Broken Together

by K. S. Ruff

  Cory nodded. “It’s not like Shae or I could argue those points. It has to be someone who’s white.”

  “If this situation were playing out in real life, we’d assign co-mediators whose race or ethnicity mirrored the conflicting parties. We will need a black and a white mediator as well as a black and white student if we’re going to model this appropriately,” Shae stated. “Think about the advice you would give our students if they were going to mediate the conflict between their two political groups. You’d recommend they co-mediate with a member from each group.”

  “You’re right, Cory agreed.

  “I think that’s a terrible plan,” Rafael interjected. “If Kristine behaves like a racist and acts convincingly enough to drive this point home, those students might think she hates black people. That could make her a target while she’s here. The same holds true for Sammi if she argues against equal education for black people.”

  “We’ll make sure the students understand this was an act when we debrief.” I knew Rafael was right, but I also knew this conflict would resonate with our students better than any other conflict we could possibly dream up.

  “What if Brogan and I act as the white students who are fighting for segregation and Kadyn and Jase act as the black students who are fighting for desegregation? That way, all four of you can mediate the conflict,” Aidan suggested.

  “I’m game,” Jase stated.

  “Me too,” Kadyn agreed.

  “We can’t ask you to do that,” Cory objected.

  “You’re not asking, we’re offering,” Brogan insisted. “I would just ask that you provide the same debrief afterwards, so the students understand this is an act… that neither of us would advocate for such a hateful thing.”

  Sammi and Cory exchanged worried looks.

  Shae bit into a plantain chip. “This wouldn’t be the first country we had to flee when things got ugly.”

  Kadyn laughed.

  Rafael groaned.

  “Okay, Sammi and I will write a one page briefing. We’ll distribute the briefing to the students so they understand the history behind the conflict. I’d like you two,” Cory pointed to me and Shae, “to coach these guys.” He gestured toward Brogan, Aidan, Kadyn, and Jase.

  “You should include all the really ugly stuff… the civil war, the KKK, and the church burnings,” I replied. “Those students should be horrified before the fishbowl exercise even begins.

  Cory nodded his agreement. “We’ll proceed with our instruction on theories and strategies tomorrow morning. After we break for lunch, we’ll distribute the briefing and begin the fishbowl exercise. If all goes well, we’ll mediate their conflict on Tuesday. We’ll hold off on the simulations covering vigilante violence and the excessive use of force by law enforcement until we’re done mediating their conflict.”

  “When we mediate their conflict, we should encourage them to mediate from the table,” Shae advised. “Each student should bear some responsibility for mediating that conflict. That experience will help them mediate that very same conflict among their peers.”

  “I couldn’t agree more.” Suddenly famished, I dug into the ground nut stew. The stew tasted like peanut butter, but there were chunks of tomato, diced chicken, and spices that added a fair amount of heat.

  We reflected on the day’s events while we ate. Sammi and Cory went to work in the business center shortly after dinner. The rest of us commandeered chairs on the opposite side of the pool so the other hotel guests wouldn’t overhear us practice the fishbowl exercise.

  Rafael and I lingered by the pool long after our friends retired. A few random couples remained on the deck, enjoying the balmy night.

  “I love how passionately you fight to right the wrongs in this world,” Rafael whispered admiringly. He was sprawled out on a lounge chair, absently caressing my arm while I snuggled against his chest.

  “You’re the same way.” Our entire circle of friends seemed to be hardwired that way.

  He drew me to my feet as he stood. “Dance with me.”

  I eyed the other patrons nervously. “The other guests…”

  He tucked my hand against his chest as he began to sway. “… will see two people who are deeply in love sharing a romantic moment.”

  I relaxed into his arms. I felt exhausted, but I was far too nervous about the training to sleep. “I’m worried about tomorrow.”

  “Don’t be,” Rafael whispered. “God’s going to work a miracle, just you wait and see.”

  * * * * *

  The tension eased from my shoulders. I loved our hotel room. The glazed porcelain tiles looked like hard wood floors. A large contemporary mural hung above the bed against a dark gray wall. The bed linens were soft and luxurious, the mattress so comfortable I was secretly plotting to take it home with me.

  “Well?” Rafael demanded.

  “I don’t know.” I couldn’t think. The man was sitting on my bottom massaging my back while I was lying half naked in bed.

  His hands dropped to my sides. “Maybe this isn’t the best time for a massage.”

  “No! I… I need a massage.” Every muscle in my body ached from that fishbowl exercise. Brogan, Aidan, Kadyn, and Jase took their roles very seriously. They didn’t allow Cory or me any slack when we mediated their conflict. Thankfully, Sammi and Shae joined the conflicting parties so they could demonstrate how to mediate from the table. They shared their parties’ positions, but they proved more willing to compromise as the moderates on each side.

  Rafael’s fingers poured into my shoulders like liquid gold. “Then tell me how you’re feeling about today.”

  “I feel cautiously optimistic. They understood the theories and the strategies we discussed. The fishbowl exercise was a little intense. I thought we might lose some of our students when Kadyn threw that chair.” He was so convincing, they’d forgotten it was an act.

  “That was your defining moment,” Rafael claimed. “I could see the light bulbs clicking on with the vast majority of students. Some looked embarrassed and ashamed.”

  “I hope that will inspire them to seek change.” My eyes slid closed. Rafael’s thumbs were coaxing the stress from my lower back. “This massage feels heavenly. Please don’t stop.”

  Rafael chuckled. “What’s your plan for tomorrow?”

  “We’re going to tear down enemy images, establish common ground, and build trust… although not necessarily in that order.”

  He kneaded my arms. “How do you achieve that?”

  I melted into the pillow. “We’re going to identify all of the interests, values, and needs they have in common. We’ll have them share what they respect and admire about one another. Then, we’re going to blindfold them, stand them on a chair, and have them fall back in one another’s arms.”

  His hands stalled. “You cannot be serious.”

  “As a heart attack.” I smiled against the pillow. “We can’t mediate their conflict until we change their perspectives on one another. Trust me, the mediation will prove far more effective if we improve their perceptions.”

  “What’s the end goal?” Rafael wondered.

  “We’re going to ask them to establish some strategies for reducing violence and improving their school,” I answered.

  He loosened another knot in my shoulder. “What about their political ideologies?”

  “Their political ideologies should have no bearing on the quality of their education or the security of their school. If they want to establish a student government, then we’ll encourage a power sharing arrangement. If either party feels the need to prove their superiority, then they’ll be encouraged to do so through good deeds, not through violence or intimidation.”

  Rafael laughed. “God, I love the way you think.”

  I rolled over so I could face him. “I love the way your hands feel on my body. Kiss me.”

  “Don’t tempt me,” he warned. “You don’t know how enticing it is to have a brilliant, scantily clad peacekeeper pinned beneath me.�
��

  I bit back a smile. “There’s nothing wrong with kissing. Kissing is perfectly acceptable as long as it doesn’t lead to other things.” I now knew how Eve felt when she offered Adam the apple.

  Rafael linked his fingers in mine before pressing my hands into the pillow. “Then I shall kiss you senseless.” He trailed warm, wet kisses along my collar bone, my shoulders, neck, and jaw before delving deep inside my mouth. Within seconds, I was lost in the most intimate kiss I’d ever known.

  * * * * *

  I popped the lid off the Expo marker. “Do you want to be part of the problem or part of the solution?”

  “The solution!” the students exclaimed. I’d posed this question so many times, it had become our new mantra.

  My hand hovered over the Post-it easel. “Then I want each of you to identify three things that you personally can do to improve your school.”

  Their hands shot into the air.

  Shae called on the students while I recorded their suggestions.

  “I can organize a fund raiser dat will enable us to restore dee hostels.”

  “I can clean up litter.”

  “I know how to paint.”

  “I can solicit donations from local businesses.”

