. . .
The Voice
"Hello, my name is Ryan Withershaw, and I'm here to talk to you about something a lot of people don't have; a Voice..." I wasn't always a public speaker; I used to be an average teenage boy. As I stood on stage talking to a large group of peoples, telling them my story, I thought of the beginning. And that's what I'm sharing with you.
It was almost lunch. God, I couldn't wait to get out of my stuffy history classroom. My teacher, Mr.Shelaski, was talking about poverty in Africa, and frankly I didn't care. So what? They live all the way around the world, how is that my problem? Whatever. I rather be outside playing soccer with my friends. I turned my head to gaze out the window, I was so bored.
Slowly I could feel my eyelids getting heavy and my head drooping. The last thing I heard was my teacher droning on.
When I opened my eyes I was sitting on the ground, somewhere sandy and dry. Africa. There was a tree nearby, if you could call it that, and I saw someone hiding behind it. I got up abruptly and yelled "Whose there? Show yourself!" A little girl no taller than my shoulder came scurrying out, nearly tripping over her own feet to do so. Then she dropped to her hands and knees in front of me. I calmed down and then asked "What are you doing?"
She looked up at me like I was daft, then it turned to fright. "You told me come, no?" She had trouble speaking English.
"But why are you on your knees?" She gave me a look once again. She had dark skin, big brown eyes that hid behind long matted hair. She was so frail and thin underneath the rag of a dress she wore it was sick.
"Do I do wrong, Master?"
I sat down next to her, startling her a bit. "Sorry," I muttered and she stuck her nose to the ground again. "Oh, come on! Stop that! What's your name?"
"Banjuki Master."
"Stop all that Master nonsense, my name is Ryan. I'm dreaming right now, but still slightly confused."
"Why? Mast-Ryan."
"Well I fell asleep in class, I suppose. Why do you act like a slave?"
"I am slave. I am Children of African." I think she meant child.
"Oh." I still wasn't sure of this dream, it was fairly odd.
"You funny," she stopped herself and covered her mouth with her hands. "Sorry!"
"Why are you sorry?"
"Master! I speak out of turn! I no speak. Forbidden. Shamed. I go" She got up to leave but I grabbed her hand and she sat again. "But, I go. Punished."
"None of that now. I'm just Ryan, no Master, or sir. Just me! I want you to tell me everything." And I did. I really did, and only the lord knows why.
"Tell?"
"Yes, you know speak..." She really had no clue.
"Come, tell me your story." I stopped and just waited. And sure enough she started to tell me her story, however timidly and quiet.
"Me, sister, brother alone. Mother died, father in military. We hungry... hmm. Each day we work and work as slaves. Then come home and cook and walk long time for water...." And it went on. It seemed like hours passed by. This girl spoke telling me the story of famine, hardship, slavery, beatings, and much more. So I sat and for once I just listened. And finally she finished. She had been beaten and fallen sick, and still she rode on. Her sister had died. Her brother shot and her left for dead. The horrors this one girl has seen, and she had told no one! There was no one to tell it to! No one had listened.
It was quiet. She was done and she just sat staring at the ground. I didn't know what to say. What do you say? This girl was around nine years of age and she had gone through more in one day of her life than I had done through all of mine. A single tear welled up in my eye, and slid down my cheek. I watched it fall and hit the ground. I knew what to say. "I hear you!"
She looked up at me and a smile spread across her face, she laughed and cryed at the same time. Exasperated, she sighed out one word that seemed to echo for a million voices. "Finally" I leaned over and hugged this beautiful girl, and suring that moment I knew that it was child of African it truly was Children. She represented them all. Soon she started glowing, white light seeming to pour out of everywhere, and it continued to grow brighter until she was so bright I had to turn away. When the light faded from behind my closed eyelids, I opened them and turned around to a young woman. She was full of wisdom, and sorrow.
"Dear boy, you have heard us, the Children of Africa, now you know the cage we are caught in. The pain we feel. You feel as we feel. But there is something that you have that we, do not."
"What is that?" she smiled and seemed to chime the words,
"A Voice! We have a life of hardship. We cannot speak out of turn, say what's on our mind. We are powerless. Even as one we cannot stand up or make a difference but you can! It's your time, speak, show the world and know that we are all behind you..."
Slowly the image shifted. Everything getting fainter and farther. The last image I could make out was of Banjuki smiling and waving at me.
Then I was in class again. I jumped out of my seat knocking over my chair and interrupting the teacher. Everyone's eyes were on me.
"Sir, can I speak in front of the class please?" Eyes wide he nodded, I never did things such as this. Never. As I turned towards the class I almost sat back down again. But then I closed my eyes and for a moment I saw Banjuki nod reassuringly. I had a voice, and it was my time to speak.
So that's how it happened. I told my class, then my school, then several schools and now I'm telling National television. Each time they listened and I felt even better. I looked at the camera closed my eyes and saw Banjuki, like I always do. I don't know if what I saw was real or not but it didn't matter. I was here right now and I had a voice!
