A Field of Hope
short story by Vishwam Gurudas Heckert
Photo by Priscilla Gyamfi on Unsplash
Welcome to Thrutopia is a collection of stories and poems created by a community of writers trying to answer the question, ‘how do we create a path toward a future we’d be proud to leave behind?’ This month’s selection comes from Vishwam Gurudas Heckert. Enjoy part one.
A Field of Hope
“School assemblies are the worst.” Her friend Jenny nodded, short ginger hair bobbing as if in its own agreement. The head teacher stood at the front of the room talking about being responsible. It seemed to Sian he just meant obedient. Very few people here looked happy. “Isnae that a clue?” she thought. It seems so obvious. “I wonder whit we cud dae?” Sian took out her pen and began to write. “Let’s strike. If it works fir Greta, mibbie it could work fir us. What dae ya reckon? Smiley face. Heart.”
She carefully slid the note over to Jenny who picked it up discreetly and spread it over her denim covered lap, glancing down.
“And remember,” droned the head teacher, “the future depends on you.”
Jenny read, smiled and nodded.
~ ~ ~
Sandra gazed out her bedroom window, the silvery moonlight pouring in and filling her eyes. Her room disappeared. The night around the moon was banished. Nothing else existed any more. Even time stopped.
The moonlight seemed to sing in her heart. Gentle, soothing, yet strong like seedlings pushing up through their blanket of dark earth. Something in her was waking up. She could no longer hold herself back. No longer be the nice girl she was expected to be. No longer try to fulfil her parents dreams.
She had no idea what was coming next. And she loved it.
~ ~ ~
Sian, in her bright green jumper and rich brown skirt moved through the tightly packed rows of students like Moses passing through the Red Sea. She wasn’t skulking out of assembly like a young woman embarrassed by her period or needing the toilet. She didn’t look sick. She was standing tall, alert, ready to take on the world with her quiet confidence.
Stirring whispers filled the room. Someone called out, “Hey Sian, where you goin’?”
“Ah’m goin’ on strike” she called back, her voice clear and calm, even though she was roiling inside. Sian and Jenny had only talked, not planned to act so soon! “Ah’m with Greta Thunberg. We cannae keep daein’ whit we’re daein’.” But then Jenny stood up from the back row and called out loudly, voice quavering, “Me, too!”
Sandra found herself standing as well. “Me, too!”
Others began to rise and follow. She was not on her own! “Oh God,” Sian thought, “whit am Ah daein’?” But she didn’t seem to have a choice. She just kept walking and more followed, even when teachers began calling for order. The student body simply flowed like a beautiful river around them – some stony faced, others bemused, and a rare few with eyes smiling.
~ ~ ~
Sian trudged along the edge of the burn, this path through the field worn by the feet of countless years of students making their way to school and home again to the council estate on the edge of town. The water looked listless today. It’s been dry so long, the water level low. Slow moving.
“I cannae believe we’re daein’ it,” she whispered. After walking out last week, she found herself co-organising the weekly school strike: Fridays for the Future!
“Wha’s happenin’ ta me?” she asked. “Ah was on fire that day. Ma purpose was so clear. Nae questions. Nae doubts. It wis jist time tae act.”
She looks down to cracked soil and the golden grasses. It’s late April, for goodness sake. Everything should be green, plump with rain.
Suddenly, it all felt too much and she found herself plopping down, slipping off her sandals, sliding her feet into the burn which just flowed over the tops of her toes. Connecting with Mother Earth.
Her own maw didn’t really get the strike. “Yir a bright lassie. Jist get intae uni. Make somethin’ ae yirsel’,” she’d said.
“But what future have we got wi’oot the Earth?” Sian asked.
“Leave it tae the wealthy bairns -- the ones whase caused all the problems,” her maw says. “The ones wha can afford to fix it. People like us, we jist haftae get by.”
“Maybe she’s right….” the words form in her mind but don’t quite come to life. “Maw’s just depressed and I’m worried it’s contagious.”
She wasn’t Christian or anything really, but she found herself praying. “Mither Earth, please help me hae the strength to dae this work fer you. Please help me tae help you and help all ae us.”
