Howling Winds, Fading Stars

I took a deep breath tasting the fresh air. I looked around and for the first time I noticed the serenity of my surroundings. The peacefulness. I listened to the birds as they flew majestically in the wind. The fluffy floating clouds roaming the skies, free to travel wherever they like. All the splendid things you tend to take for granted during a normal hectic day in today’s world. That’s why it’s important just to step back, relax and let your senses wonder. If only I was doing this under better circumstances. If only everything was back to normal. If only…. its no good to wish or regret! Life goes on and that is the unfortunate but inevitable crisis called reality.1

It’s true what people say, you only appreciate how great something is when it’s gone. I once had security, happiness, and a loving family, but that was in a different world. Now I’m all alone, isolated from the world I once called my own. I arrived at my new school today, a day before the start of the new semester. I was physically hours away from home, yet vivid memories rotated like slides through my mind, reminding me that mentally I was still trapped there. Every image would conjure countless thoughts and emotions revolving around the loneliness, regret and pain I have suffered. I’m asking myself questions but finding no answers. In a way it’s good to get out of it. Every sound, every object, every smell brought with it unsettling recollections. I’m out of the world that brought me so much pain, yet my heart aches for the security and comfort that only familiar surroundings and people can bring. The daunting prospects of the next few weeks offered neither of these respites, the imminent school year was weighing heavily on my already overheated mind. A new school, new people, a new place to stay. 2

I remember many years ago over a hot chocolate during a cold winters night, with the low mumbling of my parents and grandfather calmly chatting in the background, my younger brother and I were kept entertained by my grandmother’s delightful stories about her times at boarding school. I can say the picture in my mind created by these stories was distinctly different to what I have seen so far! Maybe I just need a hot chocolate and a good rest? No, what I need is to hear that joyful chitchat of my parents, the sight of my brother’s glowing smile, or even the old crackled yet serenely innocent voice of my grandmother, that’s what I need. Those secure nights at my grandparents are something I realise, now that I’ve lost them, how much I enjoyed.3

I was shown my new living quarters, room no. 4. My roommate hadn’t arrived from his farm yet but I was assured he would be arriving soon and would defiantly lighten the spirit of the place. Just great, I get to spend my next semester with a live wire. Maybe I shouldn’t be quite so pessimistic. Life can’t go forward, and life definitely can’t improve if everything is looked at negatively. Think positive, I mean, could it get any worse? I pray not.4

My roommate soon arrived. 5

“Hi, I’m Reece, and your name is?”6

I wasn’t in the mood for an in-depth conversation, so I tried to keep it short:7

“Anemos.”8

“What kinda name is that?”9

“It means ‘Like the Wind’ in ancient Greek. My parents decided they liked the name. I’ve grown fond of it myself.”10

“If they are such kind parents why did they send ya to this hole?”11

“Don’t worry.”12

I could see in his face that was not the response he was hoping for. Reece decided I was not entertaining enough to talk to so he left me to my unpacking and went next door. I could hear him annoying someone else. I wasn’t used to the noise. My room in Dubbo used to be my fortitude, a fortress that encompassed me with deadly yet peaceful silence. I lay on my bed a while trying to zone out all the commotion about me. Students were arriving after their “most exciting holidays ever.” Why couldn’t I say the same? Why couldn’t I be normal? Why couldn’t I…Oh, its no good to wish or regret. I need some fresh air, some exercise. I need to run.13

There are two things in the world which I couldn’t live without, fitness and solitude. Not surprisingly I love running, the fresh air in my lungs allows me to fathom complexities with ease without being distracted by trivial and loud people. Solitude is something I’ve become accustomed to recently, I guess you could say I enjoy my own company. I miss my younger brother Steph so much. We where really close. Everything I did, I did with him. But since our split I’ve lost the urge to become attached to anyone. I’m scared of the same thing happening to me again. To build a strong relationship, so strong that you can’t even imagine a day going by without that connection, and then losing it in a flash, is very tough. Since I lost Steph I’ve taught myself to believe that the only safe friend, the only one you can trust, is yourself. Because at least that way you have nothing to lose. 14

I used to go for runs a lot in Dubbo. I love the outdoors. Steph and I would race down to the beach and play a bit of soccer in the sand. During those last few weeks without him though I would trudge down as the sun was setting. I’d lie on the beach and close my eyes and listen to the reassuring waves. At the time it was the only thing I could think of in my whole life which was consistent, a constant beat. My life was full of variables, I felt so unbalanced, as if I was about to fall and never hit the ground. I knew one thing though, the waves would forever be pounding on the sands. Unfortunately I realised my heart was no different, but sometimes I wished it would stop beating. As I ran through the daunting school grounds dodging the rows of columns, through the huge brown buildings, I wished I was back lying on that familiar spot on the beach, listening to the comforting waves. No luck, here I was running in fear of my own existence, avoiding anyone who came near me, hiding from human contact.15

