I still remember the first time I saw Eva, when she walked into my classroom. She was 20, only a year younger than me, and slim, with tanned olive skin, slightly oval chocolaty brown eyes, long black/brown hair that she kept in a ponytail. She was extremely pretty, and I liked her immediately. For the first week that I knew her, I thought about her every day... and I looked forward to seeing her in class, which she attended diligently. In a rare move of bravado, after a week I asked if she wanted to meet me in a local club that Friday night. I was convinced she'd say "No", but I guess I was emboldened by the break-up with Carla; like, I had nothing left to lose, so extensive and complete was her rejection of me. To my amazement, Eva agreed to meet up.We met up in the club and, to cut a detailed story short, we started our relationship immediately afterwards. It was just that smooth- there was not even a discussion as to whether we wanted to be more serious or not. One day we were just an adult student and her teacher, and the next we were in a relationship. She was sweet and kind, and for about 3 months I treasured her greatly. I remember telling her one day, about two weeks after we'd started dating, about what had happened with Carla. She was lying on her bed, listening to me talk while caressing her face, pushing her hair back out of her eyes. We were alone in the house, for once.
"And what if she comes back?", I remember her asking quietly, almost a whisper, so as not to disturb the silence we found ourselves in. Somehow, I knew she was going to ask that, and I had the honest answer all ready for her. I smiled down at her, and said, reassuringly, "I don't care. I don't want her anymore". And it was the truth. I kissed Eva.
For a few more weeks, things were really great with us. We enjoyed being with each other. The only annoyance at that time was that other girls had been telling Eva about my exploits in the clubs, during the previous months. She raised those concerns with me once, on a freezing cold night as we were walking the short distance from the school to my house. I still remember looking over at her, close to my right arm, with that ancient city that had seen so much behind her. She was a local in every sense- in skin colour, in facial shape, in her words and her mannerisms. I thought about that fact as I watched her walk, and she eventually broke my eye contact, blushing...
"What?", she said, giggling and looking away, before peeking a glance back at me as we both walked. Despite my broad grin, she then remembered what she had asked me;
"So? Is it true? Are you a player?"
We were passing the temple-turned-cathedral on the hill, which had a great view of the busy main street where my school was. The smell of frankincense filled the air as we passed the main door, and because of repeated walks like this one, I will forever associate that sweet, herby smell with that city... with Eva...
"That's all behind me- it's the past", I told her, as I put my arm around her shoulder, and kissed her soft but cool cheek as we walked the narrow pavement together.
By the time we got home, she was happy to believe that that was the past me, a man I had left behind...
... if only it were true. As I remember her beautiful milk chocolate eyes looking back at me as she pushed my front door open, and then her smiling back at me, to show me that she believed me, I'm saddened, even now, that what I'd told her wasn't true...
We would see each other mainly on weekends- I would go over to her house that she shared with her 2 older brothers, and she would cook for me. We'd watch a movie on Sunday afternoons, and sometimes I'd stay the night. If she ever wanted to stay at MY house, she would lie to her brothers and tell them she was going to stay with her cousin.
We were a really great team, for a few months. We used to blow off friends in order to be alone together, even just to watch a movie and eat rotisserie chicken and chips, and then fall asleep in her bed under a mountain of scratchy blankets. I would tell her about what life was like where I was from, and she'd listen with a sympathetic ear as I explained the societal problems of my home country. We would explore the city together, trying out new restaurants around the main square. Just the two of us, happy in each others company, unspoiled and untroubled by the demands of the world for the periods that we spent together.
But what happened next is an example of what has happened in many of my relationships since then. This time with Eva was to prove to be the first of a recurring pattern of behaviour- a cycle that I've only recently been able to break out from...
In a nutshell- I got bored. Firstly, let me be clear- Eva was not boring. In fact, my boredom had nothing to do her or how she was, as is evident by the fact that this was the first of many relationships that was ruined by the same problem. Although I didn't know it at the time, the problem was mine- the mental and emotional virus was inside me, within MY mind. I had a distorted vision of how I thought my life should be. And because this fake, imaginary beauty of how I imagined my life being was SO bright and awe-inspiring, I was unable to see the real, tangible wonder right in front of my eyes.
