After a grueling four weeks of summer school, I think the thing I wanted the most was just to relax. Spend the remainder of my unproductive summer playing Xbox and idling about like most young male adults. However, I am nearly reaching the post-grad stage and I want to do something different this summer. Something different with my life.
Maybe I’m suffering from some low-inferiority complex. I think it’s because of the fact that I’m a 22-year-old boy. I don’t have a job, no apartment, no car and I still have my mom telling me who I can’t hang out with. It’s those little things that make me a loser. But instead of whining and talking about how much I am unimpressed with my life, I can get off my butt and do something about it.
I’m in my third year of college. Well I wouldn’t call it college, It’s a Christian school that tries hard to act like it’s like a college, so it has a really different atmosphere. For everything you can think of when you think of your typical college- the parties, the drinking, co-ed dormitories and random hook-ups, there is an appropriate substitute for those things at Liberty University.
We have things like curfew, where on-campus students have to be in their dorms around midnight but on the weekends, they get an extra thirty minutes to hang out. My school doesn’t have a city strip near its area that is lined up with trendy bars, restaurants and diners where usual college buddies go and come back from in a hysterical drunken embrace late at night.
What most students do for fun at Liberty is go ice-skating at the Lahaye Ice Center or go to the LU ski-lodge that has artificial ice-slopes so students can snowboard all year round. It’s the only one in the country. On Wednesdays, is campus church but it is more of like a rock concert for the cool preachers’ kids to meet and hang out. Sometimes in the dorms, students play ‘water pong’ because there’s no alcohol allowed on campus.
In a normal college, when you are walking to the academic building on your way to class. By all means, you’d overhear a conversation with a lot of swearing in it like “Man, I can’t believe I got a 76 on that test! What the fuck!…”
In Liberty, most students use euphemistic alternatives for the word fuck in the above sentence like this. “Man, I can’t believe I got a 76 on that test! What the frick!…” or “What the flip man!”
Oh yeah, we also couldn’t watch R-rated movies because they would tempt us in our spiritual walk with God and stuff like that. I’m not saying that our school wasn’t normal or anything, it was just different. For the most part, I liked it. It kept me grounded to a certain extent.
There are a lot more differences and other rules that I didn’t go over regarding my school but I’ll be sure to let you know when they come to mind.
-2-
Liberty University is situated on the hills coasting along the countryside slightly isolated from the city of Lynchburg in southern Virginia. It’s rather quiet and sort of a deserted city like the one in “I am Legend”, especially in the summer because most students are home for break. The first thing one of my friends noticed about Lynchburg was that people there actually held doors for you and the men always addressed you with either “sir” or “ma’am”. She really appreciates that because she is from New York.
I think the average age of the population is over 45 and most of its revenue comes from the student body at Liberty University. Slowly but surely, my school has been taking over Lynchburg by legally annexing estates, businesses and leased buildings. Making it one of the biggest corporations to date. This upcoming institution was headed by Dr. Jerry Falwell since 1971. I don’t know much about him but he was the first school chancellor and basically built Liberty University from the ground up. Solicited donations, mission trips and a ridiculous amount of PR was what Mr. Falwell used to put Liberty on a pedestal. His sole mission was to see that his school trained its students to be Champions for Christ.
I think he did well for the school. In 2007, Dr. Falwell died. When that time came, it was like Liberty lost a great man and leader. The way black followers lost Dr. Martin Luther King. Then his son Jerry Falwell Jr. became successor as Chancellor and so far, He’s been doing well without his father. He ran Liberty just the way his father did. Monopolizing every inch of Lynchburg and expanding every part of Liberty from sports to academics. Most people don’t want to admit but the Falwells run Lynchburg.
-3-
I came to Liberty University because it was the only school I applied to. If I remember correctly, I got a bunch of their application brochures through the mail. I graduated from Robert E. Lee High School with an advanced diploma, 3.5 GPA and a SAT score of 1700. My plan was to attend an in-state college like VCU or George Mason. Well, I didn’t really stick to the plan because of how unbelievably lazy and nonchalant I was at the time. I never met with my guidance counselor to discuss which college I wanted to go. I didn’t hunt down any of my professors for much needed recommendations. I avoided all the college seminars like the Black Death.
Six weeks after my graduation in June 2007, I still hadn’t applied to any colleges and I did not care. I could have done without the stress of filling applications and writing 3-page essays on how I could have added to the campus program or stuff like that. I didn’t need the hassle of applying for loans and then wait anxiously for a letter from some school that would either accept or reject me. No thank you.
I was just lost in my ignorant paradise at my older brother’s two-bedroom apartment in Alexandria. I lay down on a comfortably plush sofa with my Xbox controller in hand usually beating people online and talking smack about their moms and how much they sucked at FIFA. Nothing else mattered.
Sometimes, my mother got on my case when she gracefully bustled through the door with large grocery bags in both arms. The bags were filled with all the good stuff our almost-bare fridge desperately needed. I was grateful until she constantly kept asking me about whether I had applied to any schools and made stinging comments about me playing video games all day instead of doing something more productive. I was getting a little irritated with her but I was grateful once again when she brought out two boxes of Hot Pockets from one of the Safeway bags. Ham and Cheese. Ham and Cheese.
I helped her with the rest of groceries as we made our way into the small but very functional kitchen.
“Have you heard from VCU yet?” She asked,
“No, I just sent the application like a week ago,” I lied. Already opening one of the Hot Pockets.
“And have you also applied to George Mason?”
“Yeah, I just finished that, I’m just working on the essays right now,” I said flatly as I heated my favorite snack in the microwave for one minute and twenty-eight seconds. I didn’t heat it for two whole minutes because I don’t like to wait for it to cool down a bit. One minute and twenty-eight seconds is just enough to melt the cheese and cook the ham without scalding my tongue after I take the first bite.
The busy woman looked at her watch and grabbed her jingle of keys as they clanked and clinked together.
“Okay, I have to go, I have to pick up the laundry, go to the bank, pick up your brother from school and go back to work”
As she listed her various tasks she was yet to complete, I knew it was all too much a reminder of the cliche that a mother’s work is never done. She closed the door behind her and I got back to the sofa and my video games.
-4-
You can say Liberty came to my rescue. I was at dead-end and couldn’t keep up the facade of being responsible about my education with my family. Eventually, another month would past way beyond the application deadlines and they would have been wondering about letters from VCU and George Mason. I had no choice. By the end of summer, I was supposed to be in college.
Fortunately, this southern Baptist and private-run college was accepting applications all year round, had a 95 percent admission rate and gave me a bunch of scholarships for submitting my applications and $250 deposit on time. I also had to submit an essay about my relationship with Jesus Christ and trust me, that was easier than writing about what my contributions would be to prevent global warning and other worldly issues.
“I love Jesus…” I wrote satirically with a conceited grin spreading across my face. It’s funny, Even though I grew up in a Christian home, read the Bible, memorised John 3:16 and was forced to go to church every Sunday, I never felt like I understood this whole relationship thing with Jesus. I remember when I was about 9-years-old kneeling down in Sunday school with our preacher asking us to let Jesus into our hearts- I was nine, I literally thought His spirit would enter me until I figured that was all metaphysical and metaphoric talk at age 12. I knew God, he existed and I knew he had a son named Jesus who died for our sins on the cross but that is only because I was taught all that stuff and exposed to that culture. If you asked me if I ever believed any of it. Well, I wouldn’t be able to answer you right away.
When I finished writing my essay, I held it up and read every word about my secretly feigned faith and spiritual commitment to Jesus Christ. I chuckled to myself.
-5-
The orientation for international students was scheduled for August 10, 2007. My mother and I drove four hours from northern Virginia all the way to the south. We were coasting along long stretches of roads on the highway to ones lined with barn fences with cattle grazing on grass out in the distance from the view of my window seat. I still didn’t realize we left Alexandria until my favorite hip-hop station was lost in the static and in its place was a station that played sole country and classic rock. I didn’t mind though because “Evil Woman” by Electric Light Orchestra had me nodding rhythmically.
“Have you packed everything you needed? You are sure you didn’t leave anything behind,” My mother asked for the tenth time as she looked at the backseat of our maple-green Jeep Cherokee that was stuffed with all of my belongings and other college essentials. She pushed her dark long hair behind back. Her smooth and serious light-brown eyes turned to mine that prompted for direct confirmation.
“Yeah ma, I did. I have the list here like you told to me make,” I asserted. It was quiet again for a few moments.
“So do you like this school? is it where you want to go?” she asked.
I had to carefully think of what I was going to say and sound convincing that this is what I wanted to do. That I had chosen Liberty over everything else. When in truth, I was just succumbing to pressures of family tradition. My older brother and sister both went to good schools and made a decent living for themselves after graduation. Sure, I was going to a school my father had never heard of and was actually displeased with but I was still showing them at I was well on my way to make something of myself. Whatever that was.
So I told my mother that Liberty is a good school. It is a Christian school and not like other colleges. I won’t get distracted and that I will probably meet people that would help me grow in my faith. All of this I told her so that she feels reassured that there’s hope for her troubled son.
The sun seemed to be in a good mood as its rays blessed the flowery garden beds and added a sparkling sheen to the water sloshing from the school’s marble-stoned fountain. Making everybody aware of its warm yet surprisingly cool presence. I walked into the grand lobby of the Visitor Center where they were hosting the welcoming ceremony for the international students. Its architectural structure was like one of those buildings in Athens meant for Zeus and the other Greek gods. It had this enormous isosceles triangle resting on about 12 thick rounded Roman Ionic columns. Honestly, it seems like I’m trying too hard to describe the weather and a school building that I personally am not impressed with. I can’t effortlessly describe and picture certain landmarks in your head the way these “#1 New York Times bestseller” authors do when you pick up their fancy and glossed paperback novels from Barnes and Nobles. Nontheless, I’ll get back to the international students’ ceremony
The Grand Lobby was a huge and evenly spaced room with fancy portraits of the late Chancellor Dr. Jerry Falwell, and other important men that helped build or contribute to the college somehow. Hanging from the ceiling was an enormous chandelier sparkling with a tint of glass-stained colors. You could see your reflection from the polished and beige tiled floors with the school’s motto engraved in the center.
There were several round tables with students from various backgrounds chattering among themselves. Asking each other’s names, their respective majors and how they heard about Liberty. I noticed a girl with a petite frame possibly from South Korea get up and walk to a nicely covered stretch table stacked with breakfast items from one end to the other. Her skin in between pale and slightly tan. She helped herself to a bagel she gracefully merged with cream cheese. She then walked back with it on a paper plate to her table of friends. With a court smile on her face, she slid it to one of her friends which I would prematurely assume was her boyfriend.
I looked at my orientation guide to double-check I was at the right place and event. Before I took another step, A girl with a name-tag brushed in front of me and greeted me with an innocent smile that showed her perfectly aligned teeth.
“Hi, I’m Lisa! Are you here for the ceremony?” she asked energetically.
I had to slightly bend my head because of her short height then had to readjust when I found myself staring at her cup-sized breasts instead of her dark brown eyes. Her long dark hair was tamed in a binding ponytail. She then parted her short bangs from the center of her forehead and tucked a small strand behind her left ear. Still smiling at me.
I tried not get lost in her soft visage because she definitely surprised me but I recovered.
“Yeah, is this it?” I asked finally, I already knew it was but I always wanted more confirmation when it came to these things.
“Yes! You are just on time. We are about to go over the orientation and the big table over there’s got all the food so you can go and help yourself to anything,”
“Thanks,” I automatically said.
“So where are you from?”
“I’m from Ghana,”
“Oh that’s so cool! there are some guys here from Kenya and Nigeria too,” As she stealthily pointed out three African guys in the back of Grand Lobby cracking jokes together at their table.
“You should sit with them,” She made a good point. The ceremony couldn’t get any more segregated than it was. Everybody at their tables clung to their respective international clans. If they came from the same continent or country, shared the same background, It just made things easier going forward. I wasn’t going to break the cycle. So I walked to the table with the other African students.
-6-
My eyes opened up to an attractive girl wearing a pink tight dress popping a bottle of champagne. She stood there coyly with a flirtatious smile as always, plastered on the Sheetrock wall, almost life-like. I placed my hand affectionately on her still lips.
“Good morning Nikki,”
Sleep hadn’t left my eyes yet but I was fully aware that I had to go class. Inevitably, my cell phone started nagging at me with its annoying alarm tones that disrupted the cool calm of the morning. I reached out to silence it in apologetic fashion because my roommate Russian was fast and peacefully asleep on the bottom of our bunk bed.
I reluctantly forced myself up then hopped down to the floor. Proud of myself that I did so with little strenuous effort. I waded through piles of my text-books, several novels and assignment papers that smothered my softwood study desk. I finally unearthed a single pen from the clutter. After a few darted spurts of my Old Spice body spray, I filled my book bag with my GNED text-book and just remembered to take out the empty box of Dominoes pizza before I headed to the first class of freshman year.
Kulo from Kenya was waiting for me at the cavernous hallways of the DeMoss Learning Center. He was one of the African students I sat with at the orientation. He seemed like a cool guy because he didn’t make me uncomfortable by outwardly professing his faith like everyone else I met on the way here. And I knew we’d get along fine when he asked me to check out the ass on one of the girls from the campus tours.
He was calmly leaning on the doors that opened up to double-room classrooms bigger than the usual auditorium in high school. I saw him straightening the collar of his striped Ralph Lauren button-up shirt. It fit him snugly, his sleeves were tightly rolled up to the elbows, accentuating his biceps and chest. Typical V-shaped torso look. For the first day of school, it was obvious he dressed up nicely for it. I teased him on trying to look good for the ladies already.
“Nah man, that’s just my style,” He said laughing “Don’t hate”
“You wish,” I scoffed jokingly.
“So what class is this again?” He asked.
“I don’t know, It’s like one of those religious classes, GNED, they teach you about abortion, faith and stuff. My counselor signed me up for it,”
“Man, mine too, It’s compulsory.It’s part of your Christian Service,”
We then talked about our assigned professor Mr. Matthouse and I wondered what he looked like. Probably some typical old-fat-white-professor or some middle-aged guy that tries to show his students that he is cool and endlessly talks about his wife and kids. We realized it was time to find seats as other students flocked and bustled through the hallways into their respective classes. As we stepped in the fluorescent-lighted room, Kulo walked to the back amid all the echoing-chatter and ruffling of papers and motioned for me to follow. We sat down next to each other and I realized we were suddenly surrounded by really attractive girls. Mostly blonde, but nonetheless, a devilish grin slowly spread across Kulo’s face with a satisfying nod. I was smiling too, even though we were taking GNED at a time I thought I would never have to wake up for again since high school.
-7-
Mr. Matthouse was not an old-fat-white professor as I expected but he definitely fell into the middle-aged-man-trying-to-act-cool-with-the-students-and-talk-about-family-all -the-time category. Except it was not as annoying. His mild five o’clock shadow made him likable along with his metallic grey sports jacket over a light-blue buttoned-up shirt. His puffed cheeks and overall roundness made him resemble one of those Italian-American gangsters from GoodFellas. Paulie, I thought. He looks like Paulie.
“Alright settle down. Good morning class and welcome to Liberty! I’m Mr. Matthouse and before we begin with the first day of class, let’s pray,” he clasped his hands together, dropped his head and the sound of indistinct conversations and books faded to silence.
After he ended his prayer for a good year and other school-related requests, he continued.
“Welcome to your first class of GNED. What is GNED? It’s very important that you know and understand the concept of this very subject. It deals with the General Description of the Contemporary Issues,” As he pointed out the spelled out acronym on a projected PowerPoint he prepared for class, I noticed that General Description of the Contemporary Issues didn’t match the acronym GNED at all.
“GNED is designed to establish your Christian worldview, and to equip you all to apply it through a biblically centered decision making process in relation to various contemporary issues such as Creation, Evolution and abortion but that won’t be discussed until the later stages of this class.
Ummm, it is also intended to introduce you students to the basic principles of Christian responsibility, church and community life and service which will prepare you for your CSER, Christian Service when you reach sophomore year.
Uh, As a reminder, if you are a new or transfer undergraduate student, you must sign up for these classes during their first two “full time” semesters at Liberty before you partake in CSER. It’s very important that you do because every student needs a total of 120 hours of CSER to graduate. So make sure you see your academic advisors. Obviously all of you already have or you wouldn’t be in GNED 101. But as I said, it’s just a reminder. So! Let’s go over the syllabus,”
Damn, first day of class and I already forgot to print it out.
-8-
My roommate Russian was keeping me up. It was past 2. a.m. and he was playing Russian heavy death metal music bellowing from his incredibly loud Dual Audio Sub-woofers under his study desk. The lead singer’s voice was cranked up at full volume of a 120 watts of blood-lust growling or gut-deep grunts trying to force a stubborn turd of shit out.
There was no point in putting my pillow over my head or telling him to turn the music down. Our whole room was engulfed in a chaotic madness of drums, guitar riffs and haunting gibberish. I left the room before our RA came in and told him to shut his music down for the fourth time while writing him up.
I walked out through the hallways of our trailer dorm.. Two boys were giggling in the hallways and wrestling each other on the cold tiled floor. A group of close friends probably from the same high school were conversing about crazy moments they had together as I walked past their room. I needed to take a walk.
“Hey man, where you’re goin?” Keith my prayer leader, which is Liberty’s version of a college peer leader, stopped me short before I pushed through the double-doors. Maybe I didn’t know any better but I could feel his friendly tone and toothy smile was just a front to cover up the authoritative rush he got from being prayer leader.
“I’m just going out,” I attempted to slip by him but then he placed a seemingly friendly but stern grip on my shoulder.
“Oh I don’t mean to sound like a jerk and all, maybe you don’t know, but you can’t leave the halls after the curfew. Like, you can do whatever you want whiles you’re in the hall but students aren’t allowed to leave ’til 5 am. Just wanna make sure you know that,”
He could have gone on and given me endless lectures about other school rules but I cut him off.
“Uh yeah, I’m just gonna stand outside the door and make a call, at&t suck because I hardly get any coverage wherever I go,” I said jokingly trying to diffuse the tension between us, “I won’t be long,”
“Oh okay, yeah that’s cool. That’s cool,” he slowly backed off “My name’s Keith by the way,” he stretched out his hand to shake mine “I’m a prayer leader on this hall and if you need anything, like a prayer request or wanna talk, I’m in this room right here, so feel free alright?”
“Yeah, thanks man,” I was actually glad that he was so wrapped up in his self-importance that he didn’t bother to ask me my name. I raised my Nokia cell phone at him.
“I’ll go make this phone call, real quick,”
The streetlights were watching over me and I slowly crossed the street that surrounded the whole campus. I wondered why I even bothered walking the zebra crossing when there were no cars cruising by.
I wasn’t going to make a phone call. I lied about that. I just wanted to take a walk, clear my head. I was already regretting coming to Liberty. I just didn’t fit in. The way almost every other student couldn’t finish a sentence without the word God in it. How God had been good to them, how God made it possible for them to come here, how God just spoke to them and revealed Himself to them. The surprised and awkward looks the other guys gave me when I said I had no prayer requests in prayer groups.
I was sick of it. What the hell have I gotten myself into?
One time, I overheard one of the dorm-mates say to another guy on the hall ”That guy listens to an awful lot of secular music,” when they walked past my room.
That word made me cringe. The thought of the song “Can’t tell me nothing” by Kanye West labeled as secular was weird. My friends from public high school didn’t call it secular it was just rap. Even my strong-in-faith mother never called it that, she just asked me to turn it down.
I was so confused, the connotation left a sour taste in my mouth. So maybe the song didn’t actually praise God. Hell, I even had the clean version. But is listening to a rapper rapping about rebellion, determination and his life experiences really secular? Just because it is without a Christian element, the song is automatically deemed inferior, misguided and not suitable.
It felt like one of those movies, where I was the only unaffected survivor and everybody else was brainwashed and mind-controlled by some alien zombie element and it was up to me to uncover some deep terrible secret behind Liberty.
“Secular,”
I kept walking until I reached the Reber-Thomas dining hall which students called “The Rot” for short. Don’t ask.
Behind The Rot is a parking lot that leads to the railroad crossing parting a small road that steeps cautiously downhill to a bigger Wards Road. Right beside that is a Sonic drive-in restaurant which was obviously closed.
It was really dark out except for the minuscule spectrum of bright lights scattered far out in the distance. A fair amount of sedans, SUVs and commercial trucks zipped by in their respective lanes on Wards Road.
The white backlight brightened the keys of my cell phone. It started to vibrate furiously, Russian was calling me but I let it forward to voicemail. The time was 2:15 a.m. and my roommate was probably wondering where I was. As far as I was concerned, I wasn’t going to return to my room. My phone rang again. I instantly grabbed and tossed it as far away from me as I possibly could. I decided to walk closer to the railroad tracks. A train is coming, I thought.
It was already fall and the weather conditions were normal. Passenger trains can travel up to a 180 miles per hour, some are even geared to peak over 200 miles per hour. But only commercial freight trains pass through the railroads here. As far as I know, trains are under five types of speed restrictions — locomotive gearing, car restrictions, general track restrictions, speed through curves, and excessive grade restriction. All of which determine the speed of a freight train.
This in particular was an Intermodal train that had its locomotive cars stacked with a moderate amount of loaded cargo transporters. It was speeding through at 75 mph.
I became gripped by fear. Not for the fear that I’d be in trouble and receive disciplinary fines for violating curfew. I was scared because I didn’t understand what or why I was doing this. I’m not going back.
Out in the distance, I could hear the ominous blaring that announced the passing of the commercial freight train. I’m not going back.
I could hear my heartbeat cracking through my ribcage ferociously as I took a step closer to the railroad tracks. Aware that the train was roaring through the midnight darkness. The train’s grave horn waving over the cold night. I’m not going back.
Before I knew it, I stood in the tracks deliberately. It was coming at me and an accepting calm surrounded me. I’m not going back.
Maybe the conductor would see me and try to brake but placing myself on the track ten seconds before the train passed would make it impossible to reach 450 feet of a complete stop.
But before the enormous vehicle of hulking steel could run me over and completely tear my body apart with blood spewing from my crushed limbs.
I woke up.
“Unhhhhhhh!” I immediately sat up straight on my bunk bed, sweat beaded strongly from my forehead. I was panting desperately for quick and rhythmic suctions of air. My Nokia was still in my XL Starter gym shorts. Russian was peacefully asleep. Nikki was still plastered on the Sheetrock walls, still smiling at me.
“Geezus,” I exhaled with relief.
-9-
Rick skillfully chested the new Nike T90 Omni soccer ball from the cross I gave him 26 yards out. He got the ball shipped brand new from eBay a week ago. After he thoroughly checked it for any imperfections that the seller might have intentionally left out, he deemed the ball fully functional to play with. The ball’s innovative design of the panel geometric hexagons and pentagons were synced together in a perfect sphere. It also had a red asymmetrical band encircling the Nike swoosh logo. The ball’s technological and aesthetic look granted it instant approval to be the game ball from the other players who arrived with us at East Campus Soccer Fields
It was a 15 minute walk from my trailer dorm M-9. I strolled on a never-ending sidewalk past our football stadium until I cut on to the bridge suspended over a highway. Exiting the bridge was a long road that constantly rose and fell as I walked against the curve and quickly descended the steep end. It lead to a slightly narrow and unpaved road that was layered with white dirt and gravel. Waiting there was a long stretch of greenish plains with uneven patches of dead grass. They were all divided up into even sections from East Field 1 to East Field 5. All were stacked with goal posts and marked with white turf paint to indicate a soccer field. Apparently, it wasn’t obvious for the idiots that were playing Ultimate Frisbee until we showed up and kicked them off.
Kulo and Benedict were waiting there already and waved their stuff at me as some sort of welcomed recognition. Among them were other players practicing their touches and casually passing Rick’s ball to each other.
“Alright guys! Let’s get a game going!” Kulo said with excited impatience.
An hour after that, the game really began to intensify with competitive exchanges, rough tackles and an instinctual need to show-off with unnecessary soccer tricks. It hardly seemed like a pick-up game anymore. It was Skins versus shirts on a surprisingly cool August weekend. Shirts were sitting comfortably on a two-goal lead and were only one goal away from winning.
As Rick suspended the ball with his chest, a player charged behind him but he already evaded the tackler by turning his shoulders toward the opposing goal. He looked like he was trapped in slow-motion with the ball still dropping lightly from his chest. I marveled at his skillful ability to control the ball into the space he wanted- the first touch. His swift change in direction was so unexpected, Rick’s challenger couldn’t adjust his feet in time to continue chase and was immediately punished with a soft thud, face-down to the ground and a dirt-stained shirt. I made sure to obnoxiously yell out “Schooooled!” as a stinging reminder of the defender’s on-field embarrassment and to also chip away at his confidence. He got up, pretended as if he didn’t hear but I saw him give me a stern look. Douche-bag. I reacted with a defiant smirk. Hey buddy, That’s just part of the mental game. Rick just made you his bitch.
The rest of us skins watched Rick dribble the ball with utmost confidence. A tall and lanky dude I knew from English 101 tried to throw him off by jostling from the left but Rick effortlessly out-muscled him. Rick’s physical stature is a 190 pounds of thick muscle at 6’2- he hovered over most of us.
He looks like someone that is pathetically out of shape with his tree trunk-sized thighs and a bulging stomach. However, his enduring stamina and incredible pace to even catch up with some of the fastest players proved me dead wrong.
Rick is an international student from Nigeria. His father works as a diplomat/ambassador for the Ministry of Foreign Affairs in Abuja, which meant Rick moved around a lot with his family. Before Liberty, He and his younger brother Fola trudged through freezing sleet and snow to catch the school bus every morning. Then they’d get dropped off at the International School of Tomorrow. All because their father was posted head officer at the Nigerian Embassy in Moscow. Rick graduated a year early from his Russian high school and transferred here to Liberty in 2007. Fola would soon follow in his brother’s footsteps two years later.
Kulo and I first saw Rick at the Rot talking to three Asian girls he was eating with. They were sitting together at the opposite end of our neon-green table. We heartlessly made fun of him for the way he shyly talked to them. He looked meek and innocent. Rick then said something we couldn’t make out that made him and his cute Asian friends giggle ridiculously like good old gossip friends. His plump cheeks rose and his face stretched from the huge smile he couldn’t hide under the brim of his black Atlanta Braves cap. Baby face. Kulo suddenly gave me this “can-you-believe-this-guy?” look. I shook my head then snorted and choked with laughter. Kulo joined in too.
“What a fucking pussy,” Kulo said.
“I know, right? Cha, He’s probably a mama’s boy, one of those guys whose grown up with women his whole life,” I said while glancing over at baby-faced Rick.
“I hate guys like that, He looks like he’s from Africa but I bet he doesn’t even like playing soccer. Believe me man, I don’t chill with guys like that,”
Of course, we were dead wrong about that too.
After skipping by another shirted tackler, Rick looked up to discover he had the goal at his mercy even with the keeper knee-bent in between the posts. I chased after Rick to follow through for a tap-in just in case there was a rebound. But Rick didn’t take a second longer, he cannoned the ball with his silver Nike Legend Tiempo on his left foot into the top right corner. The keeper stretched in hopeless vain making the shot look even better. After he planted his left foot and brought down his right, he was surrounded with several excited and congratulating teammates.
“Nice goal!” I high-fived Rick. Kulo patted him on the back and roughed his short-buzzed hair
“Shit, that was a wicked shot man, I see you learning real quick from me,” Kulo said pretending to patronize him.
“Yo’ Modda! Did you see the way I chested the ball? See that sweet FIRST TOUCH! Thierry Henry baby!” Rick started to blow his horn and dance like Michael Jackson. That was his signature celebratory style.
“Kwasia! Don’t forget who gave you that cross,” I reminded him while Kulo laughed on in breathless fits.
“Challay, Challay, Don’t give me that, it was all me after that, did you see the way I schooled all those guys. Three defenders! HE-HEEEE,” Rick tip-toed and grabbed at his crotch like the King of Pop but only not as graceful.
“Okay whatever, let’s get back to the game they are getting ready to kick-off,”
We skins won the game 5-4. Rick scored three goals, a hat-trick.
After our comeback victory, we decided to celebrate none other than the Rot. It was me, Kulo and Rick. The sweat had just dried from the pores of our skin while we were cooling in the air-conditioned area. We lounged at the diner-style booth seats in a closed section right next to the salad bar. When we first went on the campus tour, Our orientation guide explained to us the Rot had been re-modeled and expanded to give it a state-of-the art modern look.
Through the resident entry, the first thing you noticed was the onslaught of all the vibrant colors you could pick out from a Crayola pack.
There was an atrium of space with partitioned and sectioned off walls that ranged from tangy red to peachy yellow and orange. Some of them were randomly spotted with huge dark circles like that of a beetle. The floors changed color from red in the main lobby to Barney purple in the Main Dish area to sky blue in the pizzeria. All the various colors of the scratched marble flooring intersected and mixed like a kaleidoscope. Each particular food section had a various collection of smooth multi-colored table tops and rough-textured cushion chairs for all kinds of seating. They were functionally organized in the appropriate and designated spaces for relaxed eating and conversation. Except for the circular booths in the hidden corners of the dining hall. They were scientifically flawed because you barely had room to fit your plate right next to anyone’s while you squished in with them and you constantly had to get up to make way for someone that suddenly wanted to get ice-cream for dessert.
After a week of school, the three of us had already picked out our favorite spot. We sat in a spacious area between the apple-green and hot-pink walls beside the main drink fountain. We joined two rectangular-shaped tables together to create extra space for our trays of burgers, pizza and sodas we hand-picked. Other people Kulo knew gathered among us and we made acquaintances before the three of us got into a closed and private conversation.
“Yo, Do you remember my roommate Chris?” Kulo asked?
I held my finger up with a mouthful of The Rot’s smokey and burnt version of a cheeseburger before I swallowed. “Yeah, you introduced us when we came by your dorm yesterday, What about him?”
Chris is Kulo’s roommate from Phoenix, Arizona. He’s a typical preacher’s kid coming from the typical strong Christian home. His father a pastor and missionary who traveled all over the world, especially to third-world and developing countries so he could share the Gospel with the unbelievers. I also wasn’t surprised when he told us he’d been home-schooled since kindergarten until now. But unlike some of the home-schooled kids here at Liberty, he wasn’t embarassed to mention that. In fact, he didn’t give a damn. I respected that much about him.
Rick and I entered dorm M-6 at the Circle. We stopped and knocked on room 118. Moments later, the door swung lazily open with Chris standing there bare-chested. He was very tall with extremely tan skin for a white guy. At first I thought it was from summer but it looked too natural. His bronzed complexion was complemented with random and speckled brownish birthmarks. One on his shoulder blade, one on his chest and another on the wry of his neck or the Torticollis. I learnt that in Biology 102.
“What’s up man?” Rick greeted him amiably.
“Hey,” Chris greeted back.
“Is Kulo in?” I asked.
“Yeah, he’s in here chilling,” He removed his skinny but definite frame from the doorway to let us in.
Kulo was on his HP laptop that had stylish and metallic black casing. I saw him working on some music application, which let him mix his music and edit his playlists. He was listening to classic hip-hop by “A Tribe Called Quest” and believe me, I liked it better than that heavy metal garbage Russian banged in our room every other night.
“Wassup Muthafuckas!” He said that with such swagger and disregard, we saw Chris raise his eyebrows so high with shock that Rick and I were immediately shrouded in awkwardness. This poor home-schooled kid had probably never heard such language in his life. I didn’t want to be part of the group that awakened him to this harsh real-world influence. Even if we were in this constructed bubble of a Christian school, kids like Chris were always going to be exposed to others who didn’t grow up like he did. The worse thing about it too, some of these parents don’t even prepare their home-schooled kids for that.
Kulo took off his large yet futuristic BOSE headphones. We clasped and gripped our palms that ended with a shoulder “No homo” hug. We saw Chris ignore us at his desk and began to read his Bible.
***
While we waited for Kulo to tell us about his roommate, a girl that looked like a cross between a brunette and red-head walked up to Kulo’s side of our table. She introduced herself as Karen then forgot about us as she turned her attention to Kulo. She had a sensual smile appear on her slender face and asked Kulo if he was still coming for some group meeting in DeMoss. Kulo smiled back and said he’d be there. She nodded in approval, “Okay, see you then, and it was nice meeting you,” she smiled at us again but this time I was sure it was rather forced. She walked off gracefully as if she were a model trying hard to impress an audience at a runway show. Inadvertently, I found myself staring at the rear of her skinny piped-leg jeans from Old Navy.
“Damn, she has a cute piece of ass,” Kulo said out loud as if he read my thoughts.
I turned to Kulo and quickly probed for him to tell us about Chris before Rick could ask more about Karen.
“Yeah she does, so yeah, what were you going to say Chris?”
“Oh yeah, alright yo, So what you guys got planned for the weekend?” Kulo asked.
“Cha, Some guys asked me to come play soccer with them at East,” Rick said.
“That sounds cool, I think I’ll come,” I said without realizing I invited myself.
“Well, that’s cool but you guys will be playing ’round in the afternoon right? Me I’m talking late at night,”
We looked at Kulo deeply puzzled. What else was there to do late at night in Lynchburg? Especially when the mall closed at 9 p.m. and at six on the weekends? What could you do apart from see a movie at the dollar theater, get a gratifying cheeseburger from Hardee’s before everyone got bored and decided to go back their dorms so they wouldn’t miss midnight curfew? There was only so much you could do when you were hanging out in Lynchburg.
“Alright look, there’s gonna be a house-party somewhere on Fort Avenue, I think it starts around ten and it’s cool yeah? Because this school is so boring yeah? I mean, people are so weird and stiff here. You mention the word party and they start to give you dirty looks. You tell people you drink, then all of a sudden you’re the devil and shit like that. Like I can’t understand how you think staying in this wack campus and playing Guitar Hero on the weekends is fun. Me, I’ve been having a stressful week and I’m just tryna chill and unwind. On top of that mad girls are gonna be there but I’m not gonna stress that. I’ll leave that to you guys,” He chuckled, “You’d be surprised man, there’s gonna be mad fine girls in there. Especially the girls that pretend to be all holy and raise their hands up all high in campus church. They’re gonna be the same bitches you see getting drunk and making out with the first dude they see. Anyways, it’s going down tonight so do you wanna go?”
“Yeah, that sounds tight, So like, where did you hear about this party?” Rick asked?
Kulo took a long sip from his hot cup of tea then flashed a sinister smile. “Chris told me,”
-10-
As we stepped out the exit of the Rot, we made our way through the crowded spaces of other students walking too slowly in front of us. I noticed right in front of the brick building was work of short cultivated shrubs and other small plants that aligned around the building. At the end was a moderately Christmas-sized tree that stood over the rest of vegetation. I heard some girls call it the Gum Tree which is self-explanatory in its sense. It was completely decorated with a rainbow of dried and masticated wads of gum. Disgusting as it was, I strangely thought it complemented The Rot nicely and it also served as a specific landmark for friends to meet. We finally reached the Rot parking lot, then walked on the sidewalk of a one-way street that provided a quick route to the highway or the nearby Wal-Mart. Leaving the sidewalk, we crossed a narrow intersecting paved road that led to a long flight of tiny concrete steps.
They forced you to take tiny baby steps one at a time unless you bypassed them by raising your knee high enough.
Back in the 90′s when students were supposed to wear uniforms, they called them princess steps so girls could walk them very gracefully. The steps also prevented guys from trying to look up the girls’ skirts. We finally arrived at the top of the princess steps and sat at an oak bench in front of a dorm at the Hill.
“So you’re telling me Chris told you about this party?” I asked Kulo with uncertainty.
