Gilded Truth

Chapter Eight

The mess hall is as lively as it was, the sweet and mellow aroma of steamed potatoes and bread mixed with the earthy fragrance of the damp soil. Children play around while their parents gather food for their families. Our colleagues are chatting and laughing at a distance, I watch them with a small smile on my face. Even in the darkest times, it's the simple joy that matters. We are all victims yet we don't see ourselves as one, but a family cultivated with hope and the hope of revolution. I draw on the surface of the table with my finger, my nails gathering the dirt that was accumulated on the surface. Ivo sat beside me sliding a plate of fresh mashed potatoes and garlic bread. "Apo said to give it to you. He said you have to eat more, and I agree." I stare at the serving in front of me, it looks appetizing despite its simplicity. My gaze whisked to the elderly man who serves us every meal we have in the mess hall. He smiled towards my direction flashing his last remaining teeth, I bowed to him as a sign of thanks and he did the same.

I was about to dig into my serving when Rohan stood in front of me on his right hand was a plate of the same serving like everyone else has, his left hand still in a sling, but as if he was built out of steel he was recovering quicker than we expected. At this rate he could even run around the place for a few laps. I watched him as he sat in front of me without saying anything. His hair tied in a man bun with tendrils of small hair sticking out of his face. Undeniably, he looks better with his hair out of the way of his face, he looks even neater and smarter. I felt a slight nudge beside me, my eyes whisked to the man beside me but he was too busy eating his fill. He cleared his throat when I looked at him and gestured for me to start eating my fill. I picked up a piece of my garlic bread and started to piece it, eating it along with my mashed potatoes. It was a simple supper but what can we do? It was the only thing that could grow in these desolate lands, we could only rely on making food for ourselves. We have more mouths to feed than the funds we have. If not for Ivo's persuasion I would have given my stash to them, it could last us a month at most. I think so.

We ate there with the sound of wood spoons clattering on our clay plates. I watch them in silence as everyone enjoys themselves. Intrusive thoughts flooding at the back of my mind. I shrug the thoughts off my mind, I should not think of those. I should not be stuck in the idea that we will never be out of this desolate place, living on potatoes and garlic, and some old wheat for bread. We will rise from this place, reclaim our place in society. We cannot be a renegade forever, we cannot be an outcast for this oppressive system for the rest of our lives. We are still citizens of this country, we still have our inherent rights, we are born with the idea that this system is trying to strip us off. But the journey to our goal will be tedious, we are only on our first few steps.

A light tug caught my attention and when I looked beside me Marayah was standing beside me, her eyes glistening with joy and hope. They are the reason why we fight, we want the next generation to never feel the same hardship we felt. We fight for them because they can't while we have the capability to do so. We cannot leave their hopes hanging in thin air while we are doing nothing when we can do something. "Effe, you said that you would tell us a story. Everyone is in the mess hall, might as well tell us something tonight..." I picked her up and let her sit beside me, I combed her hair with my hands. I looked around the place and everyone fell into deep silence. As if anticipating what story I am about to tell this time, even Rohan who is sitting in front of me sat up straight, his elbows resting on the table and his body leaning a bit. I certainly promised that I would tell Marayah a story but I didn't expect her to request a story inside the mess hall. Usually she wanted these stories to be told when we are in our secluded room we call a classroom. Where a makeshift chalkboard was erected and blankets served as the seats of these children.

"Sure, what story do you want to hear?" I asked her. I have told her a couple stories that I made up, stories that are also about the system gilded in white lies. Their young and innocent minds are too pure for stories that tell the bitter truth. Marayah tapped her little pointy finger on her chin, as if thinking of what story she wanted to hear. I waited patiently, crafting hundreds of stories at the back of my mind. While waiting for her I noticed how Rohan's eyes were fixed on me. "You're good with children," he commented. He ate a spoonful of mashed potatoes after his comment. I smiled, faintly. "I used to live with a lot of children in a concentration camp." His spoon halted halfway, his mouth left ajar. He looks at me in disbelief as if hearing that I used to live in a concentration camp was out of ordinary. He placed his spoon back to his fill, I noticed how his hand turned into a fist, his jaws clenching. "I'm sorry..." I shook my head and look at my hand resting on the table.

"That's all in the past." Yes, it was all in the past but the scar remains. The scar that I hide from everyone else. Marayah tugged on my hair lightly, gesturing me to come closer to her. I lend her my ear. "I want to know more about you, Effe. Tell me your story." My eyes widened at her request, never in my wildest dreams that I would have thought Marayah would ask me to tell my story to her. Usually she asks what's beyond the horizon, what does the ocean look like or even what does it look like to be at the top of the capital. She always asks about the world but never about me, the only person who knows of my history is Ivo. I looked at him and his eyes are also asking me, he knows that the scar of yesterday is still there. It's like a ghost haunting me everywhere I go.

"Please, Effe..." Marayah flashed her doll-like eyes, batting her eyelashes. I know of her schemes, if we were just inside the classroom I would evade this topic but in front of the mess hall with people's eyes watching me. Probably the same request from her was also running through their minds. I gave them an ever vague reason why I fight but never about the story behind it. I bit the top of my lip, trying to think if I am ready to tell this story. Till I felt Ivo's hand on my knee, patting me and comforting me. When I met his eyes it was as if he was telling me that I can do it, that everyone in this hall will always respect me. As if telling me that everyone will always be behind me at every moment in this fight. I lift my cup and let the water seep in my dry throat. I looked at Ivo and he gave me a slight nod, my eyes went to Rohan who was also looking at me expectantly. He propped his uninjured elbow and rested his head on the palm of his right hand.

"I will only tell this story once, Marayah. No more second chances, alright?" Marayah nodded enthusiastically. People around the mess hall also pulled their benches close to our table, all of their attention on me. Waiting for what story I am about to unfold. I took a deep breath and let the blood rush in my system.

"The story I am about to tell is about a girl who had it all... She has everything everyone envies. She swam in golds, watched the glistening light of the capital on their fortress, met with dignitaries, studied in the most prestigious schools. She had beauty and wits that girls at her age envied her so much, and she took pride in that. But just like how she has everything she eventually lost everything including herself." I gulped, it was as if a growing lump was blocking my airway. Making it harder to breathe and think of what I am about to say next. Every memory flashes back like a broken reel, it was so vivid that I could even hear the voice of my father and mother in my ears. I tried to keep everything in, but as the memory came back it was as if the scar on my back became a fresh wound, as if this story is opening every scar I have. But I guess I also have to face it, I cannot hide from the past forever, and to move forward is to look back at it.

"This is my story and how I used to have everything the next moment I have nothing..."