Let me put this into real terms for you- I turned 22 in September 2009; still young, and still with so much travelling and exploring left to do. There were so many places that I wanted to see, and people I wanted to meet... experiences I wanted to have.
As the weeks went on, I found myself growing restless in that fairly small city. I was in the type of community- the backpacker community- where the turnover of friends was frequent. As new people arrived for their 6 month work contracts, the friends I'd just started to get to know would leave. The new people would become friends, and just as I was feeling close to them, they would leave, only to be replaced by other new people...
And all these people brought with them stories- tales from other places they'd visited. Being the excited and adventurous young traveller that I was, it wasn't difficult for them to conjure up ideas of steamy rain forests, idyllic beaches, ancient monuments and cultures, historical colonial towns, new flavours, new faces, exotic languages... it was all too much to resist. I wanted it- I wanted to experience it all, to be part of it, to let it have its impact on me. I would search for hours online for pictures of countries that I'd been recommended to visit, imagining myself walking through the cobblestone streets in the historical district of whatever city... or lying under a palm tree, my feet buried in the flour-white sand, with nothing but the sound of gentle distant waves and parrots high-up in the trees...
Back then, I didn't see a relationship as a responsibility. That will become obvious to you, the more you learn. To me, it was something that served to benefit ME. I, such was my belief, should have to put in little to no effort to maintaining it, and I CERTAINLY shouldn't have to sacrifice anything to keep it. As we approached November, I looked at my relationship with Eva, barely 3 months old, and I decided that I wasn't willing to put it above my desires to travel more...
"Where will you go...?", I remember her asking me, as we sat at her dining room table together after lunch one Sunday. She was holding my right hand, and I was having to use my left hand to drink the cup of cinnamon tea she had prepared for me...
I told her, and she looked away from me, trying not to make eye contact, trying not to show the slight build up of tears in her eyes... She was melancholy, and at first, I tried to console her. Then, I grew impatient with her, and my efforts to make her feel better grew less and less genuine.
I felt very little of the emotion that she was clearly suffering from at that moment. I mistook her sadness at seeing me go as her trying to guilt me into staying, and this left me cold and unsympathetic in comparison. But the fact that she wanted us to stay together, long distance, should have been a signal to me of how much she really loved me. Sadly though, for her and for me, at that time I was unaware of what true, selfless love really looked like. By the time I'd be able to really recognize it, it would be years too late for us.
One of the last lines in the musical of "Les Miserables" is:
"I remember the truth that once was spoken;
'To love another person is to see the face of God'"
As the man I am now, I know that there is nothing more important than firstly to love God, and secondly to love others- and that the two go hand in hand. In fact, one of my favourite teachings is from William Barclay, who said:
"Jesus would have said that the only way to prove love for God is by showing love for others".
I also know that to spell JOY, you must put
Jesus first,
Others second,
Yourself third.
But at 22, I was far from this way of thinking. I put myself first, before another person. And not just any person- before someone who really loved me. I put myself, my selfish ambitions before a creation which was created in God's image. I let the real love that Eva felt for me go forever... in order to try to grab imaginary treasures that I would never be able to grasp.
Even then, I tried to justify my behaviour. In my mind, I had accused Eva of trying to hold me back, trying to suffocate me in that small city, in the limitations that the boundaries of our relationship was confined to. I was scared that I was missing out on life -there was fear again, never far away- and that fear lead me to act selfishly irrationally, against my own interests, in order to escape it. In this case, I was escaping in order to feel like I was getting the most out of life. I wasn't ready for the restrictions of a relationship; but I didn't want to fully give her up either. I wanted the best of both worlds. Unfortunately, that would mean that Eva's emotions and her well-being, which I recognize now were far more genuine and developed than my own, would be placed in second place, behind my greed. I didn't see that then. I do now.
