HORSE F COURSE

“Dear Diary…”

GENEVA NATIONAL MUSEUM (ARTEFACT) 2011
PROPERTY OF THE WORLD’S LARGEST ARTEFACT.GENEVA.DO NOT TAKE.

“Hmmmm, but I can read” I said to myself.  Really, I don’t mind spending the whole day here, I thought to myself. Back in Nigeria, I had seen so much about Elena Jones’ story, her ending life and her huge impact all over the internet. I have seen reprinted versions of her diary but I knew I needed to fly down here to Geneva sometime now to behold the real thing, to see her real writing and feel the real diary. Of course it’s old but maintained…I have flown all the way here for this Diary Elena Jones had made a legend. I picked up my glasses and wore them, excitement ran through my veins as I opened the diary exhibited on the large podium…my life is about to be changed forever.

Dear Diary (JAN.30.1943)
Ma’ sent me to get some wood from the woods. I was wearing the long chiffon gown she had sewn for me on my eighteenth birthday and forgot that I could trip as I carried the pieces of wood on both hands. One foot stepped on the chiffon and whoops I fell to the ground with all my woods scattered on the floor. I looked down on myself as I sat up…I was bleeding on my knee and big bruises on my hand. “Mi lady” a masculine voice said. I quickly looked up at him and dear diary; he gave me the most amazing smile and stretched out his hands to help me. I smiled; I could tell my cheeks were blood red. My God, dear diary…he is the most handsome man I had ever seen here in this little town. I gently clasped my hands into his and he brought me up gently. Was I insane? My heart beat so loud I was so afraid he could tell. Without saying words to each other, we picked up the woods together and he gently laid them in my arms. “Allow me” he said and bent on one knee. He brought a knife from his boot and gently tore my gