So then I asked him, “What is your life worth?” Then, Philip turned the camera on Troy. Oh, Monique, that kid just amazes me with how much he takes in and how it lives inside him. Troy looked right into the camera and told us he’s just discovering what worth means. He said back in Kathmandu, when I took them to the orphanage and they were asked if they would please write to one of the kids when they got back home. Troy said he was told by one of the instructors at the orphanage that sometimes becoming a pen pal to one of these kids helps educate them, gives them hope and could maybe save them from a life of poverty. But mostly, the man had said, it gave them a feeling of self-worth knowing that someone from our country would take time for them.
Then, with this pained look on his face, Troy told us that afterwards when they were kicking the soccer ball around with all those kids, he kept looking at each one of those orphans and thinking about how he had to pick a kid to write to. He knew he couldn’t write to all of them, so how would he decide? Who should he give hope to? Who is worth it? And as soon as he said the word “worth,” he stopped himself...
In that moment, it was as if that little ten year old boy scribbling away in his notebook had come back to talk to me. Troy said that it seems to be getting harder as he gets older to find the right balance of worth; it just seems to constantly change throughout his life. What he once thought was worth so much, means nothing to him now...and then he told me that was the reason he asked me if climbing a mountain was worth it.
“I’m sorry. You’re right, Nelson, that was sanctimonious psycho crap and nothing could be more true. I don’t know you and it’s true I am here because of me and because of something I see. I mean, maybe half the kids I’m trying to help don’t even need help. I just see what I see and...”
“We all are what we see, RobertO. Why the hell do you think I’m here? I’m here ‘cause of everything I see and saw. You gotta fucking react to the world you see. Look, I am here because of what I see. And if I don’t react to the world I see, I don’t survive.”
They both turned when the sound of a woman crying filled the room. A young pregnant woman was crying and the inmate she was visiting was trying to console her.
“Is it okay that I ask you a question?” Robert asked.
“Look, I’m here. What you want? Me to hold your hand? Talk already.” Though Nelson still sounded impatiently abrupt, Robert couldn’t help but feel this was as friendly as Nelson got.
“Okay...” Robert said. “Well, do you think anyone can change from all that they see?”
“What?” Nelson said with a perplexed look on his face. “Can you ask me that question in English?”
“Sorry, all right, okay...Have you ever heard that saying ‘Watch your thoughts, they become your words...and your words become actions...actions become your habits, and habits become your character...which becomes your destiny.’ Did you ever hear that, Nelson?”
An angry voice interrupted them. “I’m not going to repeat this, Garcia. There is no touching! Got it?”
Nelson and Robert looked over at the guard, who had just gotten up and was berating the prisoner who was holding his pregnant girlfriend’s hand.
The guard physically pulled the inmate’s hand away from the young woman’s hand. She was now crying uncontrollably. Robert gave a supportive smile to the inmate, urging him with his eyes to just let it go and to try not to respond to the guard.
Robert looked back to Nelson. “You want to clock that guard one, don’t you?”
Nelson looked as dangerous as ever when he nodded.
“See, that’s exactly what I’m saying...You have to watch your thoughts so they don’t always become your actions.”
“I know, I got that. So...” Nelson clenched his fists a little tighter and watched the guard walk back to his Sudoku.
“You say you have to react to what you see, right? And like the saying goes, if what we see becomes our thoughts and then most likely it becomes our words and then they probably turn into our actions, right?...Like now, if that was your girlfriend crying and the guard did that, what would you do?”
“Fucking label him one.”
“And how does that work out for you each time?”
Nelson didn’t answer and instead just let out an impatient grunt.
“So, you do what you always do right? You hit another guard? Is that who you have become, Nelson? Every time you see something you think is unjust, you throw a punch and label the guy? SO...does all the injustice just come to a complete stop after you do that?”