  “I can encourage oder students to help in our university newsletter.”

  “I can post someding on Facebook.”

  “I want to start a peer mediation program.”

  “What about a peer mentoring program?”

  “We can do bod!”

  I ripped sheet after sheet off the easel. Cory and Sammi posted them at eye level on every wall in the room. Once the ideas were on the table we established committees and strategies for recruiting other students. Our brainstorming session ended the day on such a positive note, the students didn’t want to leave.

  “We will firm up our plans and establish a timeline for accomplishing your goals in the morning,” Cory assured them. “Then, we’re going to strengthen your mediation skills. Wear comfortable clothes tomorrow!”

  We exchanged glances when the students filed out of the room.

  “I can’t believe how well that went,” Shae whispered.

  “Me either,” Sammi confessed.

  “They were on fire,” Cory agreed. “Not a single one of those students wanted to maintain the status quo. They want change. Better yet, they want to be that change.” His eyes met mine. “Great mantra by the way.”

  “Thanks.” I smiled, thoroughly pleased with how the mediation had gone.

  Dr. Jalloh rose from his chair in the back of the room. He’d been silently observing the process with Kadyn, Rafael, and Jase. “Do you have any idea what you have done?”

  My teammates and I froze.

  His eyes glimmered with unshed tears. “I have never seen my students as excited as dis. You have inspired a movement, a movement dat could change everyding for our university.”

  “A great deal of work remains to be done,” Cory warned. “Your students are energized now, but they’ll become discouraged when challenges arise. Can you identify areas where the faculty, the administration, and the alumni can help?”

  Dr. Jalloh nodded. “Yes. I will solicit deir help tonight.”

  “We’d like to hold a small awards ceremony, acknowledging our students’ efforts on Friday. Would it be possible to hold this award ceremony at the school?” I inquired.

  He fished the cell phone from his pocket. “I will see if dee amphideater is free. May I invite dee media?”

  “Not if it puts our students at risk,” Sammi replied. “The APC and the SLPP have been frequenting the campus, fueling enemy images, and inciting violence. I’m concerned that our students will face some backlash when these political groups discover they are collaborating with one another.” The political groups the students had formed on campus were linked to these larger political groups. Most of our students bore scars from cigarette burns and lacerations as a result of their initiation into these groups. A refusal to join could compromise their ability to secure jobs once they graduated from school.

  Dr. Jalloh frowned. “Dis could be a problem eider way. I will consult wid dee provost on dis. I do not wish to put dee students at risk.”

  “We’d love for you to join us tomorrow,” Shae said. “Perhaps you can advise the students on how the faculty and the alumni can help.”

  Dr. Jalloh nodded. He shook our hands and said goodbye.

  Rafael, Kadyn, and Jase joined us when Dr. Jalloh walked away.

  I gave Rafael a hug. “I’m starving. Are you guys up for an early dinner?”

  “Absolutely,” Jase answered.

  “I could eat,” Kadyn agreed.

  Rafael tucked me beneath his arm. “Momka recommended a restaurant a few blocks from here. Should we give that a try?”

  “Sounds good.” Shae reached for her satchel.

  “I’ll carry that.” Kadyn eased the satchel out of her hand and anchored it over his shoulder.

  Sammi linked arms with Cory as we filed out the door. “Are we driving or walking?”

  “Driving,” Jase answered decidedly. He called our drivers while Rafael texted Brogan and Aidan.

  Emmanuel waved us over when we entered the lobby. “I have learned dee meaning of Shae’s name. Shae means courteous.”

  Shae’s cheeks turned the prettiest shade of pink.

  “That fits her well,” I assured Emmanuel.

  Within minutes we were being seated at Tessa’s. Tessa’s was owned by Momka’s Aunt Theresa. Her son, Ivan, served as her co-chef. Since this was a family owned restaurant, and Momka and Amad were quite obviously family, they joined us.

  I ordered the Chicken Shawarma, which was served on pita bread with a fresh cucumber and tomato relish and tahini sauce. Shae ordered grilled chicken with Jollof Rice and plantains. Everyone else ordered seafood.

