Taj's Early Years

by Lotta Bangs

  “Why would anyone want to kill such a clever little girl?”

  “Oh that is obvious Emil,” said Julius. “There are thousands of less than half-competent martial arts teachers making a good living from dragging out the teaching for many years. My own field, BJJ is the prime example, though our teachers are all much better than those in the MacDojos in the US and elsewhere.

  “Taj is teaching Savate up to highest silver gloves level in only two days of intense enlightening lessons, and three varieties of karate to sixth dan black belt on the following day. Her innovative technique and moves will put all the slackers out of business.

  “The personal growth you witnessed in the abused women is also happening to all her other students, though more slowly and less obviously. They’re discovering amazing new things inside themselves and other people. Everybody she teaches, either personally, or through one of the teachers she trained, is grateful and loves her, even when they don’t yet understand what has happened to them.”

  There was silence at the table as everyone considered those words. I had noticed and enjoyed that all my students loved me, but since babyhood, I’ve had that effect on people I allowed close. I’d thought it was a normal thing that happened to everyone. Apparently not.

  “I think the kata breakthroughs draw people closer, offered Paul. It’s an exhilarating intimate experience for each person. Helping someone else through it, and sharing that with thousands of others, bonds the whole class. You can always see how much friendlier, more open and nicer, they all are on the second day.”

  “That’s right Paul. They’ve seen into their core and discovered, probably for the first time in their lives, what great worthwhile people they really are. That gives them the confidence to show their real selves to others instead of the façades that they had used to deal with society.”

  “This is getting too deep for me, Julius. I’ve always accepted people as they are, and have found almost everyone to be very worthwhile. I haven’t noticed anybody putting on façades with me except pedophiles. Is this just because I’m a child and most people think it’s too much effort to put on any acts to impress me?”

  “Taj, you’re only a child in years and body. Mentally and emotionally, you are stronger and more mature than most adults, but you are not aloof as adults are behind their barriers. Everybody warms to you because you are genuinely interested in each person you meet and that comes across immediately.”

  “That’s very perceptive, Paul. You’re right. Taj isn’t fenced in at all. Adults put up barriers to keep people at a distance and cushion themselves from being hurt again. Taj has already suffered a great deal of pain in her life, lost her entire family and was attacked while tiny, yet she is still open and vulnerable.”

  “Vulnerable to what, Julius? I don’t understand. Maybe you’re reading me wrong.

  “I don’t feel open at all. I have a great number of secrets that no one else knows and I cannot talk about. I’ve lived through enormous dangers by not resisting nor trying to avoid them, but trying to stay simple, flexible and as small a target as possible. Walls and barriers are excess baggage that would have made me more visible and accessible.

  “And I am confused about some things. Like, I wish I had killed that major. Yet I am also glad that I have never taken a life and hope never to need to do so.”

  “Perhaps vulnerable to disappointment and being let down by people you depended upon. That happens to most people over and over.”

  “Maybe. I’ve never depended upon anyone. Except perhaps, Maggie. And having no human weaknesses, she has never let me down nor betrayed me.

  “Fermina and I have a close but equal relationship. Though she’s understanding and supportive, we’re more friends than mother and daughter. I’ve always kept control of my own life.”

  “That makes you unique Taj. Most children rely on the adults in their lives to provide all they need. I don’t know of any other child who was not only self-supporting at such a young age, but also universally loved by a large group of people willing to do anything for you.

  “I fear though that when the inevitable first big disappointment happens, that it will be a devastating blow. I hope you survive it without being destroyed.”

  “I hope so too Julius. As you said, I have already suffered much pain and tragedy in my life, far more even than the official record reveals, and it hasn’t turned me into a misanthrope or pessimist. I plan to continue as I am.”

  “I’ll pray that you do, Taj.”

  “Thank you, Julius. And now we’d better finish here and get to the next class.”

  * * *

  Most of the students who had shared the night classes with Emil turned up for the day class, despite getting only four hours sleep—even less if they had attended that BJJ match.

  Violet and the other teachers had done a superb job on them. They were actually two kata ahead of my lot. That would be because Violet gave the preconceptions speech earlier.

  I now had over eleven thousand students in this one class. That was almost full capacity.

  Meanwhile we’d had to start two new beginner classes two hours apart. Not just to fit the latest accumulation of abused women, but all the paying students who had joined from word-of-mouth recommendations or after seeing my match with Julius either live or on TV.

  And still more of each type were pouring in.

  Additional classes would be started every few hours today as required. The hundred and forty students who had come along hoping for a little holiday had all been roped in to help my teachers handle the unprecedented influx.

  Tomorrow most of these overlapping classes would again be combined into one or two giant ones.

  Only Paul and Armando had stayed with me. All my other assistants were from the holidayers, but they fitted in well, improving their own abilities as they helped the new students. It was really amazing how much better and faster everyone learned in a huge class when most people would have expected the reverse.

  The elation and enthusiasm increased, spiraled and crescendoed, affecting, sweeping up and inspiring everyone in the room, teachers, assistants and students. Those assistants were all at third level silver by the end of our first period and the rest of the class were there at the second period, all now working at full speed.

