some take-away for dinner.”
“That’s ok. I feel much better now – I’m fine.”
“No more words. I’ll organize the dinner, so leave it on to me and go to bed. I’ll be with you in a minute.”
He did as he said – he got a combo of hamburgers. Parsa came to her and gave a kiss on her cheek before he went to the bed.
They both loved to hear her singing – but it looks like they do not realize that she has been stopped singing – even herself.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Her husband is a nice, gentle, and intelligent man.
He writes books – he is a famous book writer - and quite often invited to deliver a speech at the national convention or to give the after-dinner speech.
When he works on his book, the house has to be quiet – because he is becoming very sensitive and nervous. And she needs check him up regularly whether he needs anything to drink or eat – it can be a day or a night.
When he is not, he talks to her all the time. There is nothing that he hides from her – tells her everything and share everything he knows or thinks with her. But sometimes, just sometimes, she stares blankly into space, not knowing what he is saying.
One night, they had a cup of tea on deck. “My story is about……. (He is talking about his book and, then, realizes that she is not concentrating.) Hey, are you listening? Honey? (She recovers her consciousness and makes an eye-contact with him.) Well anyway it’s …. (He keeps talking.)”
She loves his kindness; his creative imaginations; and his job. She feels safe in his boundary and he is funny enough to entertain her and to fulfill her life with happiness. He is very mature for his age and knows everything – so there is nothing she needs to do or know particularly. She just needs to be a mum and a wife in this family – in this house.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Tick… Tick… Tick…’
A clock was ticking and it was loud as usual.
She was sipping her tea on the dining table and staring at a steam rising from a cup.
But when she looked at the window, mails on a mailbox got caught her eyes.
She got up and walked towards the door, not to those stinky dishes in a sink.
She grabbed her headscarf and put it on the chair.
Trees and flowers’ sweet smells tickled her nose and her hair gently waved in a spring breeze –a light and pleasant wind cooled her face. And the sunshine warmed her body immediately. She closed her eyes and had a deep breathe.
When she was approaching to a mailbox, she could hear what girls at the bus stop was giggling about – it was about boys and an on-coming party on Saturday; Roxanna in a pair of trousers gave a big wave to her to say hello; and Autena stopped her car to work to have a short chat with her and asked her to come over to her place for a cup of tea later.
She came back home and sat on the dining table – had a last sip of a tea in a cup. She might not recognize this but she was smiling.
She stretched her arms to push the doorbell but the door was open then - Autena’s husband came out.
“Oh hi – how are you? I heard you’re coming from Autena. Autena honey, your friend is here! (He looked at her again.) Have a nice time then. And say hello to Navid for me.”
“Honey, don’t forget to get a milk and a bread later,” Autena shouted from the inside and her husband replied back.
“Yeap,” then he left.
“Bye” she said to him and went to inside of the house.
She had a coffee and I had a cup of tea with freshly baked cookies and muffins.
She talked about ‘her’ holiday plan- a trip to Germany and England where her younger sister lives. Her perm and dyed long hair fell loosely to her chest and a diamond necklace was sparkling. She lit a cigarette and a cigarette smoke blurred the boundary between her and me.
‘Who am I? What’s my name? Naia yes – but why there is no one call me, Naia - my name. When will I be free? After Parsa graduate the University or when he gets married or after my husband retires or… Hang on, should I keep listen to him – listen to his stories? Where am I anyway?’
She felt dizziness – so lied on a table and nestled her face against her arms.
“You won’t believe who I met today at the pub. After work… oh before saying it, I’ve decide the end of my story dear. It’s gonna be…”
He started talking again as soon as he got home after the work. His moth-engine was turned on as he opened the door
“Honey, can I stop you for a moment? I’ve got something to tell you.”
“What... Why? I mean… what is it, honey. What’s wrong?”
Now he looked at me – found where I stood and what I was doing.
“I need a holiday.”
“Pardon?”
“I need a holiday - like you and Parsa; like everybody. I’ve been sacrificed myself for you, family and this house. And I’ll be – I have to be for another what 10, 20years. I can’t go on like this. I don’t want to.”
He interrupted her. “Honey. Sweetheart. I understand. Of course you must get tired of this. It’s the most tough job in the world… you know to be a mum and a wife. And you know that we all respect that. What can we do without you? Honey you’ll feel better if you go for a shopping tomorrow. I’ll take you – let’s get some new headscarves and…”
“No, you don’t understand me. My name is Naia and I know what I want. There is no Naia in my life anymore. Everyone has their own work to do, but not me. Everyone is living their life, but not me. You are just like a talking-bird – it doesn’t matter what I’ve been doing during the day or what I’m saying to you. I can’t even remember whether I opened my mouth and split the words out at least once a day or not.”
“Ok, stop. Let me think…”
“No. you don’t get it. I want to work too – get paid for my labor. I want to learn something – anything. I want to enjoy the life… I want my mouth to speak and to sing.”
“I guess my stories blurred the distinction between reality and fantasy to you. It is how ordinary woman should be - it’s what you do for a living. Why you need to be educated or work? I work and my salary support this family financially so you don’t need to. And what you do is the housework – then what the education is for? However it’s not worth it to start it now – you’re old; you’re a mother of teenager who will be an adult soon. And …”
He kept talking and she went to blank again.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Tick… Tick… Tick…’
A clock was ticking loudly in a kitchen – in a house. A pile of stinky dishes was sitting in a sink.
But there was no one at home – no Naia on the dining table with her favorite tea.
When she got to the airport, there was Kyran, a neighbor. They recognized faces each other but did not talk. Because she knows that he does not like her husband – she thought that must be because of his talkative wife.
They got on the same flight to the same place and sat beside each other in a plane – it all happened by accident.
“So… Philippine? Huh?”
“Yes…”
“Have you…”
“No. it’s the first time.”
“Ah…I see.”
They both bended down their hand and looked at their hands – her fingers were making a ring and his fingers rolling a pencil.
“I thought you always wear headscarf on your head.”
She put her hand on a top of her head and said, “oh well…”
“ No no. I’m just saying it. You’ve got a nice brown hair – looks nice.”
She combed her hair with her fingers and they smiled at each other.
She got a small studio in downtown, Manila. She traveled for the first few days – there were no difficulties as many people could speak English. She studied Filipino at the school during the day and worked at the music store at night – where she can listen to all sort of music.
She started to sing and humming again.
Once a week, she went to learn a computer at the community centre. After the class, she was hanging out with classmates to a karaoke or a pub. There were many housewives in a class: they all have their jobs; they spend their salaries for their own shopping; husbands do the housework; and nannies look after their children.
They were like a symbol of the freedom to her – what she dreamed about. And she became one of them. Except when she woke up in the middle of night and looked for Parsa, “He was here – call my name.” And except when she missed that a gentle breeze and a warm sunshine. And except when she felt too quietness in a room and realize there was no one who talked to her.
Few months later, she found his husband new book in a bookshop.
“Is it? How weird is it? It’s not the one that he worked – I never seen this one before.”
But she was sure that was his book. So she took it to the counter and paid for it.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Naia was sitting on a plane to back home. She closed her eyes, leaned her head back, listened music and was humming.
Her husband’s new book was on her leg – she held it with her hands and tapping with her fingers as the music flew.
She could find the key easily. When she opened the door, everything was there as they were. The clock was ticking – very loudly and her headscarf was on the chair.
She made a cup of tea and sat on the dining table.
‘Tick… Tick… Tick…’
When she looked at the kitchen sink, she smiled. It was not because a pile of stinky dishes was gone. She smiled because she saw Parsa and her husband were running at home with a big smile on their faces. She raised her hands and gave a big wave – to tell she is here at home.
The book was about a woman who is beautiful, smart and generous. Her family love her so much but they have forgotten to show it to her - did not know how to express love towards her, respect for her, and appreciations for all sacrifices she makes. So that woman ran away from the family. Even thought, the family was not angry at her, did not bitterly resent her act or hated her for this. But they showed penitence for their mistakes and missed her; wanted her to come back home – where she belonged, where she needed, and where she wanted to be the most.
In the end, that woman came back home and they all lived happily ever after.
And just for a tip, in a story, the key was under the entrance mat. That is where Naia found her key.
It's totally different from my proposal that I submitted. I'm sorry but had to change it.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
‘Tick… Tick… Tick…’
A clock was ticking – it was loud enough to fill the house and break quietness in the house.
A lady on a dining table in a kitchen looked at the clock on the wall, then a pile of stinky dishes in a kitchen sink. But, soon after, she turned her head back where it was. There was a steam rising from a cup of hot tea in front of her. She raised her hand, put it over the steam to grab it and opened her hand to see whether there was any steam she caught. She grinned at it when she realized there was no steam but only dampness left. Then, she slowly sipped a tea.
That was all which moved and sounded. And it was nice, warm, and quiet.
But it always interrupted by neighbors: Roxanna was out in her garden, tied her hair back with a ribbon, and was stretching her legs to join a walking group; girls in fancy clothes – bright colors, short and small fits – were giggling at the bus stop with books on their hands; Autena, who got a new perm and dyed hair, was reversing her car to go to work.