“Yeah man,” Kulo said. “Chris told me all about it,”
“Haha, you can’t be serious. I mean…” Rick looked left, then right and then looked left again. “I thought he was Liberty Way,” Rick said in a lowered voice, as if it were taboo to mention those words.
Nah, he’s cool. He ain’t Liberty Way,” Kulo said reassuringly.
“Bullshit!” Rick said calling him out “Did you see the way he was acting around us when we came by your dorm? He was so awkward around us. He’s definitely Liberty Way!” Rick stressed.
Yeah I thought that too but he was just putting up a front. I’m telling you, Chris is crazy man. He’s got a shitload of porn on his computer and I walked in on him jerking off too. Haha. He begged me not to tell but I told him not to worry about it ‘cuz we were cool. You know me, I’m no snitch. Then he told me about this party he was going too. He wanted me to come along. He said it was gonna be tight,” Kulo said unable to wipe the smile off his face. “Believe me, I had those look on your faces when he was telling me all this,”
Rick and I were open-mouthed and stunned. We looked at each other then started to chuckle. “That’s crazy,” I said. “I seriously thought he was Liberty Way,” Rick said in disbelief.
Remember how I talked about how Liberty was different because of all the rules they had? I forgot to mention all these rules originated from a policy and conduct document known as The Liberty Way. At first, I thought it was another just another students’ rights and responsibilities handbook that I wouldn’t bother paying any attention to. The Liberty Way is also a honor code that addresses both curricular and co-curricular misconduct and is an integral part of the Liberty University community. According to the document it is dedicated to obtaining a superior education in fidelity to the Christian faith expressed through the Holy Scriptures. It became central to preserving the Liberty community. So through an authoritative and collegiate society, they determined what actions preserved and glorified Christian faith through their own human interpretations of the Bible. As a result, the Liberty Way became a contract that students had to pledge a personal commitment to and conduct themselves in a manner that reflected the highest ideals of holiness, virtue and professionalism. It requires that all students have a duty to report promptly all circumstances which they believe constitutes a clear and major violation of the Honor Code to the Office of Student Conduct. Failure to correspond to the said policies results in student fines and disciplinary reprimands (reps for short)
This is nothing new. It’s just regular policy. Every educational institution needs rules and regulations that is governed by some hierarchy or system. The rules and policies were easy to follow, the instructions were pretty clear. They were carved in the stone like the Ten Commandments and we the students were to obediently follow them.
But what really bothered me, Kulo and Rick about the Liberty Way was that it asked us to be something we really weren’t. It took from us some independence. Everybody else reacted the same way to it. They either complained about all the rules then got on with their on-campus lives or complained about all the rules then moved off campus just to avoid Convocation and mandatory hall meeting with 10 o’clock curfew on Tuesdays.<
The document also addresses academic dishonesty, plagiarism, or falsification of a school document- that was the stuff any student should try to avoid at best. They were red flags and any student with common sense knew they were academically and morally wrong. In any case, it is unacceptable. My mind wouldn’t dare think about it. However, a little bit of harmless cheating is forgivable because it happens often. There were always loopholes around that area. You could read answers from the textbook when you were taking a quiz online. Sometimes, a friend would inform you about what questions to expect on the same quiz he took last period. If you got stumped on one question, you couldn’t help but sneak a desperate look at another student’s scan-tron. Even the professors encouraged it. Before the mid-term test even started they already gave you 4 of the answers because they made several “mistakes”
These are just subtle acts that have been ingrained in every academic system. As far as I’m concerned, there’s not one student who hasn’t cheated in some way or form.
Substance abuse, sexual harassment and racial harassment or discrimination is not tolerated either on the grounds of the Liberty Campus either. However, through our experience, all the rules within the Liberty Way suffered from so many inconsistencies and faults that we couldn’t take them seriously.
In reference to substance abuse, Alcohol, tobacco or controlled substances are not allowed on campus. As a result, Liberty prohibits the possession, use, manufacturing or distribution of such substances by its students- on or off campus.
The part about the no alcohol bothered Kulo a lot because he likes to drink. He stated that rule was bullshit when we first talked about the Liberty Way.
“I understand where Liberty is coming from but they make it look like people who drink are sinners. It’s when it’s out of moderation then you are sinning. I mean Jesus drank. That’s in the Bible right? On top of that, I am 22, I am old enough to drink. At 22 you’re telling me I can’t relax with some Heineken? Man, they really brainwash people with this stuff,” Kulo said.
“Yeah, but I think the reason they don’t allow alcohol on campus is because not everybody can hold their liquor. I don’t think it’d look good for a Christian school if they had students acting like idiots and puking on campus,” I countered.
“That’s a good point so that’s why I go off campus,” Kulo said.
“Nah, you’re not allowed not to drink off campus either,” Rick butted in.
“So? like how are they gonna know I’ve been drinking off campus? And if I was caught drinking off campus by another student and he decided to snitch, the question they’ll ask him is what was he doing there in the first place. I’d only get in trouble if I was caught by a professor or a dean or some shit like that. And even if someone knew I was partying like a friend or roommate and told the RA, all I have to say to that is- that’s some fucked up shit. I wouldn’t talk to that person anymore, even if he was following the rules,” Kulo finished rationalizing.
With sexual harassment, any act of harassment whether physical, psychological, verbal or sexual that threatens an individual is considered a serious offense and will not be tolerated or condoned. Educational programming is provided to promote the awareness of rape, acquaintance rape, sexual harassment and other sexual offenses. Any person or group who commits acts of harassment based upon race, ethnicity, gender or disability on or off campus will be subject to disciplinary action, which could result in dismissal from the University.
However, whenever we walked by a group of attractive girls, the three of us would always make comments about their huge asses, their perky tits, their voluptuous hips and pretty faces. We didn’t mean any disrespect or any sexual objectification by that. We were just really observant. We had to be careful though. You can’t tell a Liberty girl that she’s hot on campus, she’d take offense to that and report you to the student court faster than you could say 12 reps. But if you told another girl from Liberty that she was hot at some club or house-party, she’d immediately flirt right back and start grinding on you so hard until your penis ripped through your denim jeans.
Liberty’s rules on racial harassment or discrimination are also assertive. The purpose of this policy is to ensure that all members of the Liberty University community understand the prohibition against racial discrimination or harassment. All members of the University community are encouraged to reflect upon the issue of racially offensive material, discrimination and harassment as it might affect the lives and conduct of others. Further, anyone who may be the victim of racial discrimination or harassment should be aware of the procedure for reporting such incidents. Yet, incidents of race and stereotyping within our campus society occurred all the time. Black male students talked and referred to each other as dumb ignorant slaves. The word nigga riddled their conversations at the beginning, middle and end of every sentence. I overheard some white students call black students niggers behind their backs when they thought nobody was listening. Domestic students made fun of international Asians and called them stupid because they either spoke English funny or didn’t know any. Occasionally, Hispanic students were collectively referred to as Mexicans, spicks, or illegal immigrants. Everybody complained all the Kenyans were loud and did nothing but party, get drunk and fight (From my experience that is true to a certain extent)
I won’t lie, I am among the group of students who made some of these stereotypes or racist comments even if I said so to get a good laugh out of my friends. But it’s never funny when you experience it yourself or fall victim to it
I remember walking to my dorm one day when my eyes flashed up to the Confederate flag hoisted high up in the bright sky from a pole at our football stadium. The wind blew through it vigorously, making the white stars on cross-blue borders in the red background move in a full wave-length pattern. To be honest, I didn’t know much about the history of the flag but I was automatically wrapped up in searing anger flowing through my body. I suddenly armed myself with calculated caution. I walked by other students who were also upset at the display and wondered why Liberty would do something so messed up.