  We had given all beginners copies of the rules and regulations they needed to learn at the first break yesterday, and now they had all tested word perfect to Maggie. They only needed to partner up, choreograph and practice a new themed routine for the final judging.

  Paul and I left them to organize themselves, while we called in on the six other classes that were currently running.

  I had been wearing Julian’s master’s belt all day. Every time I walked into another class I was clapped by the new students, which was nice. I appeared to have become some kind of a hero to them, so it seemed a good idea to try to visit each class I could get to. Many had specified on their enrolment forms that they wanted to be in my class, but when the logistics and time factor were explained to them, they had settled for at least one day under my tutelage.

  I gathered all the available teachers with longer experience to help with the judging. Maggie would record each of the choreographed routines so we wouldn’t miss any innovative moves which were worth extra points. We had so many third level silvers now, it seemed necessary to add a fourth level to differentiate those with new creative concepts.

  Just doing something a little differently, wasn’t enough to count as an innovation. It had to be a move which would take an experienced savateur by surprise, but not break any of the savate rules. I had clarified this when teaching Paul’s fresh introductions to the class and had claimed each of my own as well, explaining the inspiration or circumstances which had led to each idea.

  I collected eighteen more teachers and we saw five presentations at a time. The standard was very high, the themes interesting, the new ideas very few, but those few were arresting.

  Emil par
tnered with one of the smaller ladies. He had worked out answers to some of the tactics I had used to defeat him. He had to alter my moves to suit an adult build, which changed them greatly. He had four new moves and four corresponding new answers to them. He duxed the class with those.

  One of the abused ladies, Gemina, had three innovations to use with standard moves. Three others had two each. I offered all four work as assistants. Armando and Julius had paired up and worked out three imaginative answers to counter moves of mine they had seen on the tapes yesterday, also having to alter my moves to fit an adult body.

  I realized that I had omitted an important source of new methods designed for a specific purpose, so had Maggie set up four series of the giant screens again and play the tapes of my bouts with the French champions to the room.

  These moves inspired Paul, who persuaded Gemina, now in assistant costume, to spar with him and within a short time they came up with five more novel ideas.

  I placed all the innovative new maneuvers into kata with appropriate other moves to help them flow smoothly, inventing another new move to fit two of them together better. I taught these to the entire class with the help of my senior teachers and new assistants.

  Maggie was already playing the French champions’ tapes to two of the other classes. In future they would be shown at the end of the first day’s savate instruction.

  Maggie had been monitoring each of the students, noting their strengths, weak points, and susceptibilities. Although most had qualified as third level silver, she had added ‘commended’ and ‘highly commended’ grades to those and the fourth level winners. She personalized the certificates further with various pertinent comments I or the other judges had made about their performances.

  Armando made his usual request for written feedback on the savate course and the certificates were presented.

  Chapter 23

  A Declaration of Sorts

  I worked several of the weight machines for a while, took a long hard swim, then still feeling antsy, asked Maggie for a plaster block. She gave me one already roughly bust-shaped and set on a wooden foundation. I spread out dust cloths and set to work, carving a likeness of Julius as he had looked when offering me his obi. He had understood that I resented the artificial BJJ restrictions which relegated me to nonentity status and disallowed me from displaying my real expertise.

  Paul had been out celebrating with his sisters and friends. He returned after a few hours, bringing me tea and a tray of finger food. Although there was a conversation nook on the other side of the room, he sat on my bed to watch me work, making an occasional remark.

  Emil had apparently flaked even earlier and retired to bed alone, as Lorna had stayed with the group.

  “Gemina told us her story tonight.”

  “Anything unusual about it?”

  “Yes. She came here straight from hospital after delivering early yesterday. She just sneaked out to their car with the baby in a sling at the change of shift.”

  “Her belly was remarkably flat for a new mother’s. Is the baby alright?”

  “Yes, though she wasn’t due for another three weeks. Labor started when her husband punched her in the guts at the clinic after an ultrasound showed the child was a daughter, not the son he had demanded. He was held by security, arrested and charged. The man then had the hide to message her in delivery to ask her to arrange his bail.”

  “Did she?”

  “No. She took the opportunity to collect what she needed from home, empty their bank accounts and make her escape.

  “It had been the first time he’d hit her. She decided there would be no opportunity for a repeat.”

  “She’d still be bleeding heavily, though she didn’t appear pale or weakened. I hope all that savate practice didn’t make things worse for her.”

  “No. The girls asked about that stuff. Apparently the women in the Galen nursery know how to handle all that and fixed her up when she first came in.”

  That was really interesting. None of my medical books gave any hint about how to turn off the heavy postpartum bleeding, nor how to return the uterus and abdomen to their pre-pregnancy conformation. I’ll have to investigate that.

  “But though she’s mad at her husband, Gemina seems angrier with herself for not having connected the obvious clues earlier and recognized his instability. They dated for three years before marrying and he had always been respectful and gentle, though very definite in his opinions and unforgiving of contrary ideas. He liked everything to be as he had ordered it.