She stood up and walked towards the kitchen window – not to say hello to them but to do the dishes. She just washed up dishes and mugs and put it back on the shelf. She zipped her lips tightly, did not even made a humming sound – was that because there was no one to talk to or did she lose her voice?
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
When she was preparing a dinner, the phone rang.
“Hello.”
“Hi honey. Get dressed – I’ll be there in 30 minutes. You need to accompany me to a dinner with publisher tonight. Ok? I’ll see you then. Love you!”
“But… dear, hello? Hello?”
About 30 minutes later, “Honey I’m home. Are you ready? Parsa, you too. I’ll drop you off at your uncle’s home.”
“Dear he told me he wanted to go to his friend’s home to stay overnight.”
“Don’t worry – I’ll talk to him. I don’t want him to stay outside till late. You look nice. I’m sorry for the late call – I’m sure you understand it. The work is always like this. Anyway where is your headscarf? That ruby-red headscarf looked good on you, my dear.”
“I… ok. Just a minute.”
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
After the dinner, she felt tired so leaned her head backward and closed eyes.
“The food was nice, huh? Let’s take Parsa next time. (He looked at her closing her eyes.) You were bored, weren’t you? It’s lucky that you don’t know about the business. It’s always complicated – more than just a story”
“No, I had fun. I just feel a bit tired – that’s all.”
She did not like food – actually the smell, a strong smell of herb. But she did not mention it to him.
“I know what you mean… I understand.”
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
One day, everyone was at home – her husband was working on his new book in a study room, her son was watching a TV in living room and she was making a fruit and vege juice.
“Here”
“Thanks mum.”
She did not look good – was slightly coughing with wheeze, but Parsa did not notice it.
“Have some honey.”
“Thanks, my dear. (She coughed.) Did you catch a cold? Go and see the doctor before it gets worse.”
“Na. I’m almost recovered now. Asthma makes me sound like it when I breathe.”
He noticed that she was unwell but did not know she had a nasty cough for the last few days.
“I’m sorry honey. The doctor must have got a good medicine for you to get better soon like this. Go and get some rest. I’ll go out and get some take-away for dinner.”
“That’s ok. I feel much better now – I’m fine.”
“No more words. I’ll organize the dinner, so leave it on to me and go to bed. I’ll be with you in a minute.”
He did as he said – he got a combo of hamburgers. Parsa came to her and gave a kiss on her cheek before he went to the bed.
They both loved to hear her singing – but it looks like they do not realize that she has been stopped singing – even herself.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Her husband is a nice, gentle, and intelligent man.
He writes books – he is a famous book writer - and quite often invited to deliver a speech at the national convention or to give the after-dinner speech.
When he works on his book, the house has to be quiet – because he is becoming very sensitive and nervous. And she needs check him up regularly whether he needs anything to drink or eat – it can be a day or a night.
When he is not, he talks to her all the time. There is nothing that he hides from her – tells her everything and share everything he knows or thinks with her. But sometimes, just sometimes, she stares blankly into space, not knowing what he is saying.
One night, they had a cup of tea on deck. “My story is about……. (He is talking about his book and, then, realizes that she is not concentrating.) Hey, are you listening? Honey? (She recovers her consciousness and makes an eye-contact with him.) Well anyway it’s …. (He keeps talking.)”
She loves his kindness; his creative imaginations; and his job. She feels safe in his boundary and he is funny enough to entertain her and to fulfill her life with happiness. He is very mature for his age and knows everything – so there is nothing she needs to do or know particularly. She just needs to be a mum and a wife in this family – in this house.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Tick… Tick… Tick…’
A clock was ticking and it was loud as usual.
She was sipping her tea on the dining table and staring at a steam rising from a cup.
But when she looked at the window, mails on a mailbox got caught her eyes.
She got up and walked towards the door, not to those stinky dishes in a sink.
She grabbed her headscarf and put it on the chair.
Trees and flowers’ sweet smells tickled her nose and her hair gently waved in a spring breeze –a light and pleasant wind cooled her face. And the sunshine warmed her body immediately. She closed her eyes and had a deep breathe.
When she was approaching to a mailbox, she could hear what girls at the bus stop was giggling about – it was about boys and an on-coming party on Saturday; Roxanna in a pair of trousers gave a big wave to her to say hello; and Autena stopped her car to work to have a short chat with her and asked her to come over to her place for a cup of tea later.
She came back home and sat on the dining table – had a last sip of a tea in a cup. She might not recognize this but she was smiling.
She stretched her arms to push the doorbell but the door was open then - Autena’s husband came out.
“Oh hi – how are you? I heard you’re coming from Autena. Autena honey, your friend is here! (He looked at her again.) Have a nice time then. And say hello to Navid for me.”
“Honey, don’t forget to get a milk and a bread later,” Autena shouted from the inside and her husband replied back.
“Yeap,” then he left.
“Bye” she said to him and went to inside of the house.
She had a coffee and I had a cup of tea with freshly baked cookies and muffins.
She talked about ‘her’ holiday plan- a trip to Germany and England where her younger sister lives. Her perm and dyed long hair fell loosely to her chest and a diamond necklace was sparkling. She lit a cigarette and a cigarette smoke blurred the boundary between her and me.
‘Who am I? What’s my name? Naia yes – but why there is no one call me, Naia - my name. When will I be free? After Parsa graduate the University or when he gets married or after my husband retires or… Hang on, should I keep listen to him – listen to his stories? Where am I anyway?’
She felt dizziness – so lied on a table and nestled her face against her arms.
“You won’t believe who I met today at the pub. After work… oh before saying it, I’ve decide the end of my story dear. It’s gonna be…”
He started talking again as soon as he got home after the work. His moth-engine was turned on as he opened the door
“Honey, can I stop you for a moment? I’ve got something to tell you.”
“What... Why? I mean… what is it, honey. What’s wrong?”
Now he looked at me – found where I stood and what I was doing.
“I need a holiday.”
“Pardon?”
“I need a holiday - like you and Parsa; like everybody. I’ve been sacrificed myself for you, family and this house. And I’ll be – I have to be for another what 10, 20years. I can’t go on like this. I don’t want to.”
He interrupted her. “Honey. Sweetheart. I understand. Of course you must get tired of this. It’s the most tough job in the world… you know to be a mum and a wife. And you know that we all respect that. What can we do without you? Honey you’ll feel better if you go for a shopping tomorrow. I’ll take you – let’s get some new headscarves and…”
“No, you don’t understand me. My name is Naia and I know what I want. There is no Naia in my life anymore. Everyone has their own work to do, but not me. Everyone is living their life, but not me. You are just like a talking-bird – it doesn’t matter what I’ve been doing during the day or what I’m saying to you. I can’t even remember whether I opened my mouth and split the words out at least once a day or not.”
“Ok, stop. Let me think…”
“No. you don’t get it. I want to work too – get paid for my labor. I want to learn something – anything. I want to enjoy the life… I want my mouth to speak and to sing.”
“I guess my stories blurred the distinction between reality and fantasy to you. It is how ordinary woman should be - it’s what you do for a living. Why you need to be educated or work? I work and my salary support this family financially so you don’t need to. And what you do is the housework – then what the education is for? However it’s not worth it to start it now – you’re old; you’re a mother of teenager who will be an adult soon. And …”
He kept talking and she went to blank again.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Tick… Tick… Tick…’
A clock was ticking loudly in a kitchen – in a house. A pile of stinky dishes was sitting in a sink.
But there was no one at home – no Naia on the dining table with her favorite tea.
When she got to the airport, there was Kyran, a neighbor. They recognized faces each other but did not talk. Because she knows that he does not like her husband – she thought that must be because of his talkative wife.
They got on the same flight to the same place and sat beside each other in a plane – it all happened by accident.
“So… Philippine? Huh?”
“Yes…”
“Have you…”
“No. it’s the first time.”
“Ah…I see.”
They both bended down their hand and looked at their hands – her fingers were making a ring and his fingers rolling a pencil.
“I thought you always wear headscarf on your head.”
She put her hand on a top of her head and said, “oh well…”
“ No no. I’m just saying it. You’ve got a nice brown hair – looks nice.”
She combed her hair with her fingers and they smiled at each other.
She got a small studio in downtown, Manila. She traveled for the first few days – there were no difficulties as many people could speak English. She studied Filipino at the school during the day and worked at the music store at night – where she can listen to all sort of music.
She started to sing and humming again.
Once a week, she went to learn a computer at the community centre. After the class, she was hanging out with classmates to a karaoke or a pub. There were many housewives in a class: they all have their jobs; they spend their salaries for their own shopping; husbands do the housework; and nannies look after their children.
They were like a symbol of the freedom to her – what she dreamed about. And she became one of them. Except when she woke up in the middle of night and looked for Parsa, “He was here – call my name.” And except when she missed that a gentle breeze and a warm sunshine. And except when she felt too quietness in a room and realize there was no one who talked to her.