And as I boarded the plane a couple of weeks later, having said an emotional and slightly teary goodbye to my girlfriend, I would never have admitted that I was putting myself first. I can admit it NOW, as an older, wiser man who has very different priorities. But back then, my mind, my vision, was too crowded with other things. There was my travels, my emotions, my needs, my job, my passions... Eva came far down the list. If one of us had been able to convince me of that back then, and show me what it would mean for us over the next 2 years, then it might have saved her from the heartache that I was about to inflict on her...
---
He didn't hesitate. He walked confidently, carrying that rattling, rusty but thick and heavy metal chain. I followed him with my eyes, all the time focusing on the chain. When he was directly in front of me, he bent down to the ground, and suddenly, uncomfortably unexpectedly, I could feel his icy touch lifting up my right trouser leg, preparing my ankle for incarceration...
I didn't watch. I tried to distract myself by looking at the door, thinking about the door. All the while, I could feel the chill of the icy metal clamp being placed and secured, fastened around my ankle...
I was afraid to resist. I just let him work. I wanted him to work quickly, and get it over with. In fact, I stood as still as I could, so as to make it as clear as possible that I wasn't resisting. The work by my ankle continued, and I simply waited, standing there with my feet planted flat on the floor, and my arms outstretched in their own chains, feeling nothing inside.
"You are here...", I suddenly heard him say. I startled slightly, and looked down at him. All I could see was the top of his head within that cloak... "...because you trespassed in my domain".
I said nothing, and my captor continued his work. I wasn't thinking about his words. All I could think about was how I could feel the clamp on my ankle tighten harshly, and I winced, hoping it wouldn't get any tighter...
After a minute or so, he had finished. My captor collected up his small tools, the keys on the ring that he had laid aside on the hard stone floor, and stood up, turning away from me instantly. I didn't move my leg. I didn't want the chain to make a sound, and for him to think I was trying to break free from it...
Suddenly, I realised he was about to leave. In the space of a couple of seconds, before I could get my thoughts together properly, it occurred to me that he was in a hurry to leave this time. He was practically at the locked door by the time I forced myself to speak. I'd considered staying silent.
"Think about what you want to say CAREFULLY...", I'd told myself, "...and then say it to him next time..."...
But in an instant, another voice butted in: "But you don't know when there will BE a next time!". Afraid that I might be missing my only opportunity, I decided that the second voice was right...
As my captor reached the door, and I heard his keys working the metal lock, I burst out from the other side of the room:
"I didn't know the forest belonged to you!". My words echoed in that tiny room, and I was amazed at how quickly they impacted my captor. He immediately let go of the keys, letting them dangle in the lock, and he span round to face me.
He said nothing. I said nothing. We both looked at each other, expecting the other to speak in the quiet, dim morning light of the cell. He didn't move. I held my breath.
At first, I expected him to march back over to me and hit me, like he had before, and I got ready to curse myself for saying what I'd said at the slightest sign that he was heading back towards me... But he didn't move. He kept staring at me, in that awkward pose of being made to turn round suddenly. The keys swung behind him, rapidly, comically, in the lock, their jangling becoming a little less violent with every swing. Strangely, after a second or two, rather than cut my losses and stay mute, I decided to explain further. If that one outburst had caused such a reaction, then surely more detail could only help my case...
I said, more quietly, trying to show more respect...
"I was taken there..."... I hesitated, afraid to say a wrong word that might anger him... "... by some friends, who...".
"Why you were there...", his response cut me off sharply, and I stopped talking mid-sentence, "...or HOW you got there, don't matter to me. You were there..." he continued, "...and you shouldn't have been there. And that's why you're now here", he concluded.
And with that, after I'm sure taking another look at my startled expression, my mouth slightly open, unable to speak, he spun round, twisted the keys with one large CLANK, opened the door, swept round it out of the cell, and before I could think of another word to say... the door had bolted locked behind him.
