Why Me?

'Ouch!' 

Another thorn pricked me. If my family weren't so poor, I wouldn't be working here. Anyway, just a few more to go.

I am Sandra. I study in a college in Somalia. Let me tell you my story.

I was born in Kenya in a decent family. Soon, we had to evict our house since we were stuck up on some dues, and couldn't pay them. We also had to move over to our ancestral house here in Somalia.

It is a sleepy country, with not much of a choice. To keep up with financial matters, I was given some work in a rose garden that belonged to the landlord of Nitu aunty's house. The neighbour next door said that she would pay me more than him to mow her humongous lawn, but I was fine.

Every year, on Valentine's day, many people come to buy these flowers from us. Perhaps, it is only one of those few days where we have a good sale. Other than that, I have only seen people buy them for their loved ones on their birthday or for a farewell, or a funeral. 

Coming straight to the point, today I have to deliver a bucketful of roses to Ahmed (the landlord), who exports these flowers to other cities. Some of them are even sent to a flower competition.

 

I am finally done. Now, I just have to deliver them. The roads over here are not as good as I expected. Ahmed’s house is about a mile from here. On reaching, I handed him my bucket of flowers, even congratulating him on getting a promotion by the Flower Association. That meant that was twice as rich {and aggressive}.

I expected a warm greet but pelting of roses on my face confirmed my doubt...

'This is rubbish! I told you to get me a bucketful of roses that are of a good quality. Not some cheap and ordinary flowers! Don't you realise I am the Manager now?'

By this time, I realised that the people on the road were staring at me.

'I'm sorry sir, but-

'I do NOT want any sorrys from you. Did you even take a look at the other people's flowers? Look at yours and look at theirs...you know what, since you have always been trying to put down my company....you have NO place in my garden anymore!'

I cried and cried. I had lost my only job. It may seem silly, but here in Somalia, according to our tribe, if you are capable of working, and you lost your job, you were considered as an outcast. I did not have any guts to face my family. If they knew my condition, they would surely throw me out...

Figuring that those stupid neighbours might have already told them, I decided to run away.

I did not know what to do. That same evening, I went to the riverbank, in high hopes that the water could wash me away.....forever. I even took my bucket of flowers (even my crushed soul). I sat.

'Why me? Why ME? 

Did I spend my time in the scorching heat just to get rejected?

Did I bruise and prick my hands just to get those innocent flowers thrown at me?

Did I decide to work underage just to get publicly disgraced?

With these simultaneous thoughts racing across my mind, I got up, and walked toward the violent currents of the merciless river. Mind you, it was a high tide that day.

Clutching the small bucket across my chest, I made my move...

'SANDRA, NO!'

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.

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'What was that? Am I dreaming? This cannot be true.....Jason?!

I found myself under a tree. A neem tree to be precise. I had no idea that I would meet my high school bestie, from whom I was separated a few years ago. When I looked around, I was in damp clothes and half a bucket of wet roses. I figured what had happened. 

After a few lectures from my old friend, I mustered up the courage to go home. Jason told me that he lives a lane away from mine. His family came here as tourists, and settled here. Jason is actually from Ohio. It is coincidental that we live close to each other.

On my way home, I received ugly stares from people (looking at my semi-wet outfit). I am way beyond happy that he did not tell anyone of my trial of an eternal escapade. Mum answered the door, but did not say anything. She saw Jason and immediately recognised him as the one who had helped her get into the hospital, when she met with an accident two years ago.

Nobody spoke much. Instead at the dinner table, my parents encouraged me to not give up. 

Failure is always a stepping stone to success - is a quote that I heard for the first time from my dad.

One thing I love about my parents is that they never try to blend with the crowd. They will always support the right thing, no matter how crucial the matter is.

Finally, Jee (my granddad) asked me why was I out of my job. I did my best on telling him that it was him who threw me out and not me who said bad on his face. I wonder where he got this strange news from. It sure must have been those nosy neighbours who pry their way into everyone's personal business. They were the ones who saw me be expelled from my tiny group of 5 'rose-pickers' (as they call us)

Day after day, rumors constantly spread that I badmouthed that "nice" landlord. If only they knew what was actually going on. My friend circle minimized drastically until it was only Jason and I. He never gave up on our friendship. I often cried about this to him and he always said - 'Good things always happen to those who wait'. That was when I felt like an invisible bee, drawing closer to my flower 

 

Many years passed, and I finally finished my graduation. It was only Jason and my parents who came for the occasion. Jee had passed away 3 months ago. I wish he was there to see me. 

Next week was Ahmed's daughter's wedding. Things were going great. Our family was (unfortunately) invited too. 

The day arrived. The wedding went very smoothly until there was a twist in the plot. The bride was supposed to receive the best quality flowers to present to the audience. Since her father was a flower merchant, the people expected hers to be the most vibrant bouquet. 

But, as soon as her flowers arrived, half of them were dull and half were very pale. On seeing this, the merchant summoned the 'rose-pickers' and yelled at them for making such a mess. He even slapped a boy. It turns out that one child confessed that whenever they pick flowers, they turn out to be dull. So they always dipped them in a thin gloss, which gave its additional shine.

Ahmed then screamt (as usual) at those vulnerable children, almost forgetting that he had a collar mike. 

Surprisingly, the sound guy switched it on (maybe because he knew what kind of a person Ahmed was)

Let me tell you, Ahmed always bragged about his post. Whenever someone asked about his profession, his first response would be, 'You're talking to the manager of the world class Flower Association'

 

With a collar mic on, he yelled even louder.

So loudly, that the entire reception fell silent.

After that, what happened was a crazy incident. The mother (of the boy who got slapped) created a whole episode-cum-drama and threatened to call the police. Food fights were all over the place. Half the crowd decided to go home. The reception came to a standstill. We too decided to turn home.

The next day, around 3 neighbours came to our house to apologize for the rumors that they spread. They even bought a couple of roses, which I recognize, was freshly handpicked.

Jason proposed a week later. I was happy to see my broken family come back again. My mum and dad were divorced. That was the reason why she always remained silent. Now, both of them were attending reconciliation sessions together.

I am Happy

Jason is Happy

We all are Happy