Few months later, she found his husband new book in a bookshop.
“Is it? How weird is it? It’s not the one that he worked – I never seen this one before.”
But she was sure that was his book. So she took it to the counter and paid for it.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Naia was sitting on a plane to back home. She closed her eyes, leaned her head back, listened music and was humming.
Her husband’s new book was on her leg – she held it with her hands and tapping with her fingers as the music flew.
She could find the key easily. When she opened the door, everything was there as they were. The clock was ticking – very loudly and her headscarf was on the chair.
She made a cup of tea and sat on the dining table.
‘Tick… Tick… Tick…’
When she looked at the kitchen sink, she smiled. It was not because a pile of stinky dishes was gone. She smiled because she saw Parsa and her husband were running at home with a big smile on their faces. She raised her hands and gave a big wave – to tell she is here at home.
The book was about a woman who is beautiful, smart and generous. Her family love her so much but they have forgotten to show it to her - did not know how to express love towards her, respect for her, and appreciations for all sacrifices she makes. So that woman ran away from the family. Even thought, the family was not angry at her, did not bitterly resent her act or hated her for this. But they showed penitence for their mistakes and missed her; wanted her to come back home – where she belonged, where she needed, and where she wanted to be the most.
In the end, that woman came back home and they all lived happily ever after.
And just for a tip, in a story, the key was under the entrance mat. That is where Naia found her key.
Machuca: The sequel
Summary
In 1988, fifteen years later after the incident of Silvana’s death Gonzalo has just finished his university degree in business and gets the possibility to enter into the company of a friend of his mother. Pedro’s alcoholic father prophecy of his assured future welfare thanks to the social and political Status Quo is becoming a reality. During the days of the coup his father was working in Rome and begged to join him there but his mum preferred to stay with her rich and older lover, Roberto and he decided to stay in Italy and never return. She is now a widow and has inherited the fortune of Roberto. On the other side of the city, Pedro lives with his mum and her sister in a poor suburb of Santiago. After Silvana’s death his father quit drinking but one day returning from home he was run over by a bus. They both work hard to keep the family going while his younger sister attends secondary school but he is also compromised with the struggle of his people and as an amateur photo journalist he denounces the social and political reality; a very risky business during those days of dictatorship.
One day the caprices of faith brought Pedro and Gonzalo together. Since the episode that ended with Silvana’s death they never met. Their worlds were so different that it was almost impossible to bump into each other. A political demonstration for the coming plebiscite in which the two factions, those who will vote YES if they want the military regime to continue and those who oppose to that voting NO will bring them face to face in an antagonist scenario. Pedro while taking photos of some paramilitary YES supporters beating and slashing a member of a heavy metal tribe who dared to joke of their political choice gets a pointy knife on his throat from a secret police who asked for the film. Gonzalo is a witness of the whole scene.
Re-Write of the movie Machuca
The Sequel
When Gonzalo entered into the store room he saw the old bicycle dying at a corner as a silent witness of yesteryear. He could not avoid a picture seizing his brain; the image of Pedro taking him at the back of that same bicycle through the dirt football field into what was for him a completely new and unknown world. Pedro’s world was so different to his. The whole expierence of meeting Pedro and Silvana during his early adolescence left profound traces in his memory and his soul and those traces appeared from time to time, as ghosts of the past bringing the torment of Silvana’s tragic death that could have been avoided.
That happened long ago, fifteen or sixteen years back and although he did not do anything wrong but saving his life, he felt guilty that there was one moment in which he had to draw a line that separated him from his friends and their family to survive. Maybe there was nothing wrong with that but having had to appeal to his European look and the good clothes that he was wearing to achieve his salvation made him feel deeply ashamed; still today.
When Gonzalo entered into the store room he saw the old bicycle dying at a corner as a silent witness of yesteryear. He could not avoid a picture seizing his brain; the image of Pedro taking him at the back of that same bicycle through the dirt football field into what was for him a completely new and unknown world. Pedro’s world was so different to his. The whole expierence of meeting Pedro and Silvana during his early adolescence left profound traces in his memory and his soul and those traces appeared from time to time, as ghosts of the past bringing the torment of Silvana’s tragic death that could have been avoided.
That happened long ago, fifteen or sixteen years back and although he did not do anything wrong but saving his life, he felt guilty that there was one moment in which he had to draw a line that separated him from his friends and their family to survive. Maybe there was nothing wrong with that but having had to appeal to his European look and the good clothes that he was wearing to achieve his salvation made him feel deeply ashamed; still today.
The telephone ringing in the living room brought him back and interrupted his yearly rite of searching for his skies. It was the beginning of the skiing season and he would go to the neighboring ski resorts for the weekend. He rushed to get the phone before it stopped ringing but when he got there the answer machine was already delivering his message and he could not resist the temptation of listening who was calling and then decide if pick up the phone or let the machine to take the message.
- Gonzalito, How are you my darling. It’s mum. I spoke to my dear friend Nicolas Errazuriz the one I told you and he said he would be happy to consider you for a position at his company. He said that he will like to meet you and have lunch with you. In his company they are looking for someone young and full of talent to be part of the international business team.
- What do you think? Call him as soon as you can because he is a busy person. He will be in his office until two today. Well, my sweetheart maybe you can ring me later and tell me how did it go. Good luck. Bye, my dear son.
- What do you think? Call him as soon as you can because he is a busy person. He will be in his office until two today. Well, my sweetheart maybe you can ring me later and tell me how did it go. Good luck. Bye, my dear son.
Gonzalo had recently finished his business studies at the university and now he was ready to be another piece in the machinery of the neo liberal economy that was implemented in the country after a coup ended the socialist government of the president Salvador Allende who died defending his government when two Hawker Hunters bombed the presidential palace in 1973.Since then a dictatory government ruled the country. At the beginning, radical changes were implemented over the whole nation. Four years of imposed curfew changed people’s habits. The regime changed the economic system and opened the economy to the world but as a result of that, other things arisen. People’s values and the perception of all that was native became depreciated. The overrating of the foreign became the norm. It turn out to be that radios broadcasted music mostly in English and TV showed series from Hollywood that did not reflect the reality of the country but that fed the escapism of people and that was good for the regime. The press manipulated the reality and instead of informing they misinformed. In time, the country grew into polarization among those who supported the dictatorship just because they profited from it and those who could managed to see the reality among so much deception.
When the coup occurred Gonzalo’s father was working in Italy and when he knew about it he told Gonzalo’s mum to sell everything and join him with the family in Rome but then it was too late. The relationship with Luisa, Gonzalo’s mum, was already in a point of no return and she decided to stay and go to live with her rich lover Roberto with whom she seemed to have more affinities. Roberto, as a businessman profited a great deal with all these changes, especially the economic changes that encouraged free market and his prosperity allowed him to provide generously to Luisa, Gonzalo and his sister.
But Gonzalo in spite of his well-being disagreed with the political and social situation. He had still a conscience and he could not fully enjoy this welfare knowing that there were people who were having a hard time day by day and he felt that this was a major divergence with his mum and sister who seemed completely immersed in their own world of abundance. Of course, they were not interested in discovering how other people lived although the evidences of inequality were everywhere outside their bubble. Still, he could not blame them for that and for a moment he doubted if they did not have the joy or the misfortune to discover such a world. Maybe it was better not to have a conscience.
It was Thursday and it was better to try to arrange the job appointment with Mr. Errazuriz for the following day rather than leave it for next week. He rang to his office and everything went so smoothly that he thought that it had been easier than expected. He even didn’t have to talk to him and managed to arrange an appointment only by talking to his secretary. Contacts were very influential and being well connected facilitated the possibility to get an opportunity.
On the other side of the city, Pedro worked in a warehouse of a North American bank were all the cheques and financial documents that needed to be kept were stored. It was a big contradiction for him that in spite of strongly opposing to the imposed capitalist economic system he worked for a bank. At times he felt guilty but later he thought over and he knew that for the time being, the job was perfect for him. He spent most of the time in his small hidden office that was located on the second level at a corner of the big warehouse. From that corner sounds of classical music and dramatic opera often emanated. These sounds were the background curtain for his thoughts. There, he had the freedom to create his own world. He spent most of the time reading “key books” as he liked to call some of the works from Plato, Machiavello, Rousseau, Freud and others. Not to mention the other literature that was considered subversive and was prohibited by the regime like Marx, Lenin and the endless speeches of Castro and Che Guevara.
Every time someone approached his office, he could sense the vibration produced by the steps on the stairs of the metal structure that sustained the whole second level warning and allowing him enough time to hide whatever he was doing in the intimacy of that little office and pretend to work.
That Friday he left the warehouse earlier. In two weeks the plebiscite that would decide the faith of the country was going to take place and there will be political manifestations from both fractions in the streets of the city. Authorities were always struggling to avoid that crows from opposite sides met each other but almost always these manifestations ended in serious incidents among the YES and NO supporters or the No supporters against the repressive forces. the repressive forces never went agaisnt the YES supporters.