  “I wouldn’t have picked up the possibility of gross violence from just that. I don’t understand how she can blame herself for anything.”

  I glanced back. The poor chap did appear confused.

  “It’s a female thing, Paul. Women have always been the nurturers and peacemakers. So they’re always blamed for not keeping their husbands under control. It’s as if men were savage pit bulls which always have to be muzzled and restrained in public, yet are docile with their owners.

  “Women have bought into that idea that they are responsible for their men’s bad behavior, taking the guilt onto themselves. Most abusers and rapists play into that belief too, blaming the woman for upsetting or arousing them.”

  “So that really makes abusive men and rapists into impulsive, immature boys blaming everyone else for their reactions and lack of control?”

  “Something like that, I guess. It’s not a modern thing.

  “For most of history, women have put up with the most brutal men and foul treatment in order to raise their families. They had no other recourse. To survive, they just had to discover a way to live with the man they’d been stuck with.

  “Those who succeeded, passed along the tricks and techniques they used to avoid being beaten and to keep their men calm and satisfied. And still, many women were treated as punching bags and murdered by their husbands for no particular reason.”

  “What, sexual tricks?” Paul’s eyes had lit up with interest.

  I laughed. I certainly was not going there.

  “Sometimes, maybe. The ones I’ve heard of were about keeping your man well fed—stuffing him with a heavy, slow-to-digest meal as soon as he returned home, so he was too torpid and contented to get violent.

  “Or like Scheherazade entertaining him with stories. Don’t forget, her husband killed a thousand innocent women before her. She didn’t go to the Bluebeard because she loved him; she married him hoping to stop the slaughter. Her mother was English and Scheherazade was well-educated and very intelligent.”

  “You mean she was real? I thought that book was just fables and fairy tales.”

  “Many of the stories she told were, but quite a few were historical. Scheherazade herself and the Shah were real. I like to believe that her success was responsible for Arabic girls’ being better educated.

  “You know, the old Biblical and Hebraic laws allowed a man to mistreat, even kill a disobedient wife, as long as he followed the rule of thumb.”

  Paul raised an eyebrow in enquiry.

  “The stick or rod he beat her with had to be no thicker than the base of his thumb.”

  “No, I didn’t know that. I’d heard of the rule of thumb, but thought it was just a way of taking a rough measurement. How barbaric.”

  “Yes, but people, especially men, were barbaric then. They usually owed allegiance to some overlord and had to go off regularly to fight in various wars, raids or invasions. Many women were actually war booty, torn from their homes, still mourning slaughtered husbands and family, handed out to whomever was in need of a wife.

  “Most problems were settled by fighting, killing or treachery, so even in their homes that was the only way men knew how to behave.

  “It’s only in the last two centuries that wife-beating has been considered a crime.”

  “Well, I couldn’t hit either a woman or a child.”

  I glanced back at him again. Paul had removed his shoes and was now leaning against my piled pillows, h
is head cradled in his interlocked hands, elbows out. I wondered idly if that common position would classify as akimbo.

  “I should hope not.”

  “The ironic thing is that Gemina actually birthed a boy and her husband won’t know unless he goes to the hospital.”

  “Well, ultrasounds can only reveal what the baby’s position allows. I’ve seen some very strange ultrasound echoes, even a famous one which showed a distinct cat in with the fetus.”

  Paul went quiet after that.

  I became so engrossed in my work I forgot about him. I finished the piece and asked Maggie to coat it with pewter coloring again. It did look good.

  ^^You do appear to have caught the inner person, Taj. You could read his whole character from your depiction. Do you want me to place a copy next to his other bust? And another for Armando? I presume you’d want to keep the original. ^^??

  “Yes. Good idea. Thanks Maggie.” I yawned. “I’m really tired now. Time for bed.”

  ^^What about Paul?^^

  “What about him?”

  ^^He fell asleep in your bed. Do you want me to move him?^^

  I turned. Paul looked so peaceful curled on his side. So innocent. So trusting. My heart went out to him.

  “No, just put him in pajamas please and place him under the covers. The bed’s king-size. There’s plenty of room for both of us.”

  I shook some loose plaster dust off my PJs, then gave up and stripped them off, tossing them into the laundry basket. I folded up the dustcovers, brushed my hair, took a quick shower, cleaned my teeth, donned fresh pajamas climbed into bed and fell asleep.

  I woke after a few hours to find myself cradled in Paul’s arms, my ear against his steadily beating heart. That felt very nice. I did wonder which of us had scooched over to the other, but fell asleep again before figuring it out.

  I was first to wake in the morning and just lay there watching him sleep, still enfolded in his arms, but with my head up on a pillow this time.

  Paul looked younger and more relaxed asleep. Around seventeen. His eyelids flickered in REM stage. I wondered what he dreamt about.

  I had never been able to look at him so closely before. His eyebrows and lashes actually weren’t blonde; they were fawn. I wondered if he had them dyed or if they were natural.