It was Femke, on their way home from the party the previous week, who had persuaded Chala to join them for their yoga weekend on an island in Lake Baringo. Chala had been hesitant, not having done yoga before, not knowing anyone, not even sure that she could justify the indulgence and the extra day away from the shelter. ‘Don’t be so ridiculous.’ Winnie had said. ‘You need to see some of Kenya while you’re here.’
But above all, it was the tiredness that had decided her. It was as if her energy literally ran out each day, so by the afternoons she felt heavy and weak. Grief and uncertainty, she reminded herself constantly, these are big things, bound to take their toll. Maybe the yoga would bring back some energy.
Philip’s ashes still lay – patient and unassuming – beside her bed. She had thought of taking them with her to Baringo, but then decided against it, sensing she might not have the privacy she would need for the inevitable final ritual she needed to face.
She had taken to the yoga teacher immediately: a gentle, slim woman in her early forties called Jane, whose sense of humour dispelled the mystique of yoga and made it seem accessible at any level. All the same, Chala had been quiet that first evening and the first to go to bed.
She had woken in the middle of the night to strong wind that poured through the open sides of the banda and the sound of the lake like sea in a storm. She had pulled up the blanket and found it strangely comforting to feel the wind and even drops of rain on her face in the darkness. By morning the wind and rain had swept through, the sky was clear and the lake was utterly still. She had watched the sunrise from her bed, an egg-yolk sun climbing a mountain on the horizon and pouring weak, warm light across the water.
Jane’s voice pierced her consciousness now, as they sat cross- legged on yoga mats on the stone floor of an empty banda, faces slightly tilted towards the view. It was a soft, yet strong, voice and, as she talked them through the meditation, Chala was reminded of Amanda.
‘Recognise the thoughts that come to you,’ Jane was saying. ‘Name them if you like and then let them go like clouds in the sky. Don’t follow them. Just come back to the brea…’
Chala tried to concentrate on her breathing, tried to ignore the stiffness in the small of her back, wondered if she was trying too hard and conjured up behind closed eyelids a deliberate image of clouds in the sky.
‘I am going to talk a little about each of the seven chakras in your body and I want you to follow my words at a distance. Allow them to float through you and feel the wheel of each chakra in your body.’ Her voice was soothing. Chala tried to close her eyes deeper.
‘Imagine a wheel at the base of your spine, spinning red energy. This is the first chakra, at the root of our being, grounding us to the earth. This chakra relates to our most primal needs. If it is balanced, we have a strong sense of the here and now and a will to live. We know what we want in life, we trust our relationships, we accept ourselves and our bodies as they are. If there is imbalance here, we feel unable to cope, life is unfair, we become the victim, de-personalised, lacking in energy and self-esteem.’
Is that my problem? Chala found herself thinking. When he gets angry with me Paul says I’m always the victim. And my lack of energy, is that what this is about? Philip was my anchor. I’ve lost my anch… And Paul? Chala felt a vague throbbing in her head and forced herself back to Jane’s voice.
‘Now feel the energy moving up from the earth beneath you, through the red wheel at the base of your spine and into an orange wheel between your pubic bone and your navel. This is the sacral chakra, associated with our reproductive organs, our sexuality and creativity. If this chakra is balanced, we feel joy and pleasure in life, we can be independent and whole. If it is blocked, our sexual relationship with our partner may break down, we may suffer feelings of confusion, envy and lust.’
An image of Bruce naked above her shot through Chala. Is that what he was about? And yet it hadn’t felt like lust either. It seemed to stand separately in her consciousness, parallel yet unconnected. An accident, she thought sourly – no, a mistake. Oh Pa… If he were here now, she realised, if she could open her eyes and see him in front of her, she would want him to wrap his arms around her, she would want to nestle into his neck and smell him.
‘Now the energy is moving again, this time into yellow, inside your stomach at the solar plexus. Feel the wheel going round in your tummy. This chakra is associated with stamina, willpower and wellbeing. It is our true energy centre, close to the organs where we digest our food, the centre for our major emotions, our ambitions, our wants and desires. When it is in balance, we have a strong sense of personal identity, we like ourselves, we feel centred. When it is out of balance, we may suffer feelings of passivity, powerlessness, anxiety, guilt, lack of drive and willpower. We may become overly submissive to others, losing a sense of self, unable to process emotions, blaming ourselves for our failures.’
Chala felt as if someone had just punched her in the stomach. She wanted to cry. She felt as if Jane could see straight into the rotten core of her, as if she somehow knew what Chala had done as a little girl, as if she could see the guilt that lived inside her, on and on through each new lap of life’s experience. She took a deep breath to steady herself. She shifted position, leaning against the wall to support her back. But the tears came anyway, soft and silent.
‘And now, the wheel is moving again. The energy is climbing upwards from our solar plexus to a place just to the right of our heart. Here the colour is green. Our emotions have turned into love, tenderness and compassion, and unconditional love flows here. If this chakra is too open, we may become overly sensitive to others and drained by the outward flow of energy. If it is blocked, we may find that we have difficulty maintaining loving relationships; we may feel detached and removed, seeing only the bad things in other people; we may have difficulty expressing our emotions. Feel this green wheel turning near your heart and the energy pouring through.’
To Chala it seemed that her chest breathed wider as she concentrated on her heart. The tears still came, she felt them grow inside her and well up through her throat, and yet there was a sad sense of calm in them now, a recognition that, for all her faults, this chakra at least was not blocked. She saw Philip in her mind’s eye and her whole being ached with unconditional love for him and all that he had been in her life. And then, suddenly, she felt constricted. Would Paul’s love for her be unconditional enough to take her back?
‘Feel your energy moving from the earth beneath you, up through the root chakra, through the colour red, into the orange of your sexual organs, up through the yellow solar plexus chakra, through the green heart and now up, up into your throat, into light indigo blue. This chakra is connected to our ability to express ourselves and communicate with others. If it is balanced, we are able to relate with quiet confidence to the world around us, we are able to express feelings and ideas clearly and listen sensitively to others. If it is out of balance we may find we have difficulty finding the right words, we may find ourselves hiding behind a quiet voice or simply unable to articulate a thought or feeling, or we may find ourselves becoming over-talkative, filling the space around us with little of value, avoiding confrontation with our inner selves.’
Chala felt an initial wave of relief, aware of her own ability as a listener, but then she thought of the beta blockers she took for public speaking, of the one she had taken for her own wedding. Was this to do with the throat chakra? Or a lack of confidence in the solar plexus? She thought of what Paul’s reaction would be and laughed a sad, silent internal laugh. Forever analysing, trying to find explanations, labelling parts of her life like photos in an album. As if labels could change things, or make them go away.
She tuned back into the rhythm of her breathing and the silence that sat between the different wheels of Jane’s journey through their bodies. She felt a shy wave of calm and thought of the ripples in the lake.
‘Now the light blue energy is moving again,’ Jane’s voice floated over the l
ake, ‘moving into a deep indigo purple in the centre of your forehead between your eyes. This is the brow chakra and it is connected to intuition and the power of vision in our mind. It’s also the place where we frown and it has to do with concentration and mental fatigue. Feel it now, and if you find yourself frowning, relax and feel the purple energy smoothing out the lines in your forehead.’
Chala felt flustered and imagined a painter with a thick purple brush sweeping away the frown across her forehead. Jane’s voice washed over them again.
‘If this chakra is open our creative spirit flows freely, we can tap into our imagination and harness positivity in our lives. If it is blocked we may find we suffer from negative thoughts or poor concentration or fatigue. At the extreme end of the spectrum we may even lose the ability to distinguish between reality and fantasy. Feel this now, feel this purple wave of peace flow into your brow.’
Chala willed purple into her head and waited for the journey to continue.
‘Now feel the wheel turning to a point right at the crown of your head: the centre of our spiritual being. The energy here is white. Feel the energy at the top of your head. If each of the other chakras is a string on a guitar, the crown chakra is the playing of a chord, combining all the notes together. When this chakra is blocked we may suffer from depression and feel trapped inside our bodies without any spiritual dimension. If it is too open, we can have difficulties relating to the real physical world around us. When it is balanced, we have a sense of peace and acceptance of our lives.’
Self-doubt gripped Chala. Her head hurt with the vision of these colours sweeping through her body. Dysfunctional. The word bubbled up inside her as she tried to hold back her tears. The tears stilled and she waited for Jane’s voice, but there was only silence. Chala became aware, through closed eyes, of other people around her. She opened her eyes, slowly, and was shocked by what she saw.
Femke sat not far away, serenely upright, with sunshine lighting up the blond streaks in her hair. She was beautiful, Chala realised. Not in a head-turning sort of way, but in a way that grew as you spent time in her company. She exuded balance and warmth. She was one of those people who was just good to be around. And yet her face was also wet with tears. She, too, carried secret turmoil.
As she looked from face to face, Chala could see emotion on all of them. In that moment she wished for a camera, a camera to capture this for Paul to paint.
CHAPTER 23
‘So what did you think? Did you like the weekend?’ Femke’s voice was almost teasing, mischievous.
‘Yes, I did, mostly. I’ve never done anything like that before.’
‘What, sit with a bunch of women on a desert island and cry your head out?’
‘Your heart or your eyes, not your head.’ Chala laughed over her beer. ‘Actually, I think you’re right – head is a better description!’
‘But it feels good, right? You feel better than before we went?’
‘Yes, I think I do. I’m still tired, though.’ Chala had been so exhausted the day they had got back, she’d slept for ten hours.
‘You’re not pregnant, are you?’
‘Of course not!’
‘Hey, why the “of course”? I thought maybe there was something with you and Mick?’
‘You’re joking! Anyway, for someone who spends her time expressing anal glands, you got pretty emotional too Miss Femke!’ Chala loved Femke’s accounts of her daily life as a vet.
‘Yeah, even vets cry, you know.’
Chala longed suddenly, violently, to talk to Femke about Bruce. Would that be so wrong? Would it hurt to talk to someone about what she’d done? But she shrunk from another betrayal, searching instead for a safer intimacy. ‘So, what was it that made you cry?’
‘My boyfriend and I, we drove apart last year. I still miss him.’
‘Oh.’ Chala let the English slip pass. She hesitated. ‘What happened?’
‘Oh nothing special, really. He just couldn’t do, how do you say, commitment?’
‘Yes, commitment.’ She thought of Paul. How does anyone do commitment?
‘Hello, ladies! Another beer?’ It was Mick, pulling up a chair before they could stop him. ‘I’m not interrupting anything, am I?’
Femke and Chala made fleeting eye contact. Femke was the first to speak. ‘I didn’t think you KCs preoccupied about that sort of thing.’
He laughed as he sat down and turned to Femke. ‘So how does a Dutch vet get a licence in Naivasha?’
‘With great difficulty!’ Femke had told Chala her story about the painstaking bureaucracy involved and the official letter issued by the Dutch embassy vouching for her qualifications and ability to operate as a ‘vegetarian’. The Kenyan authorities hadn’t noticed the mistake, and the letter was now framed on her wall.
Something about the way Femke blushed made Chala suddenly aware of an unexpected chemistry between her and Mick. After she finished her beer she excused herself, saying she’d heard the Internet was up.
She dodged potholes and mopeds and stepped into the bright green Internet café. ‘Hujambo Mama Shelter!’ The owner greeted her warmly and she glowed at the nickname they had chosen for her. She smiled and sat down at the computer he waved her to. Nothing from Paul, but there was an email from Denise. They had already exchanged emails, mostly full of questions and answers about Kenya and the shelter. At last the message opened in front of her:
Hi Chala
How is little Julius doing? How is the website coming along? And your yoga weekend? You know, I tried to do yoga once, but I guess a warehouse in London doesn’t have quite the same spiritual pull as an island in the middle of a Kenyan lake!
Chala, I hope all this is helping you find a kind of peace. Perhaps I have no right to say this, but I hope you and Paul find a way back into your marriage and that I wasn’t wrong to suggest you went on your own. It’s good to hold on to what you’ve got. That was something I never learnt to do. Perhaps if I had, things would have turned out very differently, but perhaps not. Life has a funny way of creating its own stubborn path regardless, doesn’t it? Have you seen the film ‘Sliding Doors’? It makes me think of Philip sometimes!
Anyway, listen Chala, take no notice of me – it’s late and I shouldn’t be writing now – but when you come back, let’s meet again, please. I need to talk to you about Philip. You have the right to understand.
Take care of yourself.
Denise
Chala shifted on the bare seat. The tone of Denise’s email was different this time, disconcerting. She sensed agitation between the lines – a new agitation. Was this something to do with Philip’s letter? Denise had only mentioned the letter once, to say that she hadn’t opened it yet, that she needed time to prepare herself. Chala had respected her privacy, avoiding any attempt to probe, but now she felt a butterfly twinge and wondered what her solar plexus chakra was trying to tell her.
Sliding Doors. Chala had seen the film with Paul shortly before she left. A light, safe romcom to take their mind off her imminent departure. She’d enjoyed Gwyneth Paltrow’s role, her innocence, the way destiny worked out two parallel lives for her with essentially the same happy ending, but she had also squirmed at the exposure of deception, acutely aware, beside Paul, of the memory of Bruce inside her. And beyond the superficial romcom lurked a minefield that had haunted her all her life: the notion of destiny, predetermination versus free will, the extent to which we can exert control, the extent to which we are responsible, to blame for what happens to us and around us. Life without guilt – what would it feel like?
Over dinner Paul had surprised her: ‘Everyone has a Sliding Doors moment in their life, don’t you think?’
‘That’s a very female thing to say.’ Chala felt defensive. ‘What was yours, then?’
‘I don’t think I’ve had mine yet. What about you?’
‘Does it have to be conscious?’
Paul tried to laugh. ‘Trust y… No, something that happened when you were four
does not count.’
‘Well.’ Chala felt herself hesitating, grappling with a ghost that would always be there between them if she kept her resolve. ‘Well, I’m not sure I’ve had mine yet either.’
‘I think you have.’ Paul’s smile was gone. ‘Yours was the decision to go to Kenya.’
‘Oh, don’t say that, Paul.’ She hated hurting him.
‘Hey, don’t worry. It’s Sliding Doors, remember. It actually makes fuck-all difference in the long run.’ He touched the side of her face and she wished she were a better person.
Chala realised she was staring at a blank screen saver. What did Denise mean when she said that the film made her think of Philip? Had she come to believe that they would have gone their separate ways regardless of the accident? But what about Emma? What would have happened to her if she’d lived?
She swallowed back the sense of self-loathing that always threatened to engulf her when she thought of Emma and began a slow email to Paul. She told him about the strange email from Denise and the moment she had yearned for him at the yoga, about her progress with the sponsor-a-child plan and about Kenya’s election fever. She asked him about his painting and his cricket.
She longed to ask him if his anger would ever go away, if he thought it mattered; yearned to tell him about the notion of ‘home’ taking root inside her, but she knew she had no right.
Later, on the veranda at her hotel, Chala couldn’t wash away a feeling of unease over Denise’s email. She thought of the phone call with Philip before she had gone to Australia. Could this be another of those moments? What if Denise were in trouble? She picked up the phone and checked her credit. Yes there was enou…
‘Denise?’
‘Chala, my goodness, are you OK?’ She was obviously shocked to get the call.
‘Yes, no, I’m fine. I was actually calling to see if you were OK.’ There was a pause that felt too loaded and Chala filled it for her. ‘I mean, I got your email and it just sounded, I don’t know, you just sounded worried or upset and I wanted to make sure you were OK.’
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