Gonzalo’s passion was photographic journalism. He had always been fascinated by the power of images and how could one of them tell more than thousand words. His passion grew spontaneously because at the beginning he was just another opponent in the crow showing his discontent but one day overwhelmed by the amount of images of all kind that his eyes witnessed he decided to start document them by taking pictures. His passion became an obsession and now he was in an tireless search for that single image that would go from one press agency to another all over the world denouncing the repression and social conditions in his beloved country.
When the coup occurred Gonzalo’s father was working in Italy and when he knew about it he told Gonzalo’s mum to sell everything and join him with the family in Rome but then it was too late. The relationship with Luisa, Gonzalo’s mum, was already in a point of no return and she decided to stay and go to live with her rich lover Roberto with whom she seemed to have more affinities. Roberto, as a businessman profited a great deal with all these changes, especially the economic changes that encouraged free market and his prosperity allowed him to provide generously to Luisa, Gonzalo and his sister.
But Gonzalo in spite of his well-being disagreed with the political and social situation. He had still a conscience and he could not fully enjoy this welfare knowing that there were people who were having a hard time day by day and he felt that this was a major divergence with his mum and sister who seemed completely immersed in their own world of abundance. Of course, they were not interested in discovering how other people lived although the evidences of inequality were everywhere outside their bubble. Still, he could not blame them for that and for a moment he doubted if they did not have the joy or the misfortune to discover such a world. Maybe it was better not to have a conscience.
It was Thursday and it was better to try to arrange the job appointment with Mr. Errazuriz for the following day rather than leave it for next week. He rang to his office and everything went so smoothly that he thought that it had been easier than expected. He even didn’t have to talk to him and managed to arrange an appointment only by talking to his secretary. Contacts were very influential and being well connected facilitated the possibility to get an opportunity.
On the other side of the city, Pedro worked in a warehouse of a North American bank were all the cheques and financial documents that needed to be kept were stored. It was a big contradiction for him that in spite of strongly opposing to the imposed capitalist economic system he worked for a bank. At times he felt guilty but later he thought over and he knew that for the time being, the job was perfect for him. He spent most of the time in his small hidden office that was located on the second level at a corner of the big warehouse. From that corner sounds of classical music and dramatic opera often emanated. These sounds were the background curtain for his thoughts. There, he had the freedom to create his own world. He spent most of the time reading “key books” as he liked to call some of the works from Plato, Machiavello, Rousseau, Freud and others. Not to mention the other literature that was considered subversive and was prohibited by the regime like Marx, Lenin and the endless speeches of Castro and Che Guevara.
Every time someone approached his office, he could sense the vibration produced by the steps on the stairs of the metal structure that sustained the whole second level warning and allowing him enough time to hide whatever he was doing in the intimacy of that little office and pretend to work.
That Friday he left the warehouse earlier. In two weeks the plebiscite that would decide the faith of the country was going to take place and there will be political manifestations from both fractions in the streets of the city. Authorities were always struggling to avoid that crows from opposite sides met each other but almost always these manifestations ended in serious incidents among the YES and NO supporters or the No supporters against the repressive forces. the repressive forces never went agaisnt the YES supporters.
Gonzalo’s passion was photographic journalism. He had always been fascinated by the power of images and how could one of them tell more than thousand words. His passion grew spontaneously because at the beginning he was just another opponent in the crow showing his discontent but one day overwhelmed by the amount of images of all kind that his eyes witnessed he decided to start document them by taking pictures. His passion became an obsession and now he was in an tireless search for that single image that would go from one press agency to another all over the world denouncing the repression and social conditions in his beloved country.
He knew it was a risky business but he didn’t seem to fully realized of the level of danger he was exposing himself to.
While he traveled on the bus he noticed the walls of the city papered will posters supporting YES and NO. The whole idea of having only two options seemed so bizarre to him. In a normal situation political posters had pictures of a candidate in whom people could deposit their trust and their dreams but this time it was not the case. He couldn’t avoid thinking on; how ridiculous this dilemma was? Having to choose in between accepting something or not, did not make much sense to him especially after fifteen years of dictatorship. Instead, choosing among several different options seemed much more sensible. That was real democracy. But he held back his anger when he further thought that this was just the first step. A hypothetical victory of the NO option was a preliminary step for regular elections the coming year. So among the two options, the NO represented the hope of the people and Pedro’s hope.
The more the bus approached to the central avenues the more people with flags of the YES seemed to surround the bus. Soon the bus seemed to move so slow that Pedro decided that it was better to continue walking.
The clock marked 13:05.He had 55 minutes to arrive to Mr. Errazuriz company headquarters. Gonzalo was a bit nervous. While driving he thought that it was essential to arrive on time to give a good impression. He knew that in spite of the influences Mr Errazuriz would not take someone who did not have the skills nor the talent for such an important position in the company. Gonzalo like the mayority of the rich and influential people lived at the foot of the Andes in the highest part of the city and from there the city spread eastward.
The office was allocated in Providencia an area that became a sort of symbol of the successful new economic system full of shops and modern buildings with lots of glass not far from Gonzalo’s house. When he reached the traffic light at an intersection of two main avenues a battalion of street vendors approached to the cars offering their products. It wasn’t a new sight for Gonzalo. In fact these hard working people were always there and for some reason that day Gonzalo seemed to be paying special attention to them.
Using his business knowledge he started to examine minutely the whole modus operandi of these hard working people and he thought how after so many years of brutal neo liberalism at gun point even the most humble people in the country had assimilated the principles of business operations in order to survive. They were five of them and most likely all members of a single family that in order to stay alive saw themselves as a partnership. They were there everyday so that corner belonged to them and nobody else could sell there, so the corner became their premises and they all sold different things; so they had product diversity; from newspapers to seasonal fruits. They even incorporated the spirit of the plebiscite by selling flags but there was only one option available in that part of the city; the YES option.
These thoughts intertwined with a memory that brought Gonzalo fifteen years back to evoke the episode in which he together with Pedro and Silvana were selling flags in manifestations of both sides of the political spectrum of that time. He then smiled just like we all do when we remember our child pranks. Suddenly, the green light was there and he had to press the gas pedal and leave his thoughts behind.
As he approached to his destination he noticed that there was a march ahead. He parked his car and started to walk. He did not know about this demonstration, otherwise he would not had come to this area but it was too late to cancel his important appointment. Since the shocking episode that ended with Silvana’s death he avoided any political demonstration. At times he thought on participating on them but it was like a trauma inside of him and he deeply feared them. Unfortunately for him the more he approached to the address of Mr. Errazuriz headquarters the closer he got to the epicenter of the demonstration.
Gonzalo arrived to the meeting point on time. It was almost a rite that before any manifestation all the photographers, national and international correspondents and amateurs photographers got together in order to know who was there. Taking pictures in those circumstances was a very risky business and sometimes photographers disappeared and they were never seen anymore. Those who were most at risk were the amateur photographers like Pedro, who did not represent any important agency or newspaper who could claim and denounce his disappearance to the international public opinion. They were around twenty photographers from which eight were international correspondent. They were easy to spot them because they all wore gas masks and water proof clothing but Pedro relied on sucking a lemon to combat the effect of the tear gas if it was necessary. Along the main avenue there was a huge gathering of supporters of YES marching in a parade. Among the people marching, singing and shouting there were cars and trucks decorated with flags and slogans. These vehicles were crowded with supporters and had loudspeakers that encouraged the people on the side of the avenue to vote YES but the silence and impassiveness of the public implied that they were for the NO. The whole country knew that the only way that the YES could win would be through an electoral fraud but the people was not sure if the regime would dear to commit such fraud considering that the eyes of the whole world were on this plebiscite and there will be international observant that will denounce any irregularity.
Pedro excited moved around looking for his best shots. Gonzalo nervously tried to swim among the sea of people with the only purpose to arrive to Mr. Errazuriz office as soon as possible. The area was a commercial and business area and on a Friday at lunch time was always busy. Just like Gonzalo there were many people who happened to be there and their curiosity incited to remain there and observe. He needed to cross the same avenue where the demonstrators were parading. The only alternative was to cross the avenue through the subway access. A tribe of heavy metal fans who traditionally gather outside a record shop instinctively approached to the avenue to satisfy their inquisitiveness. What kind of people could support the YES?-they wanted to see. The truck that was passing in front of them had a group of suspicious supporters with military haircuts and sunglasses. Anyone with a little bit of sense to smell what is rotten would realized that those were paramilitary members supporting the regime. Soon, the temptation to unmask and make fun of them was too big. They replied instantly with the only way that they knew to make their point heard; with brutal repression and violence. Nobody knew that the truck was full of stones. They bent down, picked the stones up and started to throw them to the heavy metal supporters who were mixed among the public. In a second everything was a chaos. Everybody was searching for a place to take refugee. The heavy metal fans improvised weapons from anything they could find in such urban battle field; paving stones and street post. Other blocked the avenue with huge ornamental street flower pots so the cars could not continue and got trapped. Three of the paramilitaries decided to descend from the truck and followed the most audacious of their enemies who tried to break the glass of the truck on the driver side with a post. He attempted to escape descending at high speed the stairs of the subway station but he felt. Soon, he was surrounded by his pursuers and one of them extracted a curved knife and started to slash him on his upper legs.