Despite Liberty’s stance on racism, here in Lynchburg, the south, it is very backwards in terms of race relations. One of my friends Byron, whom I met later my freshman year, was in an interracial relationship with Nadine Summers. They couldn’t walk anywhere on campus without drawing some sort of unwarranted attention. Byron would tell me about the way both black and white students stared at them with awkward looks, all the while trying to suppress their disdain and disgust. A white guy dating a black girl compared to a black guy with a white girl, it was rare and more looked down upon. Some of his white friends asked him questions like “Wait, you like black girls?” “They are so intimidating. Don’t they scream and get mad at you all the time?” or “is it purple down there?”
Even one of Byron’s childhood friends stopped talking to him as soon he heard about Nadine. In a way, I felt sorry for them. They would be forever victims of this social vice.
Then there were the rules within the Liberty Way that were downright ridiculous.
4 reps and a $10 fine for:
- Music code violation
- Disturbance/non-participation during Convocation
6 reps and a $25 fine for:
- Attendance at an unsupervised dance or party
12 reps and $50 fine for:
- Attendance at, possession or viewing of an “R”-rated movie
- Students of the opposite sex visiting alone at an off-campus residence
18 Reprimands, $250 Fine and 18 hours of Disciplinary Community Service for:
- Consumption of, or association with those consuming alcohol
- Obscene, profane or abusive language or behavior
Well with the abusive language, that’s actually a necessary rule but swearing was such a fused part of my personality. Trying to refrain from saying “Fuck!” was like cutting my own arm off.
As I read through the other lists of reprimands and consequences. I realized I was everything but The Liberty Way. I had violated a substantial amount of rules of the sacred document. Sleeping during convocation, improper sign out, violation of curfew, swearing, drinking, partying, watching internet porn, and making out with a chick that happened to be a lesbian I barely knew 10 minutes. Enough to get suspended but I was either given a second chance by my RA, swore Russian to secrecy or never got caught.
But what is more annoying than the Liberty Way are the students who follow it to every detail and uphold it with their lives. The stiff, butt-plugged and bible-quoting squares that constantly try to remind you about all the rules. We labeled them Liberty Way.
Remember, guys and girls can’t hug each for more than 3 seconds! 3 second rule guys! Hey, that’s not Liberty way! Wake up! You can’t sleep in convo, that’s not the liberty way! Gasp! Watch your language! that’s not the Liberty way! Did he just say he’s in love with a stripper? Why are you playing such vile music? That’s not the Liberty way! Is that movie Rated R? You know that’s not the Liberty Way!
These group of people were like annoying nagging wives that wouldn’t let you watch a good game. Major downpours. To us they were plugged within in the Liberty Matrix. Constantly fed all these “truths” that became their reality. Brainwashed into believing that hugging for more than 3 seconds made them bad Christians. They followed it religiously while we rebelled against the system. We were like outcasts living in this brave new world. Anybody we suspected of the Liberty Way syndrome or showed any symptoms, we avoided them for our safety. They were our enemies and couldn’t be trusted.
Rick, Kulo and I weren’t the only ones who fought the Liberty Way. There were many other kids like us here on campus. A small of army of us who covertly planned our strategies to go off campus and do whatever the hell we wanted, be whatever we wanted instead of putting up this goody-goody facade. We were who we were.
We formed an unspoken alliance with the others through sly smiles, approving nods and reassuring glares after a late night of partying. We bonded over free conversations, drinking, swearing, and a love for hooking up. It even came as a pleasant surprise or a huge relief when we saw other students we had definitely labeled Liberty Way hanging out at a party.
“Yo! Byron! What are you doing here?” I asked looking very confused and suspicious. I started looking left and right.
“One of my friends texted me this address to this party so I came,” He said laughing.
“For real? Haha. I thought you were Liberty Way,” I taunted.
Byron looked like he had been insulted, “Oh, God no! I’m nothing like that at all. I mean I like to have fun. I don’t see anything wrong with that,” Byron took a swig from his Budweiser and I burst out into relieved laughter. And just like that Byron had suddenly found his way into my cool group of trusted friends.
-11-
The very reason God created us is so that we might know Him Personally.
***
I stared at my King James Bible with indignant eyes. My hands glossed over its smooth pages that were bound by a rough and leathery spine. I tried to take in the verses of Matthew but I couldn’t comprehend any of the phrases or diction. The ‘ye’s’ and ‘thous’ punctuated and threw off my trail of thought on every line.
It was given to me by my older sister Ama on one forgettable Christmas. She left home back in Ghana for Vassar College while my oldest brother Kwesi left for Saint John’s University in 2000. They both pulled off ridiculously high scores on their SAT exams and it’s been that way ever since. They raised the bar in every academic department. Our father was nothing but full of praise for the way they studied and completed homework. Consequently, as the youngest, I was expected to follow in their footsteps and implement the same work ethic in my education. The problem was that I was never as focused as they were nor achieved much academic success. Kwesi had won every student award/honors I could possibly think of. The cream-shaded walls of his room were stocked with certificates encased in fine glass. They dated back from kindergarten to his final years in high school. Ama always finished in the top 5 of all of her classes in one of the best schools in Accra. She usually led first in biology, Math and English. As for me, I don’t think I was off to a good start in my academic career when I already failed kindergarten.
My mother always urged me to study, study study and have PMA. Positive Mental Attitude- to never give up. When I ached and fumed at my homework because I couldn’t add two plus one, she was there to edge me on. PMA, PMA, PMA. Don’t give up, you can do it. Suddenly, I wasn’t in my dorm room anymore, My study desk had disappeared in front of me along with Nikki and the rest of my text-books.
In front of me stood tall black gates with fancy and gothic artwork railings. It had branched vines with thorns that sprawled on top of them. I took a hesitant step closer then the gates slowly creaked open as if they sensed my presence. They opened up to a spacious driveway that looked familiar.
I walked over the concrete driveway decorated with tiny pebbled-gems and hedged grass sprouting several inches from the edges. I looked to my right and could see a huge garden and a flock of tall evergreen trees swaying peacefully in the wind. In between two of those trees, I could see something like a fishnet that was tied to their opposing trunks like a hammock. I concluded it served as goal net. There was also a soccer ball wallowing in its deflatedness a few feet away. I picked it up. My initials were branded in. I’ve been here before.
I stood in the open driveway, filled with sudden reverence. Once I saw the basketball rim without the net, I knew where I was. Behind the rim, my eyes glanced at the doubled-door garage. Its brown-coated paint was chipped and almost fading.
The garage was only a small part of this huge property I stood at. Outside this house looked like an enormous white building with columned arches that connected to a thick brown platform that went around the house. Under that it rested on a smoothed castle stone foundation. I walked through a door that led to another spacious balcony. The balcony blossomed with a vast display of exotic plants sitting in groveled stone pots. They flourished in harmony making the area feel like a natural habitat.