Nelson’s whole body tightened, as a predator’s does when preparing to pounce on its prey. He didn’t appreciate Robert’s question, and his impulse at being challenged was to label Robert right now. But that would mean Robert was right. It would mean that he was someone who answered everything with violence. So instead, Nelson took a deep breath and closed his eyes and leaned his head back.
The sounds of the crying girlfriend suddenly stopped and turned into a happy girlish giggle. Nelson’s eyes snapped open and saw the inmate had found a way to make his girlfriend laugh by making funny faces, like a father would make for his young child.
“Argh!” Nelson shook his head in disgust. The inmate was now cupping his hands in front of his face and make childish peek-a-boo faces at his girlfriend. Nelson sharply turned back to Robert. “Yeah...well, right now I’d like to punch that freaking idiot’s face for treating his woman like she’s some kind of mindless baby!”
“But what made him do that, Nelson? He’s reacting to the guard, right? So, what does he see? Does he see a guard on whom he can maybe get in one good punch, or a girl that’s crying and needs him? He chose to see that comforting his girlfriend was more important, didn’t he?”
“So what? That doesn’t make him a man.”
“Yeah, then what does it make him?”
Nelson just shrugged.
“Maybe he’s like you, Nelson. Maybe he always gets mad in this kind of situation and so he just hits the guard and then...well, then it ends up worse. But this time, maybe...just maybe, he saw his girlfriend was more important to him than his anger towards the guard was. See, he had to change the way he thought about it so he could change the way he reacts to it. By changing the way he saw and thought about the situation, he changed his own actions. In the end, who knows, maybe he changed his destiny.”
Nelson looked over at the guard and then at the couple. “So, you think if I stop wanting to beat the shit out of that idiot for treating his girlfriend like some retard, then...”
“No, Nelson, CHANGE...change the way you think about the whole thing! Look further than you usually do. Try to see something more. That’s what he did! Ask yourself why your first thought is always to hit!”
“I don’t know why. Maybe that’s my destiny! And you know what? Maybe nothing can ever fucking change that.” For the first time, Nelson sounded like he was looking for an answer.
“Come on, Nelson; you’re too young to believe that!”
“You got no fucking idea what I believe or what kind of choices I have to make! And you know fucking what? Some things...well, some things don’t ever, ever change...no matter how much you...”
Nelson stopped himself. Was he going to say “try,” or maybe “hope?” It didn’t matter, as his ache was obvious. That was the first time Robert had ever heard Nelson complain about his plight in life and thought maybe he did want to change it.
“Look, Nelson, you’re right. I have absolutely no idea the choices you have had to make in your life, but I do know...No, you know what? Forget it.”
Nelson was looking at his hands as if he was questioning what they were going to do next.
“Look, Nelson, when I asked you how long you have left in here, I asked that because I need some help from someone like you. I’ve been working with some schools and some groups from your neighbourhood. It’s a leadership kind of thing but also something to stop kids from joining gangs and, well, just making it safer out there...and
I was wondering if you...”
Nelson’s calm suddenly exploded.
“No! You hear me? No! So shut it! You think any of that crap works? Those fucking govern-mental programs...those damn programs—they build more gangs than they stop...They make everybody weak...dependent!”
“That’s because we don’t have anyone running those programs who has actually lived it like you did, leading the...Wait. What did you call it?” Robert asked with a grin. “‘Govern-mental?’ I like that, half those programs are mental. Mental because we don’t go about it the right way.”
“Are you fucking deaf? I said shut it!”
“Come on, please...Listen, I honestly think someone like you could change...”
Nelson stood up. “Do you know how everyone sees someone workin’ for those—”
“—Sit it down, Dupree!” The guard looked up from his Sudoku.
“It’s okay, Nelson, please sit down,” Robert pleaded, not wanting to lose Nelson like this.
But Nelson continued, “Like fucking traitors, snitches...They end up betraying everyone that helped them survive so far. And how the fuck do they think they all survived? They survived because of their brothers, because of their gangs...and no one has ever died on my watch. NO ONE!”
