Arya, though frustrated, was determined to learn to drive and started to understand what she had to do after a week. Together, they forgot how this car came to them; they forgot their eldest brother was no longer at home, but was still hiding and depending on the kindness of others to shelter him.
—One munt di pass, yuh know, Krys, my mother says to me. One munt, she says again shaking her head. Rahul di gone foh dat long and who knows, Pappy was probably tryin toh find im de whole time, boh is was bess e din.
Rahul sent messages with his friends, begging to know if he could come home. The generosity of people was running thin, and he had nowhere else to go. Arya was never sure of her father’s frame of mind and therefore didn’t voice her opinion, while her siblings told Rahul enough time had passed and nothing had happened in his absence.
Rahul came back to the farm jubilant to see the familiar faces of his family. He returned when his father was away and joined Arya and Amrit in scrubbing the concrete floors just outside the house. They had every intention of racing down the hill to continue Arya’s driving lessons, but exchanged a look of understanding that said they couldn’t with Rahul in tow. They had no idea how he would react to them taking advantage of his misfortune, or if he’d try to take the car on another joyride once he found out it was still running.
Anxious to be away from their older brother, they both fabricated chores and took separate paths to the field, where Amrit hopped on the roof and whistled for Arya to start. Now Arya barely needed guidance as she navigated uprooted tree stumps and grass-covered holes. When they were done that day, Amrit and Arya scurried through the rest of their routine and dove into their room with the others. They were afraid of how their father would react when he discovered Rahul had returned. Time passed, and their silence was filled with the familiar sounds of night.
Nothing happened.
—We couldn’t believe it, Krys chile, says my mother, de boi come back and nutten, nutten from Mistah Shiva. Wasn’t like im nah, boh we take it when we get it.
YET BITTERNESS DESCENDED all around them as the relationship between Shiva and his eldest son quickly hardened. The accident wasn’t the only thing to blame, but they couldn’t seem to recover from this point. In the weeks after his return, neither one moved toward ameliorating their relationship, and so Rahul started looking for a way to leave.
—Tings di geh rheal bhad between dem, Krys, my mother tells me, everyting is ah beatin now, and e beatin ah big mahn so? Grampa din know how to communicate so e end up losin e chilren one by one.
Gita, the eldest of them all, ran away with a man two decades her senior. Soon after, she left Trinidad for Bermuda, trading one island for another. Rahul reached out to her, telling her he wanted to go to America. Gita explained to him it would be easier to get to America from Bermuda and advised him to join her before applying for a visa to enter the States.
Rahul was hellbent on leaving, focusing all his energy and time on plotting his escape. Arya saw this and was scared for her brother, but mingled with that fright was envy. She wanted to be able to leave the farm behind the way he could, but the rules throughout the islands were different for women. Right now, under the protection of her father, she was safe. Out in the open she didn’t know what could happen, and that scared her more than anything.
Stories of other girls leaving their homes reached their ears. Some, like Arya, left out of a thirst to explore but, without the support of family and someone to vouch for them, couldn’t find jobs and had to return home. Parents were shamed for not being able to control their girl children, so when they returned, the acceptable societal reaction was to ostracize them. Other times girls came back pregnant, the story of the father refusing to marry her a common tale. The families then tried to raise the child as their own or give the baby away to someone else. But that daughter was now spoiled goods, couldn’t be respectfully given away either. A flagrant mark burned on her the rest of her life.
—Dah is how oman and dem treated on de island, Krys, says my mother, and dah is also why ah kyant juss pick up and leave like Rahul. Pappy ahready hah to hang e head een shame cause Gita juss pick up and leff and everybody find out. E din geh ah chance toh gih she ahwey de way e was suppose toh.
Within two months of the accident, Rahul left. And within days of his departure, a brand-new Ford Escort was delivered to the property; a tow truck took the old one away. It was the same shade of blue as the last one, and for Arya, after having driven a broken car for so long, its sleekness was disconcerting. They realized now why their father had looked so pleased with the insurance assessment.
