10

George

In a way I was glad that Winnie had come to the rally. It was best that she heard the news from Theo X, the revolutionary, not from George Quint, her husband.

Winnie loved the latter, but she revered the former, and that had been bothering me for some time now. In solid, caring, reliable George lived the daring, dashing rebel she longed to emulate – but our lives had changed and the time for rebellion was over. That dual personality was inconsistent with marriage, which must be solid and strong and unified. Winnie did not yet understand. Youthful exuberance burned in her heart; the risks she had taken to be with me, the courage that had set her apart from her people and her race, they were like waves rising in the ocean and crashing on the shore: they were exciting, but limited. The ocean itself is still and deep. It carries the waves, but inevitably the waves fall back into it. Our marriage must be like the ocean, not the crashing waves. We must move on.

Theo X must die.

That night, though, Theo X was on fire as never before.

‘Brothers and sisters,’ I began, and even at those non-committal words the crowd broke into a frenzy. It was a larger crowd than ever before – over the years word had spread, and with each full moon the gathering swelled just a little more. Now, it clapped and cheered and people rose to their feet and called my name and chanted: Theo X! Theo X! Theo X!

Somewhere in that crowd was my Winnie. Knowing Winnie, she would be more enchanted than ever: proud of her Theo X, filled with revolutionary fervour, probably clapping and chanting herself.

‘I want to be at your side, fighting for justice with you!’ she had said earlier, and later tonight I would have to tell her it was all a dream. We were not going to be that revolutionary couple. She was married not to Theo X but to reliable, solid George Quint.

When the cheering died down, I began to speak. I never wrote my speeches in advance. They came spontaneously. It was like magic: the moment I opened my mouth the words would pour forth, as if recited from a script written in my soul. Words of inspiration, words of fire, words of truth:

‘Never believe, not for one moment, that the colour of your skin makes of you a lesser man, a lesser woman, than the man and woman of white skin! Never believe that you are a lackey, a servant, a serf – even if you play those roles in your everyday life! In each of your hearts burns an ember, and it is the ember of true identity! Cling to that ember, cling to that knowledge, cling to that faith: you are precious, you are golden, you are a child of God! Let that ember lend you dignity, even if your outer life is one of servitude and toil. Let that ember keep your chin raised up, even if your back is bent under the weight of your burden! The ember might be tiny, so small you can hardly see it, hardly feel it, but I assure you it is there and in times of despair, in times of devastation, may you remember that spark of life and may it infuse you again and again with new strength, new courage, new hope. Change will happen, my brothers and sisters. It will. But whether that change comes slowly or soon, you must never let go of that truth: you are precious, you are golden, you are a child of God!’

Gradually over the last two years my speeches had taken that turn into personal motivation. I had not planned it; it was not a conscious thing. I did not resolve to do this. The words came not from me, but through me, and I was as surprised by them as anyone in the crowd. Tonight, they even took on a religious bent – where did this child of God business come from? I was not a religious man – why then did I say such things? Yes, it was time to stop.

The leaders of People for Justice were already in two minds about me. On the one hand, I drew the crowds. Of all of their speakers, I was the one who had people cheering and clapping. The speakers who had gone before me tonight had drawn little reaction with their words: basically, we had all heard the same things before. Resist the white man. We shall overcome. Fight for justice. Words that had become clichés over time, because how are you going to resist when you have to earn a living to put bread on the table; when your overseer is behind you on a horse and carrying a whip (even if he is not allowed to use that whip) or when the lady of the house commanded you to scrub floors on your hands and knees and the pittance she paid you would put crumbs of bread in your child’s mouth? They were all empty words, and they had drawn little reaction from the crowd because we had all heard the same words before, from the same speakers.

But right now, words were pouring from my mouth and I had no way of stopping them. Where did they come from? Why was I speaking them? They scared me – and yet I could not stop.

‘There is a light within you – cling to that light throughout the darkness! Believe in that light – know that it is always there, even when the darkness is closing in and you cannot see, cannot even breathe! Brothers and sisters, you are precious! Each one of you! Know that! You are diamonds in the dust! Keep the faith!’

It was as if the crowd arose with one single heart to accept my words, to bathe in them; the cheering was louder than ever before and it was several minutes before I could speak my last words, words that would burst the bubble.

‘Brothers and sisters, thank you, thank you, thank you. I can feel your love and I know we are all joined in that love. But I must tell you one more thing. As of tonight, Theo X is no more. For personal reasons I have decided to retire from People for Justice. Please understand, please forgive me, and most of all: keep the faith.’

Utter silence descended on the gathering. For a moment it was as if the crowd was stunned, too shocked to react. But then they did react, and the concerted wail that rose almost coaxed me back to the dais. As I walked away a few people ran up behind me, grabbed my arms, tried to call me back. I shook them off. I could not go back. In fact, I was in tears. There was no return.

While speaking I had been transported away from reality, a mere mouthpiece for words I had not created, that came from who knows where. Now that it was over the stark reality burst in upon me: I was no more a part of the revolution. The realisation tore me apart.

I had thought I was making this decision for Winnie: to protect her and my family-to-be. I had seen myself as a rebel, a radical, a revolutionary, a fighter for Truth and Justice – both written with large letters. I was the one who would avenge Bhim’s death – my closest friend, killed in cold blood by my future father-in-law. I was the one who would keep Bhim’s memory alive, and work from my gut outwards to keep his mission alive.

But as I walked from that dais I knew I was none of these things. It was as if I had been struck down from on high. Smitten by a sword. You are nothing, said a voice from within, you are but a grain of dust. I walked on, weeping, a sense of disintegration, of cracking apart, tearing at my being. Now I was sobbing out loud, sobbing for a dream I could never fulfil: Theo X was dead! How I had revelled in that name, in that image! How I had basked in the sense of my own significance! How I had delighted in the adulation of others! And as Theo X crumbled into dust I wept.

I walked northwards, and so inevitably I arrived at the sSea wWall. I hoisted myself on to it and stood there, the breeze whipping my clothes and wiping dry my face. I opened my arms to the Atlantic, to the sky and the universe, and screamed, What then? Why now? Who am I? I screamed the words out loud and the wind tore them from my lips. And I closed my eyes and beat my chest as if I would beat the living heart out of myself… and the ocean beat against the shore in indifference, and the full moon sailed above in a vast and starless sky, and clouds drifted past in the pale moonlight, and I felt the pulse of the earth and my smallness in the grand scheme of things and a voice rose up in me, a voice so small it was near silent, and it said: You are. That is all. Be Here Now.

And with that voice came calmness, and no more tears, only a deep intake of breath as I settled into a renewed sense of simply being alive, and filled with joy and purpose and

Purpose! My purpose was right here, where I was, and right now, and I was neglecting it! Winnie! She was my purpose, and I had left her behind, in that confused and floundering crowd! I turned and ran.