“Sit down, Dupree,” the guard sneered. “Don’t make me come over.”
Nelson leaned over the table close to Robert. “And hear this! Don’t think I could ever become one of those...one of those bastards, ‘cause I’m no fucking traitor!”
Nelson turned and walked towards the guard to show him he was leaving.
“Traitor to what, Troy?” Robert called out. “You think you’d become a traitor by...maybe stopping another young kid from getting strung out on drugs? What, Troy? A traitor by preventing some kid from spending his life here in some prison?”
Nelson took a step back to Robert and raised his fist. Robert flinched. But still said the one thing he knew Troy didn’t want to hear.
“Do you think you’d be called a traitor if you helped stop some young kid from having to watch his own brother get shot down in the street?”
“Dupree, don’t move!” The guard pulled out his baton and held it against Nelson’s chest. He turned to Robert. “Mister, I’m going to have to ask you to leave. All right, Dupree, put your hand down. Come on! Let’s move it outta here.”
Nelson relaxed his hand and smiled to the guard. “Yeah, let’s do that. Nothing for me here anyway.”
He and the guard started towards the door, stopping only momentarily at the table where the girl was still laughing from the inmate’s peek-a-boo faces.
“Stop that shit, man! She’s a fucking woman, not some baby in diapers!”
Nelson then looked back at Robert. “See, I didn’t hit anybody, did I?” And then, after a perverse and empty laugh, Nelson said, “Oh my God, did I just change my destiny?”
You know, I often think about that jail visit and that word: “destiny.” Was I destined to meet these three...or them to meet me? Is there really some hidden power that shapes our future? Can we truly shape our destiny? Because if it is our destiny, aren’t we going there anyway???
Strange to think it was only about a year and half ago when Troy stormed out of that visiting room. Sometimes on the journey with him, I’ve often felt a little ashamed of myself. Could I have tried harder to find him after his brother was killed? Should I have gone back to see him again at the prison? Did I give up on him??? It is kind of like...the climb on Denali, when we were at high camp. And during that whole climb we had such unpredictable weather, but then we got lucky and we had this one window—this one and only chance—to get to the top. But at the same time, another team who climbed with us the whole time had a pretty sick climber and they needed to get him down. They didn’t need our help, they didn’t even ask for it. And so, as we set off for the summit, they started their descent. We made it to the top and that climber died on the way down. Apparently there wasn’t anything anyone could do, but what has always gnawed at me forever is that I didn’t even offer to help. If they had asked I would have...but deep down, I was hoping they wouldn’t ask me.
It’s a question...I wonder what means more: when you are in a hurry to get somewhere, then you see someone slip on the ice and you stop to help them...or when you are just on a stroll with nowhere to be and you see someone slip on the ice and you help them? Does the good deed mean more when you are in a hurry and got somewhere to go?
Anyway...not sure I can answer that any better now, but I know it didn’t feel right...
It was called a “block party” and it was in the neighbourhood that Robert had been working in for quite some time. Some of the women from the local community centre started the idea. “Bring the family, bring your barbecue, meet your neighbours,” was what the poster said.
The centre had raised enough money to supply hotdogs and burgers and some cold drinks. By eight p.m. there were almost two hundred people gathered on the street and sidewalks. Music played from some of the windows that were left open in the townhouses that lined the street. Kids chased each other with water guns. Young mothers held kids on their hips and gossiped. Teenagers hung out flirting and laughing. A variety of basketball and soccer balls bounced in every direction, threatening to spill cans of soda and knock over condiments in their haphazard flight. The barbecue grills firing up filled the street with that early summer evening aroma, an unmistakable invitation to kick back and relax.
Malvern District was one of the poorest parts of the city, filled with mostly housing projects and tall dilapidated apartment complexes. These streets had more than their fair share of crime and violence and there weren’t many festive nights like this one. On a rare night like this, it felt like people were living in the land of plenty: living a life of celebration, music and free food. Everyone was playing in the streets and surrounded by the joyous sound of laughter.
