Thursday, February 19, 2009

A written discourse: Carmen & Tienne.(excerpt)

In a glance: The narrator is 15 years old, when her father (a diplomat) sends her to visit Congo-Kinshasa, with his friend's children; Tienne, 16 and Carmen ,19. While visiting a relative in a small town, a rebel group attacks and proceeds to slaughter its residents. Unfortunately, there has been a lot of massacres in Congo, & although I am not very familiar with my country's politics, I wanted to write something about this. Here's an excerpt.
The nightmares begun and ended similarly, every time I closed my eyes.
I saw Tienne's linear nose and his skinny waist. The tightly pursed lips that told me what they wanted from me: My body, now, now.
His soft hands that tugged on my jeans, behind the Mango tree. I remembered his protruding collarbone that seemed to me, at the time,too sharp to be kissed.
The blinding heat, I couldn't get used to, was such a contrast to London's rainy summers. But my father insisted I visit Congo-Kinshasa, and he sent me off with his friend's children; Tienne, the boy I fell in love with, and his sister, the girl who would become my best friend, Carmen.
Oh, Father, did you know you were sending me to the pits of hell?
The nightmares, keep me up at night.
I see the heavy machetes, slicing his delicate skin and intruding into the flesh, the blade getting stuck between his bones. His lips, which I kissed and left buried between my thighs, deformed into a loathsome cry...
Tienne's hands, those warm hands, lying inches away from his carcass. They wouldn't even take the time to push his body off the road. He would lay in the African soil, ants eating his skin.
I see Carmen: Her beautiful dark frame; with thick thighs and heavy lurid breasts, with nipples that troubled and amazed. Her round ass that all women secretly envied and the wide smile that warmed hearts. I saw the rebel soldiers pile upon her.
The first one came and threw her on the floor, while holding a knife to her throat. He did it right then and there, on a dusty road where dozens or maybe hundreds of mortals took their last breath. He screamed, they all screamed: Putain! Cafard!
He throbbed deeper inside her.
Carmen didn't scream or plead. She wanted to die with dignity, so if anyone survived, they can tell her parents she never begged, nor showed weakness.
When we had taken the plane together, she told me, her dream was to be light enough to live amongst the clouds. Tienne had laughed, had went as far as to tell her, they were vapor.
In death, all is possible. Carmen knew that she would not, did not want to survive this.
The second soldier, a mere child, about Tienne and I's age, entered her by the back. He screamed when he saw the blood. He cursed and wanted to slash her throat, but the third man said it was his turn to ' baiser la putain'.
He changed his mind, when he saw the blood, fearful of getting ' the disease'.
There were so many of them. I couldn't keep count. I couldn't scream, I laid; my body close the ground amongst the bushes and groves, praying that no one finds me.
I watched as Carmen was destroyed, I couldn't save her.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

OMG! This excerpt gave me chills!! It certainly reads like a true story, which is all the more disturbing. It's so insane to think that while we live such carefree lives right here on this continent, people from other countries, people just like us and children are dying in such horrific ways.
Your writing is impeccable. When will you publish all these amazing stories of yours?