Had I A Choice?

Had I A Choice?

                  The wind was gentle but chilly. I shut my eyes, tilted my head up and the soft cool breeze kissed my face and danced with the few strands of hair that escaped my ponytail. My face was sun kissed – much like the other women here. Today we were lucky for even the slightest gust of air. It’s the small things in life we’ve come to appreciate after losing everything we once had. My dried up lips curved up into a smile and then I returned to what I was doing – peeling potatoes. I looked at my hands, which were once soft and smooth as a baby’s bottom, now as rough and tough as a cactus in the desert. As I scraped the dirt off the starchy vegetables placed in my hand, my mind wandered back to the days when the good was great before we fell into the hands of fate.

                  “Jillian! Your lunch is ready!” I bellowed for my beautiful daughter from the bottom of the stairs. 

Slowly, I returned to the dining room and giggled to myself. Why you might ask? Well, she has yet to realize that I, her mother know she has gotten herself into her first real relationship with a boy. “Ah young love, sweet and innocent,” the thought circled in my head as I set up the dining table. Not long after, Jillian came down from her room and sat herself across from me. We had small chit-chat as we enjoyed servings of warm mashed potatoes and gravy with a side of roasted spring vegetables. “Mmm, what is that? It smells delicious!” exclaimed Sarah as she entered the house. Beaming with joy and clearly hungry after work, Sarah waltzed into the dining room and planted a small kiss on my forehead. I smiled, looked into her eyes and said, “Welcome home, honey.” As per usual, my daughter began “choking” and “coughing” at her food prior to seeing the public displays of affection by her mothers. Then all three of us would chuckle at each another like schoolgirls during recess.

                  “WHAT ARE YOU SMILING AT? GET BACK TO WORK YOU FILTHY HOMOSEXUAL!”

                  Snapping out, I scowled at the officer in disgust and spit on the floor to show my distaste. Sarah looked at me from across the field and eyed me not to make any rash decisions. Pissed off but aware that I’ve put myself in a spot, I took in a long deep breath and apologized to the officer.

“Yes sir! I am a dirty lesbian and have no right to smile.”

With a few long strides, he marched up to me and landed one tight slap across my face. An intense burning sensation engulfed my cheek. Violently, the officer cupped my jaw, brought his face close to mine and said “Trying to be funny? You’ll see the end of it bitch. Just you wait”. 

Then, he turned around and walked away. I regained my composure. Ironically, the pain that stabbed me internally in my chest overwhelmed the fiery pain I felt on my face because I knew no matter how much of a monster that man was – he was free. Maybe some day my family and I would finally be free.

       6 months. 6 months since have we been hauled, thrown and locked up in this dreaded concentration camp. The Government and The Almighty Heavenly Institute had come to agreement that all homosexuals and their families are part of a poisonous species and belong in hell where we should burn until we gained some degree of sanity. Well, I still remember the day as clear as water when our almost perfect world came crashing down upon us. Sarah, Jillian and I hid in the small crawlspace under the floorboards of our house. We had heard loud banging noises and stomps of heavy leather boots travelling above us. Our hearts were pounding fast and tears streamed down our faces. Watching my wife and daughter cry, being helpless and worried was like a wrench to your soul. Then, all the sounds halted. We could only hear the rhythm of our own breath. Inhaling. Exhaling. Maybe we were one of the lucky ones.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

                  Gunshots were fired from above mere centimetres from my family and I. The floorboards were torn open my large crowbars and we could see policemen from above looking down at us. It is ironic really, the men we paid with our hard earned money and taxes, and depended on to keep us safe were the exact people who hovered above us to tear us away from safety. “Got them,” smirked the lad in a buttoned up grey-coloured uniform garnished with medals and pins of silver and gold.

                  “RIIIIIIIIING!” went the bell. We moved to the cafeteria for dinner. A spoonful of stale rice and soup that smelt like urine were provided to every homosexual family. Jillian, Sarah and I sat in a small circle on the floor – each of us chewing on our food, not speaking a word and staring at a spot on the floor with lifeless eyes, stoned. I looked at my spouse; her face was as grey as death and her hair, which used to be as luscious as woven silk was now no more. Left with nothing but skin and bones, the only thing I saw in my family and myself now, were walking and breathing corpses.

An officer in black came in. Boots heavy on the floor, the sounds drumming against my eardrum.

Pointing at families scattered round the canteen, the officer counted, “One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine and…”

His eyes travelled the room and for a second, we made eye contact.

“Ten.”

                  Obediently like dogs on a chain, the ten families grouped together and walked towards a hallway. At the end of it, were two doors. The mothers and the children were separated. Mothers went into the door on the left, and children went into the door on the right. As I entered the cold dark room, my hand was locked with Sara’s. We stood in a line facing a black tinted glass of some sort. Confused, the women in the room looked around. Were we supposed to do something here? Where are they taking our children?

                  A few minutes later, a dim light turned on behind the glass and the black tinted glass was now fully transparent. What we saw on the other side knotted our stomachs and shattered our feeble hearts. Our very own children were standing stark naked in a place that looked very much like a bathroom. Their clothes were placed on the hooks and we could see an officer telling them some sort of instruction or news. Upon hearing the news, some children smiled slightly, others remained expressionless and dazed. The mothers in the room were left puzzled. After that, the officer exited the room and a siren began to sound. The children looked up at the showerheads above them in awe when water poured down upon them for the first time in 6 months. They were overjoyed. Some were already reaching out to the bars of soap to clean themselves. Sarah and I looked at each other not knowing what to think.

                  Then, the water stopped. The children were now lost and confused. What was going on? A few seconds later, white fumes escaped from the shower heads. Terror formed on the children’s faces as mass hysteria unfolded. They began coughing, huddling up in corners, crying and hugging. Some children fell to their knees unable to catch their breath. No, this was no shower. It was a gas chamber. All the women in the room went absolutely berserks.  They wailed and cried and scratched their nails and thumped their fists on the glass watching helplessly as their children, a merely a few feet away from them, fell to the wet floor – fell to their untimely death.

                  I stood there as my wife collapsed next to me in sorrow. My eyes began to fill with salty tears that soon trickled down my face. That was it. I had lost it. I had lost my world. Emptiness engulfed my soul as I experienced my daughter and at least 15 innocent children perish right in front of my eyes. The lights in the gas chamber turned off and the lights in our room turned on. As if stabbing our eyes, the fluorescent lights above us showed us that we stood in a huge room. About 30 to 50 male officers were in the room and we were all instructed to stand up. The men pulled us wives away from each other, forcefully separating our weakly linked bodies.

                  Among 9 other women, I stood staring at my spouse being dragged to the other end of the room by a group of men. Our hands were cuffed to the bar behind us like helpless animals. As if seeing my daughter die was not enough, I watched as men in uniform viciously and without a conscience, rape my wife. The room was now filled with screams of torment, torture and tears. Had these men no heart? Had these men no soul? I wailed for them to stop but the only thing that returned was more and more screams of lesbian women being stolen of their lives.

                  After the men had finished with the women, they put on the rest of their clothes and left the room. Smiling. Disgusting pigs. I hoped they burn in hell. All but 10 of them left. The 10 that remained moved to the side of the room and armed themselves each with an AK-47. One officer and one gun allocated for each of us women standing handcuffed to the bar. I faced my prosecutor with bloodshot eyes and a face filled with disgust. Across me stood the man that had slapped me this morning in the field. “Hello little lesbian, we meet again,” worded his filthy and disgusting mouth. “Did you like what I did to your wife over there? That’s what women are for – to please men. That’s why you’re an abomination. But don’t worry, I’m a kind man. I’ll make this fast and painless,” the officer said with an evil smirk across his face.

                  *Chak chak* sounded the gun.

                  Finger on the trigger, he aimed the gun at my face.

If I could change everything, had I a choice?

I couldn’t love men even if I tried.

I could only love what was forbidden to most.

I could only love the same sex.

Had I a choice to be born this way?

Had I a choice to be born into death?

Had I a choice?

No, I had none.

I had no choice.