I was left alone again, with his words ringing in my head. I was still holding my breath, and only once I had heard the very last of his footsteps fade away on the other side of the cell did I let myself relax, and breath out dramatically through puffed out cheeks, relieved that he hadn't beaten me up this time...
I didn't test the leg chain to see how far it would extend. I didn't care at that moment. I knew that, no matter how far I could move my leg, the result would bring me no joy. I just stood there in the mid-morning of my cell, relieved to have survived another visit from my captor...
"...you shouldn't have been there..."...
... even if it had meant that one of my legs, as well as both my arms, was now chained to the wall. At least I hadn't had to take a beating...
"WHY you were there... or HOW you got there don't matter to me..."
"I didn't know the forest belonged to you!", I had pleaded, and I wondered how pathetic I had sounded. Then I remembered I didn't care how I sounded anymore.
My captor had stared at me, silently, as I thought...
"Is that the truth?", I had asked myself... Yes, it was the truth. I hadn't known I was trespassing... I hadn't know WE were trespassing...
"WHY you were there... or HOW you got there don't matter to me...", I remembered his words again exactly.
As I stood there, breathing steadily in the sunlit cell, I considered the harsh words with which my captor had met my pleas... I didn't need to ask myself if his words were true. The evidence spoke for itself. He had told me my crime, and my punishment was ongoing. It was more than clear to me that my motivations for trespassing were of no importance to him, and would certainly not convince him to release me.
Silence prevailed. Things that should have been said remained unspoken. I was alone again.
In the first few hours after my captor's visit, I found his words and mine doing circuits in my mind- flashing to the front of my brain before disappearing round a corner, only to be followed by another phrase swerving round the other corner... I let them go round and round, the hours slowly passing by, until I started to get drowsy in the mid-afternoon heat...
But I didn't sleep that day... or that night. It was torturous, not being able to rest from those words. The main problem was that they had convinced me that I had brought this punishment on myself. The idea that my incarceration was a result of my own carelessness, my own selfishness, was frustrating. That frustration kept me awake through the night. It made me restless and irritable at myself. It deprived me of rest, and with that, my captor had played his dirtiest hand yet...
---
Months passed. The boredom was slowly killing me. The meals, if they can be called that, which were solemnly provided to me by my captor on rare occasions - once every 2 days, I'd guess judging by how often the light passed outside my window - were technically keeping me alive. Still, it was a miserable experience.
I would spend hours, sometimes entire days, in a stupor of my own self-loathing and hatred. I think that was the worst part of all, the fact that my captor had caused me to hate myself. He had made me forget that I was of great value. He had stripped me of all sense that I was created, maintained and loved every second of every day. He had made me forget that I, like all of us, are of royal lineage. He had convinced me, by wearing me down, that I was in fact NOT part of the crown of life.
Those were the bad days- the WORST of the days, in reality. On the better days, I was starting to show signs of madness, in my cell, alone for months on end. The boredom of the same, unsatisfying activities, repeated day after day, sunrise until sunset, and all through the night, again and again...
Due to my attachment by 3 limbs to the wall, and the minimal radius of movement that allowed, any actions I wanted to complete were hugely limited. Still, those which I WAS able to complete, on my good days I did with vigour, and enthusiasm, if only to fool myself that I was doing something worthwhile. These included counting my teeth with my tongue (every time I reached the gap where one of my bottom middle teeth should have been, I looked down and saw it, off-white and tiny, still on the floor in front of me, with dark brown dried splats of blood around it, and I'd count it mentally...) seeing how long I could hold my breath for, seeing how loudly I could click my tongue, checking my toes all still had feeling in them by pressing them down into the floor beneath my feet one at a time, seeing how high I could lift my free leg in front of me, trimming my fingernails by grinding them away one at a time with my thumb nail... and whistling.
As good as I got at these activities, I was achieving nothing, I realised. I wasn't even being a martyr for a cause, it dawned on me, since nobody knew I was there. Nobody cared. No-one was campaigning for my release, no-one was coming to rescue me...
...Or, so I thought...