"Hello, my name is Ryan Withershaw, and I'm here to talk to you about something a lot of people don't have; a Voice..." I wasn't always a public speaker; I used to be an average teenage boy. As I stood on stage talking to a large group of peoples, telling them my story, I thought of the beginning. And that's what I'm sharing with you.
It was almost lunch. God, I couldn't wait to get out of my stuffy history classroom. My teacher, Mr.Shelaski, was talking about poverty in Africa, and frankly I didn't care. So what? They live all the way around the world, how is that my problem? Whatever. I rather be outside playing soccer with my friends. I turned my head to gaze out the window, I was so bored.
Slowly I could feel my eyelids getting heavy and my head drooping. The last thing I heard was my teacher droning on.
When I opened my eyes I was sitting on the ground, somewhere sandy and dry. Africa. There was a tree nearby, if you could call it that, and I saw someone hiding behind it. I got up abruptly and yelled "Whose there? Show yourself!" A little girl no taller than my shoulder came scurrying out, nearly tripping over her own feet to do so. Then she dropped to her hands and knees in front of me. I calmed down and then asked "What are you doing?"
She looked up at me like I was daft, then it turned to fright. "You told me come, no?" She had trouble speaking English.
"But why are you on your knees?" She gave me a look once again. She had dark skin, big brown eyes that hid behind long matted hair. She was so frail and thin underneath the rag of a dress she wore it was sick.
"Do I do wrong, Master?"
I sat down next to her, startling her a bit. "Sorry," I muttered and she stuck her nose to the ground again. "Oh, come on! Stop that! What's your name?"
"Banjuki Master."
"Stop all that Master nonsense, my name is Ryan. I'm dreaming right now, but still slightly confused."
"Why? Mast-Ryan."
"Well I fell asleep in class, I suppose. Why do you act like a slave?"
"I am slave. I am Children of African." I think she meant child.
"Oh." I still wasn't sure of this dream, it was fairly odd.
"You funny," she stopped herself and covered her mouth with her hands. "Sorry!"
"Why are you sorry?"
"Master! I speak out of turn! I no speak. Forbidden. Shamed. I go" She got up to leave but I grabbed her hand and she sat again. "But, I go. Punished."
"None of that now. I'm just Ryan, no Master, or sir. Just me! I want you to tell me everything." And I did. I really did, and only the lord knows why.
"Tell?"
"Yes, you know speak..." She really had no clue.
"Come, tell me your story." I stopped and just waited. And sure enough she started to tell me her story, however timidly and quiet.
"Me, sister, brother alone. Mother died, father in military. We hungry... hmm. Each day we work and work as slaves. Then come home and cook and walk long time for water...." And it went on. It seemed like hours passed by. This girl spoke telling me the story of famine, hardship, slavery, beatings, and much more. So I sat and for once I just listened. And finally she finished. She had been beaten and fallen sick, and still she rode on. Her sister had died. Her brother shot and her left for dead. The horrors this one girl has seen, and she had told no one! There was no one to tell it to! No one had listened.
It was quiet. She was done and she just sat staring at the ground. I didn't know what to say. What do you say? This girl was around nine years of age and she had gone through more in one day of her life than I had done through all of mine. A single tear welled up in my eye, and slid down my cheek. I watched it fall and hit the ground. I knew what to say. "I hear you!"
She looked up at me and a smile spread across her face, she laughed and cryed at the same time. Exasperated, she sighed out one word that seemed to echo for a million voices. "Finally" I leaned over and hugged this beautiful girl, and suring that moment I knew that it was child of African it truly was Children. She represented them all. Soon she started glowing, white light seeming to pour out of everywhere, and it continued to grow brighter until she was so bright I had to turn away. When the light faded from behind my closed eyelids, I opened them and turned around to a young woman. She was full of wisdom, and sorrow.
"Dear boy, you have heard us, the Children of Africa, now you know the cage we are caught in. The pain we feel. You feel as we feel. But there is something that you have that we, do not."
"What is that?" she smiled and seemed to chime the words,
"A Voice! We have a life of hardship. We cannot speak out of turn, say what's on our mind. We are powerless. Even as one we cannot stand up or make a difference but you can! It's your time, speak, show the world and know that we are all behind you..."
Slowly the image shifted. Everything getting fainter and farther. The last image I could make out was of Banjuki smiling and waving at me.
Then I was in class again. I jumped out of my seat knocking over my chair and interrupting the teacher. Everyone's eyes were on me.
"Sir, can I speak in front of the class please?" Eyes wide he nodded, I never did things such as this. Never. As I turned towards the class I almost sat back down again. But then I closed my eyes and for a moment I saw Banjuki nod reassuringly. I had a voice, and it was my time to speak.
So that's how it happened. I told my class, then my school, then several schools and now I'm telling National television. Each time they listened and I felt even better. I looked at the camera closed my eyes and saw Banjuki, like I always do. I don't know if what I saw was real or not but it didn't matter. I was here right now and I had a voice!
. . .
Hope you guys like it !!!! post any comments please, negative and positive are good, I am going to admit that it has some kinks to work out and there was a part i wanted to add in. Thank you
From a writer's perspective,
J.