My first day of school was confusing. So many people, so much disorder. I couldn’t take it! It’s one thing when your mind is swirling like a tornado but when everything around you is too you struggle to stay focused and on your two feet. I’ve never been seasick but I’m sure it’s much the same feeling. I wobbled my way through the day. I tried to participate, to fit in, but I just couldn’t. It was as if the scar of memories resounding throughout my body was screaming, glowing like a lighthouse warning ships from coming near. I was a rugged cliff, dangerous, unwanted and in the way. I felt unwelcome, this definitely wasn’t the scene for me, particularly in my wrecked state. 16

A few days later it was announced that sport trials for winter sport teams would occur on Friday. It gave me two days to consider my options. In school one thing you learn very quickly is if you don't conform you are excluded. In this sport obsessed school if you don't participate you are forever associated to the library and bound to the tag of “geek”. It was still a tough decision for me though, I loved sport but I felt so out of the whole system. I didn’t want to extend my period of exclusion beyond the school hours to sport training as well. The boys had been talking about it and they seemed so determined, who was I to go and fight for their spots? They deserved them more than I didn’t they? After much contemplation, though, I decided I would try out for the rugby team. As much as I feared joining a team with my peers, allowing them to scrutinize my every action, I knew that to break the chains of isolation I had to open up and conform. 17

The rugby trials went as badly as they possibly could. Firstly I was laughed at when I put my name down because from the players point of view, “I didn’t have the right build”. As usual I ignored their uncaring remarks. I realised how little I had spoken in the last few days. This, however, wasn’t the time for me to change that. Mad rugby players, of the ‘correct’ build are certainly not friendly. I knew I didn’t have the physique of a ‘normal’ rugby player, but I played because I enjoyed it. Sport brings with it a sense of freedom, a freedom I so rarely feel these days. I remember times Steph and I would pretend it was the world cup final with 80,000 devoted soccer fans screaming and jumping as we would have a penalty shoot out. I would step up to the mark and for that instant be lost in another world, a world of independence and bliss. Those were the days when I was innocent to the world around me. So much of that innocence has been lost now, I’m no longer guarded by the security of not understanding the corrupt and unjust world around me. Unfortunately the rugby coach denied me this short pleasure I feel on the sporting field, as I wasn’t chosen for the team. I knew of course he hadn’t realised my potential. While I was losing my optimism for life, I never lost my confidence in myself, and the flicker of hope in the distance remained. All we had done was tackling exercises and passing drills, my talent remained unexplored. 18

Three people didn’t make the team for that first week. One of them looked really devastated. I recognized him from English class, his name was Craig. The other a larger black fellow still had a smile on his face. I had never seen him before but from that moment I respected him. I was too scared to introduce myself, as the three of us trudged back to the change rooms alone. As we entered Craig lost it, “That is so unfair! Can’t they see I’m the best fly-half?”19

“Relax. I’m sure you will make the team next week.”20

I listened as the African kid assured Craig he was a good rugby player and that this wasn’t the end of his probably illustrious career. Craig slowly cooled down but left in a hurry with a small thank you on his way out. As Craig left the other dropout mumbled, “Some people just take life too seriously!”21

I looked at him in awe I wanted to respond but I didn’t know what to say. He must have noticed my uncertainty and introduced himself as Manyana. I replied that I was Anemos. As usual he asked me what it meant and I went through the whole story. He said that he was named after one of his African Tribes rituals, a ritual which occurs when a boy becomes an adult and the tribe gives him hope, optimism and ambition. 22

“I admire you Manyana, its wonderful how you can show Craig so much sympathy and give him hope, but why don't you seem to have any for yourself?”23

“Can’t you see? I don't fit in, I’m overweight I’m part of a minority in that I’m African and no one seems to care.”24

“How come you still smile then? I feel the same way about myself, I feel excluded but I don't find it enjoyable.”25

“Neither do I Anemos, but you have to realise that if you don't get used to the inevitable then your life will never be fun. I don't enjoy being alone all the time but I try my best to.”26

“But it’s not inevitable! We shouldn’t be excluded!”27

Our conversation went on for a while and from that day on we became quite close. While I had erected a barrier from other human relationships, I felt this was different, how ever hard it was to believe, Manyana seemed so similar to me. We decided that we would not give up, and persist in our efforts to make the rugby team.28

As I lay in bed that night I could hear all the thumping of people moving about and talking as they discussed their sporting feats. I wished that I were in my bed in Dubbo listening to the crickets and the occasional speeding car. They were noises that annoyed me terribly at the time but now I realised how comforting they were. Life isn’t the same without that familiar environment. I feel so lost in this world.29

Manyana has started me thinking about how I can overcome my self-pity. I think the reason I feel so trapped and isolated is because I haven’t quite accepted what happened during those last few weeks of my existence. I want to go back to when I felt secure when I felt loved but I know I can’t. But it’s so hard allowing those memories to fade away, they seem permanently forged in my mind. All I can remember from that fateful night are the noises and that vivid image. My familiar room walls enclosed me as I lay staring through the open window at the fading stars. A scream cut the perfect silence and with it went my momentary happiness. My parents were in a fight and it sounded as if it was over a very important issue. I knew very well that their conflicts were always very trivial, conflicts which are so easily avoidable. This fight was different though, Steph seemed to be the instigator of their argument and I could here him in the background trying to calm things down. The shouting continued and I just lost interest, until that deafening screech from my mother accompanied the breaking of glass. I was frozen in my bed, I remained like that as the sirens approached our house. I was trying to block out reality; it was just a dream, just a dream! Every morning since that day I have woken up and said it was just a dream. My brother Steph was fine, he wasn’t frozen in time in a hospital bed. I imagine that my mother and father hadn’t broken up and that they still loved me. Unfortunately now I’m stuck in this boarding house – I have nowhere to hide from those terrible events. I can’t wake up in the morning and convince myself I’m part of a loving family because I’m living in a place which is a result of my families fracture. I can’t hide, every night I look up at the sky and see the fading stars, the last image of my prior life.30

The weeks at boarding school slowly passed. Manyana and I became closer as our similarities were highlighted – we were both isolated from the school community, we were outsiders. We continued to try make the rugby team but it seemed our inability to fit in cost us the respect we deserved. I was beginning to lose hope in making the team so I started to focus on the upcoming athletics season. The thought of running in front of my ‘peers’ excited me. It is hard to express the sensation you feel when you run fast but its one of an overwhelming sense of power. People dream of flying, well I often say that I have flown, at least as close as a person can get to flying on their own two feet. The control and freedom you feel is unbelievable and is heightened by my depressed and isolated state. As I attempted to receive some merit for my athletic abilities it seems my rugby coach found a new interest in me. I was chosen in the rugby team on the wing and it seemed to cause a slight uproar in the team. It appeared I was too different to be part of the team, too “uncool”. I was convinced though that I could prove to them I was as much human, and therefore rightly allowed on the team, as they were. 31

The game was on a Saturday which I will forever vividly remember. A large portion of the school population had formed a crowd for this game which happened to be the final fixture of the season. Being crunch time the stats were simple, win against St. Marks and finish first, or lose and finish 3rd. A traditional rugby school could not finish anywhere but first and I could feel the awe of expectation. The players and spectators acted as if losing was not an option. I didn’t understand this mentality, I had always been taught that winning is simply a bonus after a combination of having fun and playing well. This was different though, fun was holding the trophy and shaking the hands of the losing team with a broad arrogant smile. My differing approach to winning, however, didn’t faze my drive to prove those around me wrong. Wrong for doubting me and excluding me. 32

I could go into a detailed analysis of the match, but there was only one moment that is now forged in my memory, along side that resounding shriek. That Saturday was the day I flew in front of a crowd. I proved to the world, and myself, that hope remains. As the wind picked up I felt a new sense of freedom, one I had never experienced in my life, I lost consciousness of reality and felt the ball in my hands as I sprinted to the try line. I ran like the wind, unstoppable, free as a bird, floating like the clouds, free from the chains of isolation. That try completed a successful match for my teammates and I. Fortunately we were both able to celebrate in our own ways. My teammates grinning as they condescendingly shook the oppositions hand and paraded with the trophy. Me, smiling for the first time in this new world. I had conquered my doubts and my doubters. As the team displayed their trophy I remained on my own, enjoying the moment where I felt a part, maybe even accepted. 33

“Well played Anemos. See what optimism can do? Never lose faith!”34

“Manyana!! All I can say is … thank you!” 35

Later that night, as the game euphoria died down, I went outside to lie on the playing fields. I realised I had remembered what that innocent feeling was like: as Ronaldo lined up for the 2002 World Cup Final Penalty Shoot Out, with the game in the hands of one person, shoots…and scores. At that instant you feel like bliss will eternally remain with you, what else matters? Unfortunately when I was innocent I was ignorant of the truth, you cant hide from your problems. I still feel like an outsider and Steph is still in a coma. But I still hold one thing dear to me – Hope. I still hope and pray that Steph will return to me, and I still hope and pray that I will be accepted for who I am – a mission which I believe is underway right now in my soul, as I sign a contract to endeavor for that next step of braking the chain of isolation. The ritual was beginning, my own Manyana was occurring, hope, optimism and aspirations were returning. And as I stared up at the sky, I saw a field of light and dreams, the stars weren’t fading, but glowing brighter than ever.36