Pedro was there and when he saw the man slashing the young guy he started to shoot his camera incessantly until someone took him from behind and he felt a pointy knife in his Adam’s apple.
-The film. Give me the film – a commanding voice ordered him.
The caprices of faith brought Gonzalo right in front of the scene to witness the secret police threatening Pedro. He recognized him immediately in spite of the years. In that instant that seemed to freeze the whole scene he thought that life was giving him the opportunity to repair the mistake that he made in the past. He always thought that the time when he appealed to his European look and the good clothes that he wore then, as a passport to avoid being arrested was a coward act.
-Let him go –he shouted. The police turned to see who was talking.
-Who are you?- asked the police .
-Gonzalo Larrain.- he replied. If you don‘t let him go I can assure you that tomorrow you will be in the street with lots of troubles. Gonzalo’s assertiveness and appearance made the police believe him and the fear for consequences made him released Pedro.
Nobody else moved or talked. Gonzalo approached Pedro and took him downstairs silently through the subway station far from the crowd and the battle that still continued upstairs.
Once again Gonzalo appealed to the Status Quo to impose his authority. Once again he appealed to the same weapons but with this time with a different purpose. This time, he used it to save a friend; the same friend he felt had abandoned in the past, relieving his conscience of an old guilt.
Apparently, not many things changed in this country after fifteen years.
While he traveled on the bus he noticed the walls of the city papered will posters supporting YES and NO. The whole idea of having only two options seemed so bizarre to him. In a normal situation political posters had pictures of a candidate in whom people could deposit their trust and their dreams but this time it was not the case. He couldn’t avoid thinking on; how ridiculous this dilemma was? Having to choose in between accepting something or not, did not make much sense to him especially after fifteen years of dictatorship. Instead, choosing among several different options seemed much more sensible. That was real democracy. But he held back his anger when he further thought that this was just the first step. A hypothetical victory of the NO option was a preliminary step for regular elections the coming year. So among the two options, the NO represented the hope of the people and Pedro’s hope.
The more the bus approached to the central avenues the more people with flags of the YES seemed to surround the bus. Soon the bus seemed to move so slow that Pedro decided that it was better to continue walking.
The clock marked 13:05.He had 55 minutes to arrive to Mr. Errazuriz company headquarters. Gonzalo was a bit nervous. While driving he thought that it was essential to arrive on time to give a good impression. He knew that in spite of the influences Mr Errazuriz would not take someone who did not have the skills nor the talent for such an important position in the company. Gonzalo like the mayority of the rich and influential people lived at the foot of the Andes in the highest part of the city and from there the city spread eastward.
The office was allocated in Providencia an area that became a sort of symbol of the successful new economic system full of shops and modern buildings with lots of glass not far from Gonzalo’s house. When he reached the traffic light at an intersection of two main avenues a battalion of street vendors approached to the cars offering their products. It wasn’t a new sight for Gonzalo. In fact these hard working people were always there and for some reason that day Gonzalo seemed to be paying special attention to them.
Using his business knowledge he started to examine minutely the whole modus operandi of these hard working people and he thought how after so many years of brutal neo liberalism at gun point even the most humble people in the country had assimilated the principles of business operations in order to survive. They were five of them and most likely all members of a single family that in order to stay alive saw themselves as a partnership. They were there everyday so that corner belonged to them and nobody else could sell there, so the corner became their premises and they all sold different things; so they had product diversity; from newspapers to seasonal fruits. They even incorporated the spirit of the plebiscite by selling flags but there was only one option available in that part of the city; the YES option.
These thoughts intertwined with a memory that brought Gonzalo fifteen years back to evoke the episode in which he together with Pedro and Silvana were selling flags in manifestations of both sides of the political spectrum of that time. He then smiled just like we all do when we remember our child pranks. Suddenly, the green light was there and he had to press the gas pedal and leave his thoughts behind.
As he approached to his destination he noticed that there was a march ahead. He parked his car and started to walk. He did not know about this demonstration, otherwise he would not had come to this area but it was too late to cancel his important appointment. Since the shocking episode that ended with Silvana’s death he avoided any political demonstration. At times he thought on participating on them but it was like a trauma inside of him and he deeply feared them. Unfortunately for him the more he approached to the address of Mr. Errazuriz headquarters the closer he got to the epicenter of the demonstration.
Gonzalo arrived to the meeting point on time. It was almost a rite that before any manifestation all the photographers, national and international correspondents and amateurs photographers got together in order to know who was there. Taking pictures in those circumstances was a very risky business and sometimes photographers disappeared and they were never seen anymore. Those who were most at risk were the amateur photographers like Pedro, who did not represent any important agency or newspaper who could claim and denounce his disappearance to the international public opinion. They were around twenty photographers from which eight were international correspondent. They were easy to spot them because they all wore gas masks and water proof clothing but Pedro relied on sucking a lemon to combat the effect of the tear gas if it was necessary. Along the main avenue there was a huge gathering of supporters of YES marching in a parade. Among the people marching, singing and shouting there were cars and trucks decorated with flags and slogans. These vehicles were crowded with supporters and had loudspeakers that encouraged the people on the side of the avenue to vote YES but the silence and impassiveness of the public implied that they were for the NO. The whole country knew that the only way that the YES could win would be through an electoral fraud but the people was not sure if the regime would dear to commit such fraud considering that the eyes of the whole world were on this plebiscite and there will be international observant that will denounce any irregularity.
Pedro excited moved around looking for his best shots. Gonzalo nervously tried to swim among the sea of people with the only purpose to arrive to Mr. Errazuriz office as soon as possible. The area was a commercial and business area and on a Friday at lunch time was always busy. Just like Gonzalo there were many people who happened to be there and their curiosity incited to remain there and observe. He needed to cross the same avenue where the demonstrators were parading. The only alternative was to cross the avenue through the subway access. A tribe of heavy metal fans who traditionally gather outside a record shop instinctively approached to the avenue to satisfy their inquisitiveness. What kind of people could support the YES?-they wanted to see. The truck that was passing in front of them had a group of suspicious supporters with military haircuts and sunglasses. Anyone with a little bit of sense to smell what is rotten would realized that those were paramilitary members supporting the regime. Soon, the temptation to unmask and make fun of them was too big. They replied instantly with the only way that they knew to make their point heard; with brutal repression and violence. Nobody knew that the truck was full of stones. They bent down, picked the stones up and started to throw them to the heavy metal supporters who were mixed among the public. In a second everything was a chaos. Everybody was searching for a place to take refugee. The heavy metal fans improvised weapons from anything they could find in such urban battle field; paving stones and street post. Other blocked the avenue with huge ornamental street flower pots so the cars could not continue and got trapped. Three of the paramilitaries decided to descend from the truck and followed the most audacious of their enemies who tried to break the glass of the truck on the driver side with a post. He attempted to escape descending at high speed the stairs of the subway station but he felt. Soon, he was surrounded by his pursuers and one of them extracted a curved knife and started to slash him on his upper legs.
Pedro was there and when he saw the man slashing the young guy he started to shoot his camera incessantly until someone took him from behind and he felt a pointy knife in his Adam’s apple.
-The film. Give me the film – a commanding voice ordered him.
The caprices of faith brought Gonzalo right in front of the scene to witness the secret police threatening Pedro. He recognized him immediately in spite of the years. In that instant that seemed to freeze the whole scene he thought that life was giving him the opportunity to repair the mistake that he made in the past. He always thought that the time when he appealed to his European look and the good clothes that he wore then, as a passport to avoid being arrested was a coward act.
-Let him go –he shouted. The police turned to see who was talking.
-Who are you?- asked the police .
-Gonzalo Larrain.- he replied. If you don‘t let him go I can assure you that tomorrow you will be in the street with lots of troubles. Gonzalo’s assertiveness and appearance made the police believe him and the fear for consequences made him released Pedro.
Nobody else moved or talked. Gonzalo approached Pedro and took him downstairs silently through the subway station far from the crowd and the battle that still continued upstairs.
Once again Gonzalo appealed to the Status Quo to impose his authority. Once again he appealed to the same weapons but with this time with a different purpose. This time, he used it to save a friend; the same friend he felt had abandoned in the past, relieving his conscience of an old guilt.
Apparently, not many things changed in this country after fifteen years.
The re-write of Pride and Prejudice
Chapter one
‘It is a TRUTH universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife.’
Mrs Bennet said to her husband while he was sitting in the library trying to read one of his books, and hoping his lovely wife would forget about him fully. However, that seems to be impossible with Mrs Bennet, as she is constantly in the pursuit of husbands for her five daughters.
‘Why did you make this comment, my dear?’ said Mr Bennet.
‘Well, Mr Bennet, there are two young gentlemen in Netherfield who are originally from the North of England, with a large inheritance and in want of two wives; according to Mrs Long whom has just had a long conversation with Mr Morris, and is quite sure that the two young men are having a ball as soon as the place is ready for receiving the guests.’