Robert had just set up the barbecue grill he had brought from home with the help of Monique and Jenny. The Sanchez’s were not hard to spot in this dark skinned neighbourhood, which consisted of a mixture of Nigerians, Jamaicans, Trinidadians, Pakistanis and Indians. But today, neither colour nor creed mattered, neighbours simply blended together in celebration.
“Where you want this, Robert?” asked Mertle Bolt in her delightful Trinidadian accent. Behind Mertle were her two teenage daughters. They were half-carrying and half-dragging a huge cooler containing meats for the barbecue.
“Oh, here just beside me is fine. Thanks, kids.” Robert laughed, seeing the two girls panting as they were relieved of their meat carrying duty. “Oh, hey, Mertle, I’d like you to meet my wife, Monique, and my daughter, Jenny.”
Monique put her hand out to shake but Mertle held her arms open for a hug instead. Monique laughed and walked into Mertle’s hug. Her tiny body was lost in Mertle’s heavy-set frame. As they hugged, Mertle looked at Jenny, opened one arm and gestured for Jenny to join in. “Get in here, girl!” Jenny shyly moved into the woman’s arms beside her mother. It looked as if Mertle could have put three more Jenny-sized girls in that hug.
“Well, look at you two,” Mertle said, putting her arms around both Jenny and Monique. “Pretty girls you have, Mr. Robert. And I was thinking all this time you were lying about having a family.”
Both Monique and Jenny looked at Robert, surprised.
“Oh no, you two don’t start letting your minds be playing things.” Mertle laughed. “It’s just that he spends so much time here helping us and the kids, being with our families, so it was hard imagining he had any time to be familying with anyone else is all. Oh, and these are my daughters, Shania and Tenesia.”
Mertle’s two daughters raised their hands slightly and waved. “Hey, why don’t you two take Jenny and show her around? I’m sure she ain’t interested in hanging around with us old folks.”
“Okay, you wanna come?” Shania asked Jenny, who looked at her and then her mom and dad.
“It’s fine, Jen...Mom and
me can do the cooking,” Robert said.
“Mom and I.” Monique turned to Robert, correcting his English.
Mertle burst out laughing. “Thank God, girl, you said it! I’ve been wanting to get your man to speak right for months now but always kept my mouth shut ‘cause I been afraid he might take it the wrong way.”
“Well, you better get going, Jen, before you need to be fixed by these two English majors!” Robert winked at Jenny.
“See you later Mom, Dad.” Jenny and the two girls drifted down the street into a throng of teenagers who were playing a game of basketball without nets. The girls stopped the game and were introducing Jenny. In a matter of moments Jenny was on a team and playing a game that looked more like keep away than any kind of basketball.
“Well, nice meeting you, Monique. I’ve gotta get some more meat for Jessie. Look around Robert, will you? Look at ‘em, a lot more people than we expected...We did good, Robert...We did real good...” Mertle smiled as she waddled off.
Monique turned to Robert. “She’s exactly like you said, Bobby, and you’re right about those hugs. Even though I thought she might cut off my air supply, when you’re in her arms, it really feels like it’s your mom hugging you after a bad day.”
“And I can’t tell you how many times she has helped kids who don’t have mothers to feel that way, Mon. I really don’t know what Malvern would be like without Mertle Bolt.”
“Hey, you got anything ready, mister?” came a little voice behind Robert.
Robert turned around and saw a little boy holding a baby. The boy couldn’t have been more than eight and the baby looked to be maybe six to eight months old. Monique squeezed Robert’s arm tightly to suppress her reaction. Although the image of this little boy holding his baby brother might be cute, it was the way he was dressed in dirty clothes and the fully stained blanket his brother was wrapped in that had Monique grabbing her husband’s arm.
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