"That's not my real name", she sobbed, her voice muffled by her hands and fragile balls of soggy tissue paper.
Raymar knew all about names. His was cobbled together from remnants of his parents'. Raymond and Mareldia. Neither one nor the other, his was not a whole name, it would never be. But yet it told the tale of his childhood. He had never felt like he belonged, Raymar with his patchwork name, living in a country filled with people struggling for their identity. He was a chimera, a mosaic, a jigsaw puzzle with pieces from different boxes.
There were perks of course. He received presents for Christmas and new clothes for Eid. His mother made great koeksisters and tomato bredie, and he had only half the guilt his Catholic father had.
"There are things about me you don't know", she whimpered into Raymar's shirt as he held her close to comfort her.
Raymar could not tell her about his dreams, the ones which, every night, usurped his sleep. He could not tell her about his art, his work, and the satisfaction he got from doing it well. He could not tell her about his bloody past, his bloody past.
"But you don't understand", she continued, while Raymar tried to show her that he did understand and that it didn't matter, that she was safe, and that this was a new beginning.
Muniko. The name had infected him, wormed its way into his brain and swelled, taking up space which should have been used for common sense. A rose by any other name would smell as sweet, but Raymar had been snagged by a thorn.
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Raymar Driver by Parasputin and Saaleha Bamjee-Mayet is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 2.5 South Africa License.
Based on a work at raymardriver.blogspot.com.
6 comments:
although i'll have to look up 'koeksisters' and 'tomato bredie' for my own knowledge, i have enjoyed this entry so much, i read it three times.
sometime you'll have to explain the method of collaboration - sounds complicated and profound.
Saaleha Bamjee-Mayet and Parasputin:
is there something i can do to inspire my two favorite collaborators, from two continents, to toss a blank page on the table and record the thoughts that come to mind about Raymar Driver and the cast of characters all wearing new clothes from Eid? (i'm wondering if Eid is a store like LL Beans in Freeport, Maine)
David in Maine USA
https://fivereflections.wordpress.com
trying to add a comment to Blogger is %$#@&!@ :)
i misread Eid as being a store - sorry, i did not mean to compare Eid with a store.
regard
David in Maine USA
http://fivereflections.wordpress.com
David
inspire? I think you just have. There will be more soon.
We had a bit of a break during the month of Ramadan, during which Muslims fast from sunrise to sunset. This culminates in the festival of Eid.
I'm certainly not offended, and it served as a bit of a reminder that as the readership has become more international, certain terms may need to be qualified with a glossary. At least three terms added to your vocabulary so far!
Thanks for coming back David.
troubled, twisted, and tormented
I often return here to learn more about Raymar, to be amazed and suspended in wonderment, in pursuit of seeking the motivation of your exceptionally precious characters and comprehend their destinies to the best of my abilities, not familiar to the ideas, customs, and social behavior of the citizens that live in Raymar's world.
Unique skills live here, at Raymar Driver's blog space, with a potential to drive psychologically deeper characters with emotionally complex personalities, oh so troubled, twisted, and tormented...
Until free moments of unbusy time are found and spent on collaboration by the collaborators, I can only guess the future, past, and present of Raymar Driver and his cast of characters... i'm just extremely anxious for these post to blossom - let me express my enthusiasm by guessing Raymar's great ancestors... i always tend to explain more than there is to explain...
*******
ignotum per ignotius
‘the unknown through the more unknown’
*******
Perhaps Raymar Driver remembers subtle dreams when twelve ancient visionaries stop by during twelve various dark nights, twelve very mystical dark nights of the year, when each of those nights a bright star aligned between the points of a crescent moon through out the year. He remembered a voice, a faint murmur, whispering subtle vibrations of the universe into his sleeping ears, but Raymar Driver, being the captain of his destiny, vaguely remembers the ancient rhythms and tries to forget them, but they often interrupt him at the strangest moments of his life.
Why would these rhythms stir within his mind and briefly fill him with great physical strength, while a powerful energy surged through his body giving him a brief moment of peace and emptied his mind of noisy thoughts. He couldn't believe the beautiful thoughts that came bubbling to the surface of his mind. Once he imagined hearing the subtle voice of his great-great-great grandmother, a person he has never heard anyone speak of, called out his name. What could possible make him think of his great-great-great grandmother anyway.
Raymar became puzzled. He tried to recall this ancestral voice, but his mind would only fill with noisy noise. He wondered about who his great-great-great grandmother, his great-great grandmother, his great-grandmother, and even his grandmother and didn't have a clue about his faceless ancesters, who they might have been or where they came from, but these thoughts tired him out quickly. Raymar began to feel cold and lonely.
One night he looked through the dirty windshield of the taxi, up into the night sky and saw a bright star aligned between the points of a crescent moon, but the star in his dreams twinkled, always with five points, the star in the night sky above him was round like a ball of light. Raymar tried to pencil sketch the crescent moon and star, wondering if the star had five reflecting points or was it round like a ball of light in the faint memory of his dream.
New hope bubbled up in Raymar's mind - he would try to pay attention to his dreams from now on.
5R
I have to admit I am humbled by your enthusiasm for the characters and their story. I cannot but allow them to speak through me once more.
I'm sure SBM will agree.
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