‘Our two girls will be the best choice for these gentlemen. Well, we have been invited and we shall be there on Saturday, the 16th of June, 1813 when our Jane will become 21 years of age.’
Mr Bennet makes no comment about it because he does not agree with the manner in which Mrs Bennet always tries to marry their daughters, with fortune and not with love as he believes to be the best arrangement for marriage.
Days go by and the Bennets have a visit from Mr Collins who is Mr Bennets’ cousin and heir to Longbourn estate; although Mr Collins is to inherit the estate upon the death of Mr Bennet, he, Mr Collins, shows no interest whatsoever in taking possession of the property and leaving his cousins without a home.
The day for the ball draws closer, and all the eligible ladies are getting very excited with the possibility of finding a (rich) husband there.
‘Lizzy, what are you going to wear for the ball, dear sister?’
‘I am not so sure, Jane. I have that beautiful gown that father and mother bought me last year for my 19th birthday; I thought perhaps it would be good enough for the ball, don’t you think?’
‘All the ladies in the county are going to be looking their very best to impress the young gentlemen, Lizzy.’
‘Dear sister, with such a handsome face you should not have to worry one little bit about those ladies wearing expensive gowns; for you have what they have not, natural beauty.’
As soon as Jane comes into the dancing room she catches Mr Bingley’s attention with her graceful looks and delicate manners; Mr Bingley cannot resist Jane’s elegance and refined style. Despite the low connections of her family, he proposes to her on the same night: it is love at first sight.
‘Miss Bennet, I would like to have your hand in matrimony?
‘Mr Bingley, I am simply astounded. And it is yes. I accept to marry you, Mr Bingley.’
Elizabeth on the contrary, does not have as much luck as her beautiful sister: because she, Elizabeth, has a tendency to judge people.
Mr Darcy, after talking to Elizabeth for a little awhile, acknowledges that Elizabeth has an inner beauty that one cannot perceive by just looking at her, but above all by communicating - verbally.
Elizabeth has the gift of being able to speak well and easily about different subjects: she reads a lot and gets all her knowledge and ideas out of the books she treasures so much.
‘Miss Bennet, will you give me the pleasure of this dance?’
‘Yes, the pleasure is as yours as it is mine, Mr Darcy.’ And they dance and converse for a long time.
A few days later Mr Darcy visits Ms Bennet and asks her if she will marry him. Without doubt Ms Bennet says yes.
Mrs Bennet is so gay with her two eldest daughters being asked in matrimony, that she and Mr Bennet have a loving night which produces a male offspring: Jonathan Bennet, who is going to inherit the Longbourn estate and therefore, secure it once and for all within the Bennet family for another generation.
Mr and Mrs Bennet decide to send the three young girls to school to have a good education; money is not a problem anymore with the birth of Jonathan Bennet.
At the ball Mr Collins also meets Charlotte Lucas, and inevitably falls in love with her; Charlotte has a very good impression of Mr Collins and decides to ask him for a dance.
‘Mr Collins, would you give me the honour of this dance?’
‘Naturally, Miss Lucas; it is all my pleasure.
Mr Collins looks a little surprised but accepts it all the same, as he believes that men and women have the same rights: and he is happy with a lady taking the lead.
‘Ms Lucas, I am in love with you and I would like you to be my wife.’
‘Mr Collins, since I set eyes on you that is all what I have wanted to do; to be your wife; we shall marry immediately, Mr Collins.’
‘Of course, my beloved; anything you say. Your request is my command.’
‘Let us dance, Ms Lucas; for this is the best night in my life.’
‘Yes, Mr Collins.’
The wedding
The three couples get married on the 8th day of August 1814.
Mr Darcy and Elizabeth Bennet go to live in the estate nearby, and raise a large family.
Mr Bingley and Jane Bennet go on a long journey overseas.
Mr Collins and Charlotte Lucas move to London where they have a very busy life with writing and printing poetry onto copper plate.
Chapter Two
Mr Collins is a poet, painter and printmaker; he is an intelligent, well educated man and very sensitive with matters regarding the political and economical situation in England at that time. Mr Collins dislikes the eighteenth and nineteenth century English society; he regards it repressive and authoritarian: where self-expression and power of imagination are not allowed. Also, Mr Collins does not approve of the English colonialism in the new world, America and the West Indies, and he uses his poems as a means of contesting against the possession of land and resources overseas, as well as the chaotic social situation that the poor class is made to live in.
Mr Collins does not accord of a society that believes that women should not be educated. He, Mr Collins, teaches his wife, Charlotte, to read and to write, and he trains her with the art of draftsman; later in life, his wife is the one to help him with the printing of his illuminated poetry – poetry which millions of scholars around the world are able to read and enjoy the freedom of expression, imagination and thoughts, that is so difficult to be seen in some societies.
Mr Collins “was concerned with the human imagination as a counter to the rise of science. The growing intellectual movement of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries placed scientific thought in the forefront of all knowledge, basing reality in material objects. He felt that imagination was essential to individual happiness because it allowed the individual to, as Wordsworth stated, ‘half-create’ the world. The individual shapes the reality he perceives because he brings certain a priori knowledge to every experience. The imagination also provides a common human bond; it provides a means of sympathy, of identification. However, the absence of imagination, he felt, would lead people to apathy and a false sense of being. As a Romantic poet, Mr Collins accepted the reality of the link between man and nature in the form of the human imagination as the basis of human understanding, rejecting the scientific world view of materialism.”
Mr and Mrs Collins live in London all their lives, just leaving the city a couple of times for a short period of two or three years; Mr Collins likes the city very much. They have no children, and live a life dedicated to writing a printing poetry onto copper plates. The couple live a poor life despite all the work they do; for the so imaginative and visionary poetry of Mr Collins’ does not raise any money at the time; the people’s level of understanding and discernment is not symmetrical with that of Mr Collins’ poetry: therefore, the poetry does not sell. The couple does share a special love and bond for each other; and Mr Collins reflects that special love in some of his, nowadays so popular, quotes: “I am in you and you in me, mutual in divine love.”
Chapter Three
Jane and Mr Bingley leave England setting sail from Queen Mary’s Dock in London on a sea voyage in August, straight after the wedding festivities. The couple embark on their journey with all the blessings of their parents, families and friends whom attend the wedding. The voyage starts extremely well with the sea being calm and pleasant for the first-time travellers, as Jane puts it to her beloved Mr Bingley.
‘Mr Bingley, it is such a lovely day to leave on this journey: the sky is blue, the sea water is crystal clear, the wind is not blowing hard on my soft and pale skin, and we are here together.’
‘Indeed, my beloved Jane; we are together forever.’
However, the piece and quite does not last very long as the wind suddenly starts to blow excessively hard and a hurricane wrecks the ship in half, killing all the other passengers except Jane and Mr Bingley: they are extremely good swimmers. Mr Bingley and Jane have to swim for about two hours - they nearly do not make it - before they are rescued by the Captain of a Portuguese ship off the western coast of Africa; the ship is on the route to Brazil. Jane who is already pregnant nearly dies because she has complications due to such rough conditions; Jane survives the disturbance of this journey but she miscarries the two-month-old baby.
‘Mr Bingley, I have lost our baby. I am so sorry.’
‘I know all about it, my beloved. It is not your fault; the condition on the ship is too harsh for you to bear a baby.’
‘The Lord will give us more children once we are ready for them. We need to settle down somewhere to be able to start a family.’
‘Yes, you are correct, Mr Bingley. We need to have a proper place to live before we start a family.’
The Captain, seeing that tragic situation that takes over the young couple, decides to help Jane and Mr Bingley to become owners of a plantation. They settle in the north of Brazil - Bahia; there, they grow sugar cane in a massive piece of land. The piece of land is so vast that the eyes cannot see the boundary of the property; the land and the sky become one.
‘Mr Bingley, how are we going to be able to keep this property by ourselves?’
‘Jane my dear, we are going to have slaves to work for us.’
‘Mr Bingley, are we aloud to do such thing? We cannot make people work for us, can we?’
‘My dear Mrs Bingley, this is my land - my kingdom; I do as I please. I make the law; I am the law; and we all have to live by it.’
Mr Bingley changes a lot after he arrives in the new world; and forgets all the principles - on how to treat people - that he had learnt back home: it must have been due to the hot sun, the cause of so many changes in Mr Bingley’s attitude.
Mr Bingley becomes a very tough and nasty land owner, completely different from that kind and polite person back in England; he starts to import slaves from Africa to work on the sugar plantation that they possess now.
Mr Bingley builds a very big house for the family and keeps Jane and all their children in there. Jane has one baby nearly every year now; the family gets bigger and bigger. Janes’ duties are only with the family; she does not intervene with Mr Bingley’s management of the plantation and the slaves. Jane does not agree with the way the slaves are treated; however, Mr Bingley is the master and the law.
