Woi, Rahul hailed him, leaping out of the car before it came to a stop. Ah see yuh rung hyah, ah know who yuh is. Yuh feel yuh could beat up meh sistah and git away wid it?
Rahul’s strides were long and matched the rhythm of his upper body, his shoulders taut and square. The boy’s friends all scattered, leaving the contents of Arya’s bag in the dust.
You! Rahul said, grabbing him by his collar, lifting him up, and ramming his back into the tree. The boy did nothing, didn’t even squirm or fight back. Rahul was taller, broader, and stronger by far; to anger him would only make things worse. Her brother’s grasp was tight enough that the boy’s shirt began to rip, and even though he’d just beaten her up Arya felt sorry for him. The whipping her brother wanted to give this boy could prevent him from walking for days.
Rahul, Arya interrupted, is ahright leff im nah. Look all meh tings hyah. Arya stooped down and scooped everything back into her backpack, dust and all.
—Ah doh know why, eh Krys gyul, my mother says to me, ah juss watch de way he watchin Rahul like he so use toh gettin beat up and ah juss din wahn Rahul toh beat im up anymoh. Ah lil ruffin up was good but no lash oh nutten.
The boy looked Rahul in the eye, but what he revealed was utter sadness. Rahul seemed unable to hit him despite his arm being cocked for a punch. Instead, he shoved the boy’s back into the tree over and over again threatening, If yuh evah mess wid meh sistah again ahgo keel yuh, yuh hear me? Ahgo trow yuh ass een dat ravine and nobody go find yuh. Now goan from here. Goan yuh muddahass yuh.
Rahul didn’t look at her as they all clambered back into his friend’s car. They returned home shortly before their father and rushed to help everyone finish up. Arya searched for something in her brother’s face, in his actions, that united them through this experience. No one had ever cared enough to defend her before, and she yearned for a more profound connection with one of her siblings. But Rahul didn’t give that to her. By the next day all was forgotten, and the gallant brother she witnessed returned to the brother who ignored her, too busy with his older friends, cars, and beer.
To prevent her bike from being vandalized, Arya rode past the school and chained it up close to Avinash’s house just on the outskirts of Sangre Grande, in a village much less remote than hers. It was her chance to glimpse a different village, so when Arya collected her bike at the end of the day she desperately wanted to explore more. She had no time, though, and was too afraid of getting into trouble. Whenever her father sent them all into town for market trips he always ordered through clenched teeth, Straight dey an back. And she listened.
—E live closah to de school, my mother says to me, boh whey e live it hah moh people and cahs and everyting. Rheal diffrant from whey we livin up een de bush. It juss look and sound like ah brightah place. Ah juss wanted toh be closah toh glimpse it, yuh know? Stick up een de bush all de time.
EXAMS
—AH JUSS WANT TOH GET OUTTAH DEY, Krys, my mother tells me over dinner one night, and de only whey ah di see ah doin dat was troo school. And so meh daydreamin, Krys, dreamin dreamin dreamin because ah ahl de tings dat mahn used toh make we do.
Arya escaped her life by daydreaming, often strolling through the forests that cupped their home. Once, when she was sixteen, an infection broke out among their chickens, killing off their birds by the hundreds. Arya and Amrit were charged with ridding the farm of the dead birds, so they tossed them along the banks of the closest river to the house. In the heat of the dry season, the muddy water sank low, and the bodies eventually clogged the water flow.
When their father found out, he made them pick up the birds one by one. Hundreds of decomposed carcasses littered the banks. Flies and buzzards swarmed them. Blood and guts, sticky and putrid, were strewn everywhere.
—Meh stomach wanted to come troo meh mout, Krys, my mother says to me, ah di trow up so much. Ah di hate im so much foh makin we do dat.
The heat pressing around them pulled the bodies apart, the outsides going in a different direction from the insides. Maggots sprayed a fine mist over them, and Arya and Amrit dusted them off frantically.
With nowhere else to turn, Arya swept her mind to daydreams while picking up the chicken parts, her arms and clothes smeared red, worms teeming all around. Lost in her own head, she didn’t hear Amrit as he spoke to her, keeping up a steady stream to cope. Side by side, they continued till the job was done.