At these words, she felt a stream flowing in her heart – much stronger than the one at her feet. And it seemed to whisper to her, “thank youuuu”. Was she talking with the Earth? That seemed crazy!
So she tried again, like a good scientist. “Mither Earth, are ye tryin’ tae teach us how tae live in harmony wi’ ye?” And again she felt that incredible feeling in her heart. It was warm and bright, full of life. She could hardly believe it!
And yet, she remembered reading about Indigenous Peoples – Oglala Lakota, the Sami, and some Australian First Nations – for a report she wrote for geography. One of the best teachers in the school, Ms Parkstone, had encouraged her. They all spoke of listening to the Earth.
“But they are native people! Ah’m just a lassie from the scheme,” Sian thought to herself.
But somehow, she knew it was real.
“Will ye teach me, Mither?” she whispered to the shallow burn and the golden grass, the cracked brown soil and the pale blue sky. And the Earth seemed to answer, “Stay in your heart. Listen.”
~ ~ ~
Darren sat in the field with his closest pals. Dressed in black joggers and hoodies of various colours, the four boys didn’t quite fit in anywhere else. They were perhaps more sensitive than most. Creative, but not necessarily star students. They enjoyed moving and playing, but weren’t the best athletes. They knew there was more to life, but weren’t driven by the usual idea of success.
But something seemed to draw them together. Darren and Asim and been neighbours for five years. Probably that was part of it, though he hadn’t got on well with the lassie who lived there before. She was really popular and a bit mean, though he also knew her home life wasn’t easy. He’d heard the shouting from next door. Asim’s family were quiet, friendly and easy going.
Simon was the tallest of the group. Lanky and a bit awkward, but so unselfconscious about it that no one bothered him. He had become friends with Darren and Asim when they got all detention for skipping class one day last year to sit here by the burn. Something about the flowing water captivated them.
Bruce had wanted to stay, but had been too afraid. He’s been on anti-depressants for anxiety for the last three years and was terrified of getting in trouble. Terrified of being seen as different. Only Simon knew he was bi. Being such a great friend, he kindly kept it secret from other other boys. Simon said they’d understand, and maybe he’s right. But Bruce was too afraid.
“Ya ken, Ah’m thinkin aboot strikin’ aen Fridays,” Darren said out loud after a long pause in the conversation. “That lassie Sian seems to ken whit she’s oon aboot.” Bruce put his head in his hands and started shaking. Simon immediately reached out and put his hand on his pal’s back and didn’t say a word. He didn’t have to. Bruce’s shaking stopped and his head raised up, all eyes on him. “I’m in,” he whispered, shocked at himself but seeing no other way forward. He’s been reading the papers. He knows what’s happening in the world and what’s going to happen if we keep going on the way we have been. Asim and Eric simply nod. It’s agreed.
~ ~ ~
Sian found herself sitting alone by the burn, crying quietly into her hands. “Whit we’re daein isnae enough,” she thought to herself. “The world is ain fire and we’re jist skiving.”
“Alreet?” calls a familiar voice.
Looking up she sees Darren from school. They’d chatted a few times, but didn’t know each other well. Sian quickly wiped the tears from her eyes and tried to smile. Seeing the compassion in his eyes, she found herself tearing up again.
Sitting beside her, he asks quietly “Ye feart, tae?”
“Ah am,” she says. “Ah really am.”
“Did ya ken they’re wantin’ tae build hooses here? Tae cover ower the burn.”
“No!” Sian shouted, startling them both.
“Aye, ma faither wis talkin’ aboot it at tea last night.” Darren spoke in a quiet, heavy voice. “Sayin’ he could dae wi’ the work. I didnae say nothin’, but Ah ken he cud tell Ah wis no happy. He didnae say nothin’ mair. Just started in on the bevvy.”
“Sometimes it seems like the whole world is fallin’ apart.” Sian cried out “But whit can we dae?”.
“Ma maw sometimes talks aboot her days at Bilston Glen and ma gran was at Greenham Common doon in England. Mibbie we could dae somethin’ like that here. Ah mean, Greenham was fir women only. Mibbie we cud mak a protest camp that’s jist fir us.”
Both their hearts leapt and they looked at each other, stunned by the enormity of this vision that held them both.
PART TWO COMING NEXT WEEK