As their children grow big enough to travel, Mr and Mrs Bingley send them to England to have a proper education. With the departure of her children, Jane finds herself without much to do and decides that the slave children ought to be educated on the farm; she asks Mr Bingley to build a classroom for the slaves. Mr Bingley does not like the idea of having slaves who can read, write and are able to question their master upon everything he does.
‘Jane, I do not like this idea of yours about educating my slaves.’
‘Mr Bingley, they are your slaves indeed; however, sir, they are people. They deserve to learn to communicate in English; because we do not speak their African language, do we Mr Bingley? If I do not teach them the language, who will?’
‘Very well Madam; you win. I shall build a classroom for your little slaves to be educated.’
‘If the slaves become educated and knowledgeable they are going to rebel against us, Mrs Bingley.’
‘Mr Bingley, have no fear, sir; they are only children.’
‘Jane, you are just a woman; you do not understand the danger of having educated slaves. I am a man; I know better.’
‘Thank you so much for that comment, Mr Bingley; indeed, I am just a woman and a teacher as well. My duty is to teach what has been taught to me: and that gives me great pleasure, sir.’
Despite all the opposition from Mr Bingley, Jane starts educating the children. Of course, whatever Jane teaches the slaves is about the Anglo-Saxon culture of hers. Therefore, the children learn to speak English and learn all about the English culture. The children grow up speaking English and knowing it to good standard; in fact, as the children grow bigger they start teaching their own parents and the other adults. The adults are very keen to learn to read and to write, and in a few years basically all the slave population is literate. Jane is radiant to see that not only the children but the adults can read and write as well. That is the end of illiteracy amongst the slaves.
‘Jane, I have been having problems with the slaves on the plantation’.
‘What is the matter, Mr Bingley?’
‘Your slaves are demanding a salary to work on my plantation.’
‘They said:’ ‘We can read and write; we are literate people and we have the right to be paid wages for our labour; we cannot remain as slaves based on the colour of our skin. We are children of the ‘Lord’ as well.”
‘What am I to do, Jane?’
‘Pay them some money and also provide proper accommodation for them to live in, Mr Bingley.’
‘Oh, accommodation is necessary as well, is it?’
‘Jane, this is going to ruin us.’
‘That is nonsense; you possess so much money, Mr Bingley that our great grand-children will never need to work if they do not want to.’
‘Mr Bingley, you ought to pay these people wages for their hard work.’
‘You should be a democratic landowner, Husband.’
‘Jane, where did you get this idea from?’
‘I do not remember you talking about equality, literacy and about paying slaves for their work before.’
‘My dear husband, that is because we did not have any slaves in England.’
Jane verifies all the books and she is aware of how much their annual revenue is. Jane decides that enough is enough and she has to have a meeting with all the slaves and come to an agreement with them. Jane believes that the slaves are right: they work very hard and they should be paid wages and have proper houses to live in with their families. Jane sets a date to see all adult slaves and discuss the matter.
‘Jane, what have you done now, woman?’
‘What is right and what should have been done years ago, Mr Bingley. It is enough of this sending money and resources to the Mother Country while these people perish here in front of our eyes. They are human beings; they deserve better; and above all, this is their country now as well as ours, Mr Bingley. England is not our country any longer for we live here, do we not?’
‘Mr Bingley, I cannot think there is any intrinsic value in one colour more than another, that white is better than black; only we think it so, because we are so, and prone to judge favourably in our case.’
‘I shall follow William Wilberforce’s ideology and free these people from this disgraceful life.’
William Wilberforce (1759 – 1833)
“William Wilberforce was a deeply religious English member of parliament and social reformer who was very influential in the abolition of the slave trade and eventually slavery itself in the British Empire.
William was concerned with social reform, particularly the improvement of factory conditions in Britain.
The abolitionist Thomas Clarkson had an enormous influence on Wilberforce. He and others were campaigning for an end to the trade in which British ships were carrying black slaves from Africa, in terrible conditions, to the West Indies as goods to be bought and sold.
Wilberforce was persuaded to lobby for the abolition of the slave trade and for 18 years he regularly introduced anti-slavery motions in parliament. The campaign was supported by many members of the Clapham Sect and other abolitionists who raised public awareness of their cause with pamphlets, books, rallies and petitions. In 1807, the slave trade was finally abolished, but this did not free those who were already slaves. It was not until 1833 that an act was passed giving freedom to all slaves in the British Empire.”
‘It is a TRUTH universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife.’
Mrs Bennet said to her husband while he was sitting in the library trying to read one of his books, and hoping his lovely wife would forget about him fully. However, that seems to be impossible with Mrs Bennet, as she is constantly in the pursuit of husbands for her five daughters.
‘Why did you make this comment, my dear?’ said Mr Bennet.
‘Well, Mr Bennet, there are two young gentlemen in Netherfield who are originally from the North of England, with a large inheritance and in want of two wives; according to Mrs Long whom has just had a long conversation with Mr Morris, and is quite sure that the two young men are having a ball as soon as the place is ready for receiving the guests.’
‘Our two girls will be the best choice for these gentlemen. Well, we have been invited and we shall be there on Saturday, the 16th of June, 1813 when our Jane will become 21 years of age.’
Mr Bennet makes no comment about it because he does not agree with the manner in which Mrs Bennet always tries to marry their daughters, with fortune and not with love as he believes to be the best arrangement for marriage.
Days go by and the Bennets have a visit from Mr Collins who is Mr Bennets’ cousin and heir to Longbourn estate; although Mr Collins is to inherit the estate upon the death of Mr Bennet, he, Mr Collins, shows no interest whatsoever in taking possession of the property and leaving his cousins without a home.
The day for the ball draws closer, and all the eligible ladies are getting very excited with the possibility of finding a (rich) husband there.
‘Lizzy, what are you going to wear for the ball, dear sister?’
‘I am not so sure, Jane. I have that beautiful gown that father and mother bought me last year for my 19th birthday; I thought perhaps it would be good enough for the ball, don’t you think?’
‘All the ladies in the county are going to be looking their very best to impress the young gentlemen, Lizzy.’
‘Dear sister, with such a handsome face you should not have to worry one little bit about those ladies wearing expensive gowns; for you have what they have not, natural beauty.’
As soon as Jane comes into the dancing room she catches Mr Bingley’s attention with her graceful looks and delicate manners; Mr Bingley cannot resist Jane’s elegance and refined style. Despite the low connections of her family, he proposes to her on the same night: it is love at first sight.
‘Miss Bennet, I would like to have your hand in matrimony?
‘Mr Bingley, I am simply astounded. And it is yes. I accept to marry you, Mr Bingley.’
Elizabeth on the contrary, does not have as much luck as her beautiful sister: because she, Elizabeth, has a tendency to judge people.
Mr Darcy, after talking to Elizabeth for a little awhile, acknowledges that Elizabeth has an inner beauty that one cannot perceive by just looking at her, but above all by communicating - verbally.
Elizabeth has the gift of being able to speak well and easily about different subjects: she reads a lot and gets all her knowledge and ideas out of the books she treasures so much.
‘Miss Bennet, will you give me the pleasure of this dance?’
‘Yes, the pleasure is as yours as it is mine, Mr Darcy.’ And they dance and converse for a long time.
A few days later Mr Darcy visits Ms Bennet and asks her if she will marry him. Without doubt Ms Bennet says yes.
Mrs Bennet is so gay with her two eldest daughters being asked in matrimony, that she and Mr Bennet have a loving night which produces a male offspring: Jonathan Bennet, who is going to inherit the Longbourn estate and therefore, secure it once and for all within the Bennet family for another generation.
Mr and Mrs Bennet decide to send the three young girls to school to have a good education; money is not a problem anymore with the birth of Jonathan Bennet.
At the ball Mr Collins also meets Charlotte Lucas, and inevitably falls in love with her; Charlotte has a very good impression of Mr Collins and decides to ask him for a dance.
‘Mr Collins, would you give me the honour of this dance?’
‘Naturally, Miss Lucas; it is all my pleasure.
Mr Collins looks a little surprised but accepts it all the same, as he believes that men and women have the same rights: and he is happy with a lady taking the lead.
‘Ms Lucas, I am in love with you and I would like you to be my wife.’
‘Mr Collins, since I set eyes on you that is all what I have wanted to do; to be your wife; we shall marry immediately, Mr Collins.’
‘Of course, my beloved; anything you say. Your request is my command.’
‘Let us dance, Ms Lucas; for this is the best night in my life.’
‘Yes, Mr Collins.’
The wedding
The three couples get married on the 8th day of August 1814.
Mr Darcy and Elizabeth Bennet go to live in the estate nearby, and raise a large family.
Mr Bingley and Jane Bennet go on a long journey overseas.
Mr Collins and Charlotte Lucas move to London where they have a very busy life with writing and printing poetry onto copper plate.
Chapter Two
Mr Collins is a poet, painter and printmaker; he is an intelligent, well educated man and very sensitive with matters regarding the political and economical situation in England at that time. Mr Collins dislikes the eighteenth and nineteenth century English society; he regards it repressive and authoritarian: where self-expression and power of imagination are not allowed. Also, Mr Collins does not approve of the English colonialism in the new world, America and the West Indies, and he uses his poems as a means of contesting against the possession of land and resources overseas, as well as the chaotic social situation that the poor class is made to live in.