—School was de dream foh awhile, eh Krys, my mother says to me, until ah realize it juss dey toh keep we een we place, Krys. We wasn’t suppose to bettah weself atall. But ah wasn’t goan leh dat stop meh.
Arya repeated standard five at Guaico Presbyterian School when she failed her Common Entrance exam the first time. When her second chance rolled around, Arya enconsced herself in a corner of the chicken pen and studied when she should have been cleaning the pens and feeding the hens. Instead of taking the goats further out to fresh pastures, she hurried them out of sight of the house and crouched under a tree to practice her math and dissect her language arts. All Arya knew was, she wanted nothing to do with farming, and getting an education was her only escape from her father’s estate.
—Gramma di fail she Common Entrance exam ovah an ovah again Krys, my mother tells me, an ah din wantah end up like she.
The second exam day rolled around, and Arya sat on sweaty palms. She was so nervous, she needed to pee. The students had been instructed not to break the seals of their booklets, so she didn’t allow her fingers to stray anywhere near hers, lest there be some commotion. At fifteen minutes to start time, the air crackled around them, fraught with anxiety and pressure. A boy raised his hand. Arya recognized him from another class. He was the ringleader of the most popular boys at school, handsome, his Indian features prominent, his skin the color of ground nutmeg, his head topped with abundant black hair combed back with coconut oil.
Suh? Excuse meh, suh? the boy said. The proctor halted his marching up and down the aisles of the room and turned on his heel.
Yes?
I forgot my pencil, suh, would you happen to have ah spare? the boy said in his most proper English.
Ah spare? Ah spare?
Everyone was ready for an explosion. No one forgot their pencil and asked a proctor to supply one for them. This boy would have had a better chance whispering to someone close by and praying he didn’t get kicked out of the room. Now he was sure to fail the exam before it even began.
But then the examiner took a closer look at the boy.
Wah is yuh name? the proctor asked.
Rudallsingh, suh, the boy said, puffing out his chest a bit.
As in Doctor Rudallsingh?
E is my faddah, suh.
The tension dissipated. He was a golden boy.
A A ah din recognize yuh foh ah second, boi. Come come come, ah hah ah extra one right hyah.
People watched him with envy as he was invited to the front of the class and instructed to choose what he wanted from the desk drawer. Then as the Rudallsingh boy walked back to his desk he gave his friends a smile and a wink, mouthing, Ah get away wid it.
Deciding she’d rather use the washroom now than wait till after, Arya slowly put one arm in the air, calculating that this was the best time to interrupt since their proctor had a smile on his face.
What? Yuh wantah pencil too? Yuh tink ah is ah pencil faktry awah? Puh dung yuh hand one time, he said.
Arya sat the exam, and while her second time was a success, she didn’t perform as well as she’d hoped, her scores qualifying her only for Sangre Grande Junior Secondary School, a bottom-tier facility where most people flunked or dropped out. On the day results were posted, Arya watched her fellow classmates hug one another and either whisper or scream which schools they passed for. The daughters of all the doctors, lawyers, and businessmen qualified for the top colleges—St. Augustine Girls High School and Lakshmi Girls Hindu College. Arya knew the uniforms of each school well: the red, black, and blue plaid sleeveless dress of SAGHS, pleated to the
knees, a belt looped low at the hip bones, a stark white shirt tucked neatly underneath, and the bright blue pleated skirt of LGHC, with a matching tie knotted around the stiff collar of a crisp white button-down shirt. They were both seven-year schools designed for eleven-to-seventeen-year-olds. Both schools accepted nothing less than excellence, and Arya, a year older than her peers after being left back, would never have been accepted to one of them, no matter how hard she tried.
Though she was disappointed with her results, Arya had no choice. She opted to attend the junior secondary school, along with other children from neighboring farms. She donned a dull blue skirt that turned grayer the more she ironed it, black sneakers, a striped tie, and a white shirt, untucked, since no one cared to correct them as in the prestigious schools, where they measured the length of girls’ skirts with a ruler.
—Ah still geh furduh dan Gramma, so dat keep meh goin, eh Krys, my mother says to me.
Sangre Grande Junior Secondary School, unlike more prestigious high schools and colleges, was split into morning and evening sessions. Students went to school Monday through Friday, for only half of the day.
—When yuh goh dey, says my mother, dey doh expek yuh toh amount toh anyting cause once we done foh de day is back toh wokin on de fahm. Dis halfaday schoolin is someting dey juss gih yuh toh hol.
Arya attended school diligently and worked toward taking another exam that would allow her to pursue her studies at another college. She was determined to climb the ladder of schools, desperate to escape the bottom rung she was dangling off of, where there would only be donkeys, chickens, and cows in her future.
At sixteen Arya was eligible to take the transfer exam, which she did, and passed. She entered Northeastern College, a full-time, seven-year school located in the heart of Sangre Grande. All-day school was a luxury for Arya; she could finally leave the rural part of her life in the past. For two years she could attend Northeastern and be a full-time student, be taken seriously, choose areas of study she found interesting and pursue whatever she desired.
But her first day on that campus proved to be a rude awakening, showing her just how determined she would have to be to escape her father and his farm. Arya wasn’t allowed to choose her courses when she arrived at school. Of all the programs she imagined—industrial arts, home economics, mathematics, English, chemistry, biology, physics—she was placed in the agricultural science program.
—Dey gih me dat, yuh know? Wah ahgo end up doin wid agriculture? my mother asks me. Become ah farmer, dah is wah. And foh two yeahs ah hah to take dese damn classes, dese subjexs meh eh wan no part ah.
Along with the others transferring from a junior secondary school, Arya was grouped into areas no one wanted. Despite having a natural affinity for mathematics and enjoying English and history, she would never get a choice. Her natural abilities would never be recognized because the system—the country—needed farmers, and this was how they kept lower classes in those roles. Arya was in contention with a system she didn’t yet understand.
That first day, after she found out what the next two years would hold for her, Arya walked out of school with slumped shoulders, her bookbag straps slipping until she dropped it on the ground and kicked it against a tree. Guttural sounds escaped her lips, but did nothing to abate her frustration. From the pocket of her skirt, Arya counted out her money for the bus ride home. Dragging her bag behind her, she headed to the washroom building to relieve herself before traveling.
As she approached the bathrooms, Arya recognized a trio of menacing black girls harassing a lone Indian girl. They lived in a small place, so even though they’d never been to school together, Arya knew these girls from the area. They were troublemakers, and Arya had had run-ins with them before. The racial tension between blacks and Indians was charged, often ending in brawls. Arya, friendless, was conscious of this and tried hard to avoid such scuffles.
The Indian girl’s books were strewn across the courtyard, the ribbons in her hair undone; the three bullies tugged her skirt and blouse, rubbing the material distastefully between their fingers. The only available exit now was past the washrooms, and to get to it Arya had to pass them. In tears, the girl gave them her money, no doubt her allowance for the week. There were no teachers to help, and unless she was well connected to someone at the school, no one would have stepped in anyway. Arya knew better than to get involved, so, as quietly as she could manage, she slipped around the building and tried to slink past the gate. If she ran and they saw her, it would only excite them more.
The girls’ hisses and sneers stopped. They were upon her. Ay ya yaaai, look who dey, the ringleader squealed, is one ah dem Singh snakes from up een de bush. Bullies often used their last name in conjunction with a snake to belittle them. Too much snake Singh-in up een dey, the ringleader continued. We juss hah toh help geh rid ah dem. Cut off dey head. One. By. One. Footsteps thumped past them; the other girl ran away, leaving behind her scattered belongings, blue ribbons flapping at the ends of her two long braids. Arya was tempted to point out that the girl they had been terrorizing had gotten away, but figured that would only intensify their interest in her.
Look who dey, said one, meh din know yuh comin toh dis school now.
Lil miss ting, said two, ah remembah she wid she bicycle.
T-T-T, said the third, whey yuh tink yuh goin eh?
—Krys gyul, my mother says to me, dat is what dey use toh call meh when ah was youngah. Triple T, T-T-T. Foh tin, tall, and terrible nah. When ah tell yuh meh hate dat name. Meh hate it. Meh hate it so much. Is cause ah was tall tall tall, tallah dan everybody.
Even before Arya was a teenager, she’d done what Trinis would describe as shoot up like a bamboo. Her legs and arms unfurled from her body in the same way the mass of curls atop her head tumbled down around her shoulders. It was the kind of growth spurt that caused immediate awkwardness. Unsure of what to do with her limbs, she stumbled around for a while, tripping over her feet, knocking things over with her arms, making her the butt of jokes both at home and at school. And once something like that happened it became a haunt till long after it passed, people remembering plagues and never allowing them to disappear, holding on to days and memories long gone, preserving some things that should never be preserved.
By then, Arya had grown into her limbs but still towered over all of her classmates. This paired with her shyness made her slump and draw her shoulders inward, giving her the mark of defeat; it was this that bullies preyed on. She’d always escaped minor scuffles with nothing more than a torn uniform and a thumping heartbeat, using those long limbs to kick dust behind her or to pull herself into branches overhead so she could hide. She almost never had anything that anyone coveted before. But miles from home they knew she’d have money for travel, and this was the first time she’d been in the girls’ reach with no witnesses.
Arya ran. They followed her until she was tired. The four of them traced the meandering roadside beneath the pulsing Caribbean sun. The trio stopped only to fill their uniform skirts with pebbles. They flung them at her, whipped her bare arms and legs, her unprotected head. Arya hunched over, ground her teeth, and walked faster, pumping her legs, feeling the burn spiral her inner thighs. She could have tried outrunning them if she hadn’t already felt so tired, so defeated.
Wah appen, yuh nasty lil snake? one said, the same annoying play on her last name, Singh. We ent see yuh long time.
Yeah gyul, whey yuh hidin from we? Yuh tink yuh bettah dan we eh, said another.
All allyuh Indian de same, said the third. Come hyah lemmeh set yuh straight.
—Tings between Indians and Africans back den was bhad, Krys, my mother says. Dem Indians an dem eh backward nah, dey targetin innocent black gyuls and dem and beatin dem up de same way, tawntin dem, tellin dem dey skin dutty and hair hard.
They ran up to her; two yanked both her arms while the third tried to pry open her fingers that held the money. Arya refused to open her hands, and the third girl pummeled her. Still sh
e refused to let go.
No! Arya screamed. Her defiance infuriated them further. Their cuffing intensified. They scratched her face, tore out her hair. She blinked away blood pouring down her face as she rammed them with her shoulders.
—Ah feel de root and dem come out een clump Krys, my mother tells me. Meh fraid toh watch de blood dat come out meh head. Black an Indian, di hate we hah foh each uddah on de island run deep. Always fightin, nevah mixin. Every time African geh into ah fight wid Indian is de hair and skin dey goin foh. And de Indians and dem eh no backward nah, prancin arung sayin dey hair soff soff soff and dey complexion light. Meh eh know why dese gyuls and dem targettin meh so. Meh eh do dem nutten. Only ting meh could tink of is cause ah was quiet and scared-y. Ah di always keep toh mehself, no friend or nutten like dat.
Arya rolled herself into a ball trying to protect her body. They kicked, slapped, and bit. One of the girls pummeled her face, and for a second she lifted her thumb away from her clenched fist and it grazed Arya’s mouth. Instinctively Arya chomped down. The girl bucked and screamed, tried to pull her hand away, slapped at Arya’s head with her other hand.
—Ah wasn’t lettin go foh nutten, my mother tells me. Ah geh dat blasted ting in meh mout so ah hol on strong. Gimmeh de chance an ah wuddah bite off de whole ting.
The other two girls reacted to the screams of Meh fingah! De bitch bitin meh fingah. Dis muddahcunt bitin meh fingah! by dropping blows on her jaw, but Arya flung her head side to side like a rabid beast. When they did force the girl’s thumb out, blood sprayed from around the base of it.
Yuh nasty lil coolie, the girls screamed, yuh muddahcunt yuh! Yuh goan get it now, yuh tink we playin? And we go take all yuh money. They encircled her again. They spat on her. Arya felt their fingers and nails sinking into her. She kept her head down and her eyes closed, her hands and arms latched around herself. She was certain they would kill her. They pushed and shoved, but she didn’t budge. Her eyes remained closed. She had no sense of where she was on her route home. If someone could only pass by and distract them long enough so she could escape.
Secrets We Kept Page 6
