I woke up in the stillness of the early morn. Mornings in Kerala, India were peaceful and beautiful.
A gentle breeze wafted through the windows as I got up rubbing my eyes. Sleepily, I stumbled to the window and looked out. A purple predawn with streaks of blue greeted me. I held the bars of the windows tight, my knuckles white as I looked down at the old house with its sloped tiled roof and narrow verandah running around the house. The mango tree was still at the corner and the grass was wet with dew. My gaze fell on the corner room, “the secret room”. As an inquisitive five-year-old, I had run in to hide behind a wooden dresser locking the door behind me not realizing someone was in the room, an older man sitting on a sofa. He pulled me and had me sit on his lap as he asked me questions about my parents. I squirmed as he was holding me tightly, trying to break free. The more I squirmed, the more he smiled squeezing my cheeks and touching my lips. My eyes filled and my lips quivered. He heard someone’s voice and pushed me hastily from his lap. I rushed out of the room and fled up the gentle hill covered with rubber trees. The dry leaves crunched under my bare feet as I ran, my heart pounding with fear. I crossed the road and rushed through the green paddy fields to a little island of mango groves, land that belonged to my mother. I didn’t know what had happened. It just felt wrong. He was the first bee.
My eyes fell on the short wall around the old house. I remember sitting on the packed wall at night as we watched my aunt’s pre-wedding party. The place was crowded with laughter, the smell of fresh jasmine flowers, the shine of gold bangles in the kerosene lamps, the constant chirp of crickets, and the occasional blip of a firefly in the inky darkness of the night. Everyone’s attention including mine was on the bride when I felt arms lift me and the smell of a cigarette breath next to my cheek. I was settled on his lap, his one hand a steel trap around my waist, while his other hands settled between my legs. As his arthritic fingers hurt my sensitive flesh, I bit hard on his hand and escaped to the safety of my mother and the kerosene lamps where insects threw themselves as living sacrifices. I don’t know what he looked like as I never looked back. He was the second bee.
As the dawn broke, the birds broke into their cheery cheeping, the roosters competing to wake the household up. I went downstairs, made my coffee and sat on the open “sit out” steps shivering in the slight cold. This home was the new residence and the old house had been given for rent. I reflected on the other bees over the years. Was it my naivety or my innocence that attracted them? I trusted easily and did not discern motives when playing “doctor Nurse” or “Father-Mother” with male cousins which were supposed to be a “secret”. I was afraid to confide to my mother as I thought she would think that I was a bad girl and not like me anymore. As I grew up, I realized the game was an excuse to touch inappropriately and stopped playing. I stopped sitting by myself, reading books where the bees always found me. I avoided them and made sure I was surrounded by others especially at parties.
When it was time to go to college, I chose a college far away in India’s capital Delhi, a three-day ride by train. As my brother and I traveled through green pastures where cows munched grass contently and over rushing streams with dragonflies hovering, their wings glistening in the sunlight, I resolved to keep my body to myself and stay away from the bees. As the sunset hit the long railway bridge and the shadowed fishermen made their way back home on the boats, I sat on the steps of the speeding train enjoying the breeze whipping my hair into a whirlwind! In college, I became the mischievous naughty girl who always lead the class in fun escapades. I read to my heart’s content in my small single room that boasted of a narrow bed, a table, a chair, and a closet for clothes! Looking out of the glass window to the bustling city below where cars crawled during rush hour on the flyover, I resolved never to have a boyfriend and focus on my studies and explore Delhi.
Every Saturday, I would board a Delhi Transportation Cooperation(DTC) bus and explore the city. My favorite haunt was Lodhi gardens that were green, lush, and reminded me of Kerala, my hometown. The architecture was beautiful with old tombs and plenty of places for me to safely sit and read uninterrupted. Funny, even though the place was filled with the fragrance of flowers, I was far away from the bees. Another place, I loved to visit and ruminate was the lotus temple which sat on acres of landscaped land with seven pools. The clear waters in the pools and the soaring ceilings of the main hall always bought a sense of peace anytime my mind was in turmoil. The bees came but I had learned to look them in the eye and swat them away.
Later in life, I worked in Saudi Arabia in a village near the Yemen border. The silence at night in the desert with huge stars hanging out for company as I sat on the steps of my flat at 2 am in the guarded primary care center surrounded by sand dunes for miles around was peaceful. The desert soil was surprisingly fertile with white coriander flowers and cherry tomatoes and juicy squash, my flatmate being an avid gardener. Our holiday was on Fridays and a group of us who were from different parts of the world would sit on top of the flat terraces eating international cuisines. I developed a love for Egyptian stuffed grape leaves, Philippine empanadas, Sri Lankan pineapple rice, and Kerala chicken curry. We climbed up a ladder to the terrace and sat on blankets. Sometimes we would crouch under the blankets when a sudden dust storm blew by! We would then climb down with stray sand in our hair and shoes laughing in our carefree youth! I did not have to worry about any bees in the desert as we were guarded and safe like prickly cactuses!!
When I moved to the states, I marveled at the neon lights of Times Square, the skyscrapers and the sea of yellow cabs in NYC. I was awed by the thundering Niagara falls, the cool spray cleansing my body and soul. I felt renewed, yet insignificant standing at the base of the falls, waiting to ride the Maid of the Mist!
In a few months, I married my life partner of now 26 years who I grew to love over the years. I was ever vigilant when I had children and never left them alone at parties and always kept an eye out for them. They complained that I didn’t let them walk home from school and didn’t trust them. It was not them. I didn’t trust the bees! Now that they are growing up, they have developed their own safety checks and know to avoid beehives!
At work, I learned to ask the questions. Are you safe at home and outside? I studied to become a Sexual Assault Forensic Examiner (SAFE) and a Sexual Assault Nurse Examiner (SANE). I attended the first-ever conference geared to pediatric patients and went for a documentation review three-day class with the prosecutor's office where we were taught proper techniques of documentation and how to be cross-examined on the stand as an expert witness. I stopped shy of three cases to complete my SANE certification due to family obligations. It's still on my wish list. I found it hard to be objective given my past experiences but was very aware that I had to be.
This year, I visited Kerala and the hilly terrains of my mother’s hometown. As I sipped my hot coffee, my mind awash with memories from the nearby house, I found myself strangely detached. The shame and anger were gone. I felt safe and secure in my husband’s love and the love of God who got me through each day! I was satisfied that I used my experiences to teach patients, my family and other children to be safe, speak up and go to a trusted adult. I let my five-year-old self hide behind the cupboard in the empty room, smiling as I watched her stifle her giggles and triumph of finding the perfect hiding space.
References
Sexual Assault Forensic Nurse Examiner Expert (SANE / SAFE)
Sexual Assault Forensic Examiner (SAFE) Program
Sexual Assault Nurse Examiners