Mr Collins does not accord of a society that believes that women should not be educated. He, Mr Collins, teaches his wife, Charlotte, to read and to write, and he trains her with the art of draftsman; later in life, his wife is the one to help him with the printing of his illuminated poetry – poetry which millions of scholars around the world are able to read and enjoy the freedom of expression, imagination and thoughts, that is so difficult to be seen in some societies.
Mr Collins “was concerned with the human imagination as a counter to the rise of science. The growing intellectual movement of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries placed scientific thought in the forefront of all knowledge, basing reality in material objects. He felt that imagination was essential to individual happiness because it allowed the individual to, as Wordsworth stated, ‘half-create’ the world. The individual shapes the reality he perceives because he brings certain a priori knowledge to every experience. The imagination also provides a common human bond; it provides a means of sympathy, of identification. However, the absence of imagination, he felt, would lead people to apathy and a false sense of being. As a Romantic poet, Mr Collins accepted the reality of the link between man and nature in the form of the human imagination as the basis of human understanding, rejecting the scientific world view of materialism.”
Mr and Mrs Collins live in London all their lives, just leaving the city a couple of times for a short period of two or three years; Mr Collins likes the city very much. They have no children, and live a life dedicated to writing a printing poetry onto copper plates. The couple live a poor life despite all the work they do; for the so imaginative and visionary poetry of Mr Collins’ does not raise any money at the time; the people’s level of understanding and discernment is not symmetrical with that of Mr Collins’ poetry: therefore, the poetry does not sell. The couple does share a special love and bond for each other; and Mr Collins reflects that special love in some of his, nowadays so popular, quotes: “I am in you and you in me, mutual in divine love.”
Chapter Three
Jane and Mr Bingley leave England setting sail from Queen Mary’s Dock in London on a sea voyage in August, straight after the wedding festivities. The couple embark on their journey with all the blessings of their parents, families and friends whom attend the wedding. The voyage starts extremely well with the sea being calm and pleasant for the first-time travellers, as Jane puts it to her beloved Mr Bingley.
‘Mr Bingley, it is such a lovely day to leave on this journey: the sky is blue, the sea water is crystal clear, the wind is not blowing hard on my soft and pale skin, and we are here together.’
‘Indeed, my beloved Jane; we are together forever.’
However, the piece and quite does not last very long as the wind suddenly starts to blow excessively hard and a hurricane wrecks the ship in half, killing all the other passengers except Jane and Mr Bingley: they are extremely good swimmers. Mr Bingley and Jane have to swim for about two hours - they nearly do not make it - before they are rescued by the Captain of a Portuguese ship off the western coast of Africa; the ship is on the route to Brazil. Jane who is already pregnant nearly dies because she has complications due to such rough conditions; Jane survives the disturbance of this journey but she miscarries the two-month-old baby.
‘Mr Bingley, I have lost our baby. I am so sorry.’
‘I know all about it, my beloved. It is not your fault; the condition on the ship is too harsh for you to bear a baby.’
‘The Lord will give us more children once we are ready for them. We need to settle down somewhere to be able to start a family.’
‘Yes, you are correct, Mr Bingley. We need to have a proper place to live before we start a family.’
The Captain, seeing that tragic situation that takes over the young couple, decides to help Jane and Mr Bingley to become owners of a plantation. They settle in the north of Brazil - Bahia; there, they grow sugar cane in a massive piece of land. The piece of land is so vast that the eyes cannot see the boundary of the property; the land and the sky become one.
‘Mr Bingley, how are we going to be able to keep this property by ourselves?’
‘Jane my dear, we are going to have slaves to work for us.’
‘Mr Bingley, are we aloud to do such thing? We cannot make people work for us, can we?’
‘My dear Mrs Bingley, this is my land - my kingdom; I do as I please. I make the law; I am the law; and we all have to live by it.’
Mr Bingley changes a lot after he arrives in the new world; and forgets all the principles - on how to treat people - that he had learnt back home: it must have been due to the hot sun, the cause of so many changes in Mr Bingley’s attitude.
Mr Bingley becomes a very tough and nasty land owner, completely different from that kind and polite person back in England; he starts to import slaves from Africa to work on the sugar plantation that they possess now.
Mr Bingley builds a very big house for the family and keeps Jane and all their children in there. Jane has one baby nearly every year now; the family gets bigger and bigger. Janes’ duties are only with the family; she does not intervene with Mr Bingley’s management of the plantation and the slaves. Jane does not agree with the way the slaves are treated; however, Mr Bingley is the master and the law.
As their children grow big enough to travel, Mr and Mrs Bingley send them to England to have a proper education. With the departure of her children, Jane finds herself without much to do and decides that the slave children ought to be educated on the farm; she asks Mr Bingley to build a classroom for the slaves. Mr Bingley does not like the idea of having slaves who can read, write and are able to question their master upon everything he does.
‘Jane, I do not like this idea of yours about educating my slaves.’
‘Mr Bingley, they are your slaves indeed; however, sir, they are people. They deserve to learn to communicate in English; because we do not speak their African language, do we Mr Bingley? If I do not teach them the language, who will?’
‘Very well Madam; you win. I shall build a classroom for your little slaves to be educated.’
‘If the slaves become educated and knowledgeable they are going to rebel against us, Mrs Bingley.’
‘Mr Bingley, have no fear, sir; they are only children.’
‘Jane, you are just a woman; you do not understand the danger of having educated slaves. I am a man; I know better.’
‘Thank you so much for that comment, Mr Bingley; indeed, I am just a woman and a teacher as well. My duty is to teach what has been taught to me: and that gives me great pleasure, sir.’
Despite all the opposition from Mr Bingley, Jane starts educating the children. Of course, whatever Jane teaches the slaves is about the Anglo-Saxon culture of hers. Therefore, the children learn to speak English and learn all about the English culture. The children grow up speaking English and knowing it to good standard; in fact, as the children grow bigger they start teaching their own parents and the other adults. The adults are very keen to learn to read and to write, and in a few years basically all the slave population is literate. Jane is radiant to see that not only the children but the adults can read and write as well. That is the end of illiteracy amongst the slaves.
‘Jane, I have been having problems with the slaves on the plantation’.
‘What is the matter, Mr Bingley?’
‘Your slaves are demanding a salary to work on my plantation.’
‘They said:’ ‘We can read and write; we are literate people and we have the right to be paid wages for our labour; we cannot remain as slaves based on the colour of our skin. We are children of the ‘Lord’ as well.”
‘What am I to do, Jane?’
‘Pay them some money and also provide proper accommodation for them to live in, Mr Bingley.’
‘Oh, accommodation is necessary as well, is it?’
‘Jane, this is going to ruin us.’
‘That is nonsense; you possess so much money, Mr Bingley that our great grand-children will never need to work if they do not want to.’
‘Mr Bingley, you ought to pay these people wages for their hard work.’
‘You should be a democratic landowner, Husband.’
‘Jane, where did you get this idea from?’
‘I do not remember you talking about equality, literacy and about paying slaves for their work before.’
‘My dear husband, that is because we did not have any slaves in England.’
Jane verifies all the books and she is aware of how much their annual revenue is. Jane decides that enough is enough and she has to have a meeting with all the slaves and come to an agreement with them. Jane believes that the slaves are right: they work very hard and they should be paid wages and have proper houses to live in with their families. Jane sets a date to see all adult slaves and discuss the matter.
‘Jane, what have you done now, woman?’
‘What is right and what should have been done years ago, Mr Bingley. It is enough of this sending money and resources to the Mother Country while these people perish here in front of our eyes. They are human beings; they deserve better; and above all, this is their country now as well as ours, Mr Bingley. England is not our country any longer for we live here, do we not?’
‘Mr Bingley, I cannot think there is any intrinsic value in one colour more than another, that white is better than black; only we think it so, because we are so, and prone to judge favourably in our case.’
‘I shall follow William Wilberforce’s ideology and free these people from this disgraceful life.’
William Wilberforce (1759 – 1833)
“William Wilberforce was a deeply religious English member of parliament and social reformer who was very influential in the abolition of the slave trade and eventually slavery itself in the British Empire.
William was concerned with social reform, particularly the improvement of factory conditions in Britain.
The abolitionist Thomas Clarkson had an enormous influence on Wilberforce. He and others were campaigning for an end to the trade in which British ships were carrying black slaves from Africa, in terrible conditions, to the West Indies as goods to be bought and sold.
Wilberforce was persuaded to lobby for the abolition of the slave trade and for 18 years he regularly introduced anti-slavery motions in parliament. The campaign was supported by many members of the Clapham Sect and other abolitionists who raised public awareness of their cause with pamphlets, books, rallies and petitions. In 1807, the slave trade was finally abolished, but this did not free those who were already slaves. It was not until 1833 that an act was passed giving freedom to all slaves in the British Empire.”
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)