Since the elder siblings—Gita, Rahul, and Reeya—had already dispersed in one unpleasant way or another, that left Arya, Amrit, Pooja, and Chandini still at home. Arya, now the oldest, was taken aback and almost dropped the keys when her father handed them to her, telling her she could use the car to go to school.
—Krys gyul, says my mother, it was de bicycle all ovah again. Ah couldn’t ack nohow. Ah hah toh hol mehself togeddah and eh ack nohow.
As soon as Shiva turned his back, Arya grabbed Amrit and jumped into the car. They took a spin along the main road and back. Their squeals filled the air as they rolled the windows down. Arya’s curls streamed in the warm breeze. A smile played on her lips, growing to a grin. She glanced at her brother, and they both screamed out together.
NASTY LIL SINGH-IN SNAKE, they hissed at her, slippery snake, yuh nasty lil cunt of a snake.
As one of only a handful of students who owned cars, Arya had become a magnet for envy. Most of her classmates had seen at least one of the Singh brood grow up, and they’d grown accustomed to seeing their clothes riddled with holes, no shoes on their feet, mud smeared on their arms, the foul scent of animals clinging to them. Seeing Arya in a car while most of them walked or took taxis seemed to threaten their belief system.
—Ah wasn’t no backward wid dis eiddah, eh Krys, my mother tells me, cause is kickin off an kickin off een meh cah, sprayin up duss and everyting, makin ah rheal show foh people toh watch. Finally, ah hah someting. Dem juss couldn’t handle it.
Arya drove her car to Northeastern College for the rest of that term, anxious about her end-of-year exams. In January, she turned eighteen, a year older than everyone else since failing her Common Entrance exam in standard five.
—Ah hah toh pass six oh seven subjex toh move up, Krys, says my mother, an considerin ah din like nutten dey gih meh, it was rheal hard.
The week of testing dawned, and Arya wrote one subject after another, phrases starting to blend together as she was sucked into the vortex of exams. She emerged feeling lightheaded, the world around her a brighter place.
The next step was the University of the West Indies. Though Arya had never visited the campus, she dreamt of what it was like and how it would feel to walk down its corridors, the weight of textbooks in her arms. She imagined it to be a dignified building, the red, white, and black flag of Trinidad flapping in the courtyard, large windows encasing each floor. Arya wanted to be there, for she knew education was the best way off the farm. How fortunate her father would support her every step of the way.
But Arya only passed three of her subjects. Unable to move on to the advanced levels, she began to flail, unsure of what to do.
—Yuh see, Krys, my mother explains to me, dere was no room foh mistakes. Eiddah yuh pass oh yuh fail at dis point. Dere was nutten foh me toh do.
Her dream of attending university was disintegrating before her. Those hallways she envisioned started to shake and shift, replaced with images of Arya plucking fruits from trees for the rest of her life, her fingertips grayed and fuzzy from the stickiness of fresh produce. Informing her father she failed would only drive her further into the land. He would think she wasn’t made for school and should stay at home with him, so Arya desperately searched for another way.
Had Arya passed her exams, she would have been able to continue to her advanced levels, her education a free ride. All other optio
ns now required her to pay. She had to choose between applying for jobs or trying for another school. She found one facility in Arima that allowed students in her situation to try to pursue their education. Because she had no other choice, Arya threw herself into this option. When she told Shiva she didn’t qualify with her subjects, she also mapped out her other choice, detailing the cost for the semester, what route she would take, and the times she would be back on the farm.
Pa, she explained, ahgo be able toh continue on. Plenty students like me does goh dey.
Arya didn’t know anything for sure; most of the information on the school she’d procured from hearsay. When her father grunted his approval and paid for the semester in full, Arya counted her blessings and worked hard in the two months’ interim before starting.
Her elder sisters had all found some form of escape under the pretense of study. Gita went to San Juan, and Reeya to Tunapuna. Agreements between Shiva and members of his family in those areas were formulated so his girls could live with them, for a fee, while attending school nearby. Part of the agreement was that they’d all come home on the weekends, no excuses. His first two girls fled the farm for the same reason—they yearned to be closer to the vibrant life of the city.
When her sisters visited on the weekends, Arya wanted to live vicariously through them until she could attain the same for herself, but they were parsimonious with what they shared. Living in another world, they lorded it over her. They all marked Arya as the timid one. So far she’d been the only one who chose to stay, and they expected it to remain that way.
But then Arya saw what happened with her sisters over the years, and while she struggled between staying and leaving, she knew she didn’t want to end up like them. Gita ran away and eventually ended up in America, but with six children all before the age of twenty-six; Reeya also eventually ended up in America, where she became pregnant with twin girls, flourishing a bouquet of flowers in front of her swelling belly at her wedding. If ever they needed to come back, they couldn’t.
—Not dat dey goh wantah, says my mother, boh dere was ah way toh do tings een Trinidad and dat wasn’t de way.
The morning dawned for Arya’s fresh start at yet another school, and she was as determined as she’d always been. After she joined her siblings and parents in farm chores, she took some time to freshen up. She pressed some baby powder into her armpits and bosom; she inhaled the sweet smell. Fluffing her hair out with her fingers, she sprayed it into place. She would make a good impression this time.
Arya knew only that the school was about twenty minutes away in Arima. Never having seen it before, she drove slowly through the town, absorbing the colorful buildings along the way. Arya’s driving slowed to a crawl as she stared at large houses with open galleries on the second floor, quite unlike the lopsided farms slapped together with boards and sometimes exposed brick. Stone balusters ringed the verandahs, lending a grand air. Horns honked behind her, and she was forced to pick up her pace. A man with coconuts hanging off his shoulders rapped on her window, but Arya shook her head and sped off.
In the heart of Arima, she pulled over, unsure of where to go. She popped her head out of the window and asked for directions to the school. Several people told her it was on the outskirts of town, and complimented her car. Arya wrinkled her upper lip, wondering what kind of school was so far away from the town’s center. Parking in the shade of a mango tree, she trotted toward the place where people had guided her.
Before her was what appeared to be an abandoned cow shed. The doors had been ripped off their hinges, allowing wind that carried the rank scent of manure to sweep through the barn.
Dis kyant be it, Arya muttered to herself, checking her watch. She had another ten minutes or so before classes convened. Soon other girls and boys her age began filtering in. That was when Arya noticed crudely contructed benches placed throughout the shed. Groups of three or four people sat alongside one another, putting their books down at their sides. Arya stood just outside the doorway, reluctant to accept this was the school she’d signed up for.
—Dat wasn’t no school nah, says my mother. It was ah cow shed and de place smell like shit.
Arya stared, disbelieving, from face to face as they all settled down to wait for an instructor to arrive. How could they stand the smell? How could they call this a school? It took everything in her being to sit down and look to the front. There was no floor beneath her shoes, only hardened dirt that had been trampled by many feet. Birds squawked and flew through their classroom, sometimes lingering to drop a dollop of feces.
Their teacher strolled in late. He was a large man with broad shoulders and calloused hands. His roughened neck resembled leather. When he boomed a welcome to them all, Arya knew this was a man who knew farm work. She wondered what he would be able to teach her concerning the delicate subjects of literature and history. The answer was nothing. He was there to help them even more with agriculture. Stewing in her seat, Arya hunkered down and waited for it all to be over.
In her car, she shook with rage and disappointment. The semester had been paid for in full; how could she now tell her father this was not what she wanted to do? Without a backup plan, something solid, Shiva wouldn’t allow it. A thought entered her mind, but Arya pushed it to the side, hoping something else would come to her.
For one week Arya perched on a bench closest to the window in that cow shed. She listened as this man started with the forestry of Trinidad and Tobago. Already familiar with everything he said, Arya was sure she could teach this class herself, as could many of the pupils there. Agriculture for them was their only way of life. While some of the students seemed especially interested when the class discussed various species of fish, nothing could tempt Arya to stay here and finish.
And when nothing else revealed itself to her, Arya resigned herself to leaving school behind. All those who failed their exams at Northeastern in June were informed that the University of the West Indies offered six-month internships in different departments. If you did well, they kept you on. Arya wasn’t ready to start working yet, but her only choices left were a job or the farm.
—When ah say ah wasn’t ready toh wok, Krys, my mother explains, ah wasn’t ready toh give up on meh studyin as yet. Ah wanted so badly toh go toh school and den geh ah good job. If ah juss gone so toh geh ah job den is rheally low jobs yuh qualify foh, and ah wanted moh dan dat. So ah tell Grampa me eh goin back dey. De final backup foh me was de government job.
THE UNIVERSITY WAS IN THE TOWN of St. Augustine, an hour’s drive from Cunaripo and less than a half hour’s drive from the capital city, Port-of-Spain. When Arya discovered where she’d be and how close it was to the city, an ache spread through her. All her life she’d wanted to be a part of the city scene, but she also thought being a university student was in her future.
Arya borrowed an outfit from one of her sisters and used a curling iron on her hair for the first time. Daubing some powder on her face, she spread it around, added a touch of rouge and matching lipstick, then took a step back to look at herself. Her transformation from a greasy farm girl to a primped interviewee astounded her. She was careful to avoid her father, slipping away while he was busy doing other things. In a bag she’d borrowed from a sister was a pair of hand-me-down pumps she’d never had an excuse to use before and her letter from the school detailing the date, time, and location of her appointment.
As she followed the signs to St. Augustine, the narrow roads opened up and grew spacious and curvaceous, Arya turning the steering wheel from left to right with delight. Being this far away from home for an unknown amount of time thrilled her. Signs for the university began long before she reached the town. Large savannahs fanned out on either side of the road, and Arya reveled in their avocado hues.
The roadway leading to the school was flanked by immaculate lawns. It was an impressive stretch that intimidated Arya. She had always thought that the day she stepped foot here would be when she was a university student. With a deep b
reath, Arya nudged the car forward and pulled into the closest parking lot. The Trinidadian flag flapped above her at the entrance to the building. Students milled about in starched uniforms, books held against their chest or slung over their shoulder in a backpack. They moved with purpose and vigor, their eyes bright with knowledge and understanding. Tears burned in Arya’s eyes as she hustled into the cool interior.
Someone said her name softly, and Arya looked up. Striding toward her was a girl she knew from her early days in school. Neesha had sprouted into a tall young woman, almost taller than Arya herself. Her hair was pulled back into a thick ponytail that flipped out on her shoulders. Her amber-colored eyes were large and welcoming.
Ah eh see yuh so long, gyul. How yuh doin? Ah din know yuh goin here too. She flung her bookbag down between her sneakers and went in for a hug. Arya, not sure how to respond, stepped back. She never wanted to cross paths with anyone she knew. Knowing others were able to attend school was enough. Seeing them here was just too much.
Ah not hyah, Neesh, Arya stammered, ah, ah juss here toh apply foh ah job.
Their exchange following that was awkward. Arya created more and more distance between them, and Neesha seemed almost happy for it, really in search of an ally on campus. Neesha pointed her in the direction of the office she was looking for, and there Arya found a man behind a desk who took a distracted glance at her letter and said, We only hah postal jobs available at de moment.
Her mind raced. She didn’t want to deliver mail, foreseeing how that job could be as tedious and mindnumbing as farmwork, but she didn’t want to offend this man and end up jobless either.
Am, sorry mistah, boh is dere anyting else available? I don’t rheally tink ah wahn dat, said Arya.
The man shoved together the papers he’d been shuffling around and stared at her over the counter.
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