I wish I was unafraid to be called “Crazy”…

The year 1991…

It was year 1991, and I was 11 years old. Just the year before instead of the school auditorium, we had a new theatre hall. A beautifully architected building, named after a former Principal.

Our science teacher, who we all feared as students, and who was also my eldest uncle’s class mate, walked into the class trying to sell tickets for a Magic show. We didn’t have money, but one of my friends and I got up.

We got the two tickets on credit, and we were already late for the show. We ran to the hall.

“Come this way, you go upstairs”

Said a couple of the prefects on duty, when the boys in front of us and behind us went to ground floor. Somehow we were selected to go upstairs.

“Come this way, you go to the right, the last row”

Said a couple of prefects on duty, when the boys in front of us and behind us went to ground floor. Somehow we were selected to go to the last row.

In front of us sat some people who looked like parents.

The lights got turned off, and we couldn’t see. As we were too small for the Balcony last row. So we sat on the arm of the chair. An older boys came and kindly asked

“is this seat taken”,

in the most kind base voice.i loved the fact that such a elder brother came and asked politely. Then he kept his elbow on my lap, and asked

“Is it ok?”

I didn’t think of it much so said ok. Then his elbow moved upwards, my heart beat faster and faster, something I didn’t know was happening to my body. But I knew what was happening to my mind. His elbow reached my privates.

Then he slowly moved his hand and unzipped me. He also got my hand and kept it on him. I liked it. Then he called,

“He is ok, come here”..

Another big boy came and sat on the other chair on his request.

I got scared. I looked around. My friend was missing. Then I got more scared. I got up, zipped up and walked to the door and saw my friend.

Later in life I got to know these boys were 18 or 19 when I was 11. It was organised and prefects were also involved. While the entire society was not speaking of sex, or sexuality, this is what happened in Sri Lanka.

Let’s fast forward to 2020…

I’m forty years old. One morning I got this crazy thought, that I had to share parent duties. I was once again experiencing highly elevated emotions. All of a sudden out of nowhere, my former boy friend also spoke to me from Switzerland. In my elevated state, I thought he was in Australia. I thought he was hiding in one of the houses and I somehow had to find which house. There was also other things happening, and I knew the general public knew me and either liked me, or disliked me, praised me, or criticised me, or laughed at me, or felt sorry for me. One such day, I went for my usual walk. There was a little white boy with his soccer ball, and a black man who was around 20 to 30 years old.

I felt that the little boy wanted to play soccer with me, at least he wanted to talk to me. So I looked at him. All of a sudden,the black man, looked at me, then looked at the boy.

All of a sudden my crazy thought in the morning occurred to me. I was looking at the black man,when the boy ran past me. For some reason I ran behind the little boy.  But he went to a house, so I stopped. Then the black man came to me and started questioning me. I got a little angry as I knew deep inside he knew exactly what was going on.

I left it there, minded my business.

On Friday, 18th September night, I went to the park without my soccer ball as I had a knee issue. A little boy who maybe around 14 was sitting on the ground, and 3 girls were playing near him. They kicked their soccer ball, and the ball landed on me. I kicked it back. I was so happy. I played with someone. I walked passed them, and walked back and thanked them. I told them how shy I was to play and looked at all the people happily playing, walking dogs, etc. Then I saw a bunch of people playing soccer. I was thinking, maybe if my former boyfriend comes back, he will be able to play with these people.

In my dream land, I sat down, and I took pictures.

Then I saw the black man again. He was taking a phone call looking at me. For some strange reason I thought he was calling the police and I got scared. Although I havent done anything wrong in body, speech, or mind, I got scared.

I got up and walked away. Then a much larger white boy came to me and questioned me about the previous day saying the little white boy is upset to see me. I got angry.

We had a conversation and he told his name was Alex.

I left the play ground and cried all the way home.

I was crying thinking,

No harm was intended or done to the little white boy, but someone appeared to save him. Where was Alex when I was eleven years old. The Alexes when I was eleven, organised and fished the fair skinned innocent boys to give to their 18 year old friends, to please their sexual needs.

– Nim –

P.S: I am no longer scared to go to the park. If the little boy has issues it’s his, not mine. I’m scared to write this and publish it publicly. I’m scared for my future employment. My current employer is lovely and I know no harm will come my way. But I’m scared. Yet, if I don’t write this, it’ll get bottled up, just like every other memory since 4 years of age.

But, I thank Alex, the white boy who spoke to me, who looked after the little one’s needs. But I was hurt. I wish he sat down with me for a while, and asked my story. I wish I was unafraid of him to tell him my story. I wish I was unafraid to be called “crazy”.