  We’d barely placed our orders when Momka and Amad pulled a bunch of board games from a storage closet in the back of the restaurant. They deposited Sorry, Monopoly, Connect Four, and Scrabble on top of our table. “Tonight is game night,” Momka announced.

  “Dibs on Scrabble!” Shae and I exclaimed as one.

  Kadyn reached for the box. “Rafael, would you like to join us?”

  He smiled. “Sure. Why not?”

  Sammi sifted through the remaining boxes. “Momka, would you and Amad like to play Sorry with Cory and me?”

  “Yes,” Amad answered.

  “Certainly,” Momka agreed.

  Brogan eyed Aidan and Jase questioningly.

  Jase grabbed the Monopoly box. “I get to be the car.”

  “As long as I’m the banker,” Aidan countered.

  Brogan’s expression grew pained.

  The waiter distributed three baskets of rice bread between the board games.

  Sammi shuffled cards while the guys set up their pawns. “Do you want to go to the market tomorrow?”

  “I’d like to pick up some souvenirs.” Shae handed me the bag after counting out her tiles.

  “Me too. Are the markets still open after four o’clock?” I asked Momka.

  He nodded. “Yes, dee market is open until six o’clock.”

  Cory tried the bread. “When do you want to go to the orphanage?”

  “Thursday after the training or Saturday morning appear to be our only options,” I noted with a frown. We were flying back to Portugal on Saturday and returning to Virginia on Sunday.

  “I’ll call the orphanage tomorrow morning to see what time works best for them,” Rafael offered.

  I rearranged my tiles while silently scoring my options. “Will you find out how many children they’re caring for? I want to make sure we have enough candy for the children at the orphanage before we distribute candy at the market.”

  Rafael nodded. He was too busy scrutinizing his tiles to respond.

  Our food arrived a few minutes later. We settled in to enjoy the traditional Sierra Leonean cuisine and a little friendly competition. Momka’s
aunt and his cousin, Ivan, stopped by our table to chat for a little while. They surprised us with Benny cakes for dessert. The atmosphere was so relaxing and fun we vowed to return the very next day.

  * * * * *

  “Kri?” Shae mewled. We were being swarmed by children in tattered clothes.

  “I told you this was a bad idea.” Jase was trying to establish some sort of perimeter around me that would keep the street children an arm’s distance away. Kadyn was guarding Shae in much the same way.

  Rafael chuckled. “They’re fine. The candy’s almost gone.” He snapped another picture with his cell phone.

  The children crammed the Starburst, Skittles, and Tootsie Pops inside their mouths. They were thoroughly confused by the Sour Patch Kids, but that confusion morphed into toothy smiles, wide eyes, and squeals of delight. Some of the children followed us through the market but most wandered away once they realized our bags were empty.

  The King Jimmy Market was a lively place. Brightly colored umbrellas and corrugated metal shaded the merchants’ tables. Still, poverty was reflected in the merchants’ faces, in the street children’s wary gazes, and in the skeletal frames of the dogs nosing the litter that lined the muddy passageways.

  Momka and Amad were serving as our honorary tour guides. Amad led us through a crumbling brick building where additional merchants were selling their wares. “Dee Portuguese built dis market in dee early nineteen hundreds. Dere have been no renovations by dee government since dat time.”

  Momka diverted us to a nearby tunnel. “King Jimmy Market was not always such a pleasant place. Dis market was once dee center of dee slave trade. Dousands of people were forced into dis tunnel in heavy leg irons and handcuffs.”

  Rafael and Jase edged closer to me when we entered the gloomy tunnel. Kadyn drew closer to Shae. Brogan and Aidan remained with Sammi and Cory, who were trailing behind us.

  Tears pricked my eyes. Centuries later, I could still feel the fear and the anguish of the people who were torn from their families and herded like cattle through this cramped space. My heart remained heavy despite the sunlight that greeted us on the other side.