Faith

I lost track of time. It feels like eternity realizing that most of the extraordinary memories were created right here on this very ground called home. And sitting here now, under the gentle shade of the pine tree, our favorite spot for the last 20 years, it all seems like yesterday.

Those were the days when we would sit here for hours sharing our day’s events, gazing down upon the splendid city that adopted us; while eating our favorite pies and pizzas. The two important “P’s” she would joke. How our relationship has evolved over the years and the bond that have thicken much beyond anything that even words cannot describe.

The day was Tuesday, in the Head Mistress’s room; my first school. I can never forget that day. I believe even Sheifield Grammar School has probably never experienced anything as rightfully daring as this one petite girl in her twenties showed that day. She was so furious the evening before, when I told her that after all the hours spent rehearsing and being chosen for the school play for the Annual School’s Day, our supervisor at the last moment decided not to include me in any of the events: simply because I did not fit in.

She broke all hell, protesting and pleading to the Head Mistress and the school fraternity, explaining how by their unreasonable and unjustifiable actions they were all becoming a part of the indifferent culture. That their lack of willingness to allow me, my right as a student, to equally participate in the annual school day program, shows their lack of commitment towards another human, embedding a terrible example on an innocent mind. I was only eight then. But the school was unshakeable and informed her that the only reason I was still a student at their glorious school was, that her father, Mr. Benedict Freeman, was an important Congressman of the town.

Faith had enough. I was in my room, the door closed and my head tugged tightly under the pillow; but, I could still hear them. Faith and Mr. Freeman, each trying to bring their point across, talking in high voices. I was scared. The argument sees no possibility of ending. The next morning, I woke up with dry tears on my cheeks. I also saw packed suitcases.

Faith and I stayed with Aunt Lucy in the city for a month. Faith was wary about the way Aunt Lucy’s girls treated me. There was not a single day that they appreciated me or even showered me with fake niceties. Faith soon found a separate one-bedroom apartment for us.

Faith’s relationship with Mr. Freeman remained sour for a long time. Mr. Freeman blamed me for distancing him from his only child. Faith stopped talking to her parents, because she said they were old school and could never understand the situation, and that pained her.

Faith was my comforter and protector. She would tell me every day that I was a blessing. It was only because people lived within a caged set of make-believe-world that the rarest of things scares them. She said it was not my fault but their lack of understanding since it was beyond their perfect social norm, and the only way they knew to deal with such situations was by suppressing it and turning a blind eye.

Faith never stopped looking for opportunities: a perfect place, where I could be myself, where in-discrepancy was far from sight. We moved from a smaller city to a metropolitan city. If she felt slight mistreatment towards me from school authorities or anyone for that matter, she would go and give them her piece of mind. It was overwhelming to have her backing me every time, but I did not want her to get into an argument with every person, who barks their opinion about my physicality.

I guessed she understood that too. She would encourage me to go out with my classmates to a party or go shopping, or just simply jag my laptop in a café by the street to do my homework. In a moment’s time though, I would soon glimpse her tiny Ford round the corner checking on me. For Faith, I was her world.

Faith had all the gifts of grace and intelligence. She was a talented golfer with a master’s degree in political science; an avid reader, who contributed often to the local newspaper. No doubt she had many admirers. But somehow she felt, they all lacked the patience in getting to know me. Back then, she also taught at the Sunday school.

It was while going to the Sunday school, that she caught sight of me at the Minister’s Office’s doorstep. Unfortunately, the office did not function on Sundays which though, fortunately, led me to the caring arms of Faith.

I was so tiny and fragile Faith told me. My hands were translucent that she feared she would break them. By destiny, she became my guardian from that day giving me a new life.

Faith was more than a mother to me. She was the whole reason that I, an untouchable and an ‘ugly white monster’ as they used to call me, can now lead a normal life teaching children across the globe through the aid of an agency, giving hope to many.

Hope, was what she believed in, and wanted me to be an epitome of. Hope Freeman, she would say calling out to me, you would be the beacon of light for all. My albinism never was as threatening as the lack of knowledge that the people had.

It’s a year now since Faith left for the heavenly abode. But I can still feel her presence here and her gentle touch. She was more real to me than any mother could have been. Faith and Hope are one she would say and with an everlasting love between them, we could never fail each other, were her words.