On the left side of the lively balcony were sliding doors bridged by metal frames with fiber glass in between them. I pressed my hands against the doors and felt the cool touch of the frames pass through. I slid the doors open and walked into a vast and wonderfully furnished living room. Its inner walls were layered with scaled brick. The silver colored marbled floor, the fancy glass sculptures on a sturdy mahogony coffee table in the center, and the glass cased cabinets that held a world of books. That was just one side of the living room as it was parted by a brick piller, On the other side of the marbled flooring was a grand dinner table. It was made up of some other kind of fancy wood I couldn’t name.
An open doorway led to another open-spaced living room with a huge tubed television fitted in a tall and golden softwood stand. It had contraptions that held VHS’s, DVDs and giant books.
As I explored more of this place, I found out that it had 5 bedrooms, 3 bathrooms including a guest toilet that smelled of rose petals. I went on to the kitchen and it sparkled in clinical neatness, the cedar cabinets hanging high up from the wall were stacked with everything it needed, from cinnamon to curry spices. My hands glided on smooth red-top counters that themed the area. I looked high above the plastic yet sturdy sink. There were small lever glass windows that opened up to a view of a vineyard behind double doors. The vineyard shone vividly in its green and yellowish aura and guided the sunlight into the kitchen, as if it wanted to share its spotlight. I turned my eyes once I realized it struggled to bear fruit. Strangely, the quiet humming of the fridge and its bulking white presence caught my attention. Mainly, because of the fact that I was getting hungry as well.
I opened up the fridge and it bathed my face in its glorious glow with all the food staring right back of my face. My eyes started to search too rapidly trying to pick something out I could eat quickly. Butter bread, peanut butter, strawberry jam, eggs, milk, carrots, cheese, apples, grapes, mangoes, orange juice, tuna, ketchup, relish, ice-cold can of orange Fanta, a small tub of chicken drumsticks. I grabbed the Fanta and drumsticks.
I tore the cold meat from the bones and followed it quickly with a swig from the chilled can but I was instantly surprised to discover that I couldn’t taste a thing. My taste buds couldn’t decipher the flavorful aroma and juicy meatiness of the chicken nor embrace the carbonated sweetness that was supposed fizzle on my tongue. Worse, it made me hungrier and thirstier. I tried the other stuff in the fridge but my sense of taste had completely vanished. What the hell is going on?
Then I could hear screams and pained grunts in the coming from one of the bedrooms. I heart started to jump and my body heightened with anticipation. I could hear the unmistakable sounds of bones breaking. Then more screams and painful groans. Fight or Flight.
I took off running, faster than I ever thought I had, but I slipped and knocked over a porcelain bowl of fruit and it cracked into pieces on the smooth tiles of the kitchen floor. Oh Jesus, they’re gonna hear that!
I heard a door swing open. Oh God! The screams got louder, I could hear someone getting beat to death. Then a voice bellowed from the room, “FINISH HIM!!” Wait, is that Mortal Kombat?
I got myself up and lightly creased the fruit away from my jeans. I wanted to know who was playing one of my favorite video games of all times. I stepped closer to sounds echoing blasting from the room. I walked past the dark brown door, which was already open and and walked into a very white room. White tile floors, and a Roots poster on the white floor with a twin bed beneath metal frame windows. There was little kid, maybe about seven years old with a Sega Genesis controller in his hands. He pressed a series of buttons that made his controlled fighter completely rip out his opponent’s spine on the small Panasonic TV screen. The kid laughed gleefully.
His hair grew wildly into a mini-fro. For a little kid, he surprisingly had huge lips and thick devilish eyebrows that always looked stern. His flat cheekbones made him look solemn and cool. He must have been well ahead of puberty with his slight adam’s apple.
“Aren’t you too young to play that kind of video-game?” I asked authoritatively. He didn’t even flinch or turn any attention to me whatsoever. Completely unstartled, he just kept on playing.
“HEY! did you hear me?” I asked, slightly annoyed. The boy kept on playing. I waved my right arm at him in his direction. Nothing.
“Shit!” the kid yelled out in disappointment from the video game but he wasn’t talking to me.
“Yo, watch your language!” I said in a scolding tone but this kid didn’t even notice I was there. Everything I did to get his attention was fruitless. I had enough and walked up to him and tapped him but the kid didn’t even react to my touch. As if he were dead. What is really going on here?
I stepped back awkwardly to the door. I didn’t know what to say or do. Then a girl quickly brushed by me into the young boy’s room. She didn’t even seem to notice me as well. I didn’t see her face but I was staring at the back of her hair which was stylized into strong and medium sized braids. Probably his older sister.
She folded her arms and cocked her slender hips to the side. A serious look streaked her face. She was in no mood for games.
“Have you finished your homework?” she asked. That voice sounds so familiar.
The probably seven-year-0ld looked exasperated and secretly rolled his eyes. Annoyed at the fact his bossy big sister had come to ruin his violent fun.
“Not all of it, I’m taking a break,” he mumbled soft-spokingly. His voice sounded nasal at times.
“Well, why don’t you finish all of it before you start playing video games?”
“I will,”
“No, now. You know what you’re supposed to do, If you just did the right thing, no one can say anything about what you’re doing. Seriously, I really don’t need to stand here and beg you to finish your own homework,”
She was right even with her harsh tone but to the little kid she was just drilling him and trying push him around.
“Then get out of my room and leave me alone,” he snapped defiantly. I was disgusted at his blatant disrespect. “Hey, you don’t talk to your older sister like that,” I shouted but of course, I was just a ghost in the room. The teenage girl had had enough of the kid’s attititude. She walked briskly up to the TV and shut the Sega Genesis off. And just like that, The kid immediately burst out in an enraged fit, trying to murder his own sister like the fighters in Mortal Kombat. I stood there, shocked.
“YOU STUPID BITCH! WHY DID YOU DO THAT!” he hit at her with his little fists, trying to pound at every inch of her body but she managed to parry most of them away. Finally, she grabbed him by the arms, shook him a little and knelt down in front of him.
“LEAVE ME ALONE!” The kid yelled in heightened protest. “I was on the final stage! I e was fighting Shao Kahn, now I have to start all over again!”
“Hey! calm down! is that how you’re talking to me? Like who do you think you are?” She shook him again and tightened her grip.
“Look at how angry you’re getting because of a video game. Hey, look at me. Do you think I’m trying to worry you? I’m not. Really, I’m not trying to throw my weight about and stop you doing what makes you happy. But doing whatever you want all the time isn’t the right thing. That’s what you need to know. And you need to show more respect, I didn’t come here to fight you but when you don’t listen when I’m trying to explain things to you, then we’ll always be going through this. And I don’t want that,”
She looked hard in his dark brown and sunken eyes. I could see he was wrapped up in bitterness and he heard everything he said but he didn’t want to listen. “Do you understand?” she asked promptly. No response but for his head sunk at his chest. She tried to lift his head up, “Kwame? Do you understand? Kwame.”
“Yo, Kwame!” I heard a sharp rap on the door. I looked up startled to find myself back in my dorm room. My fingers were roughing up the pages from the bible. I wiped the tiredness from my eyes and Keith was standing at the door.
“You fall asleep there buddy?” Keith asked
“Yeah,” I said.
He chuckled, “Well, hall meeting is coming up and we got prayer groups after that. So um-uh, bring your Bible,”
“Yeah, ‘kay, I’ll be there in a sec,”
Once Keith left my room, I closed up my bible. It was ten o’clock. God, I fucking hate prayer groups
By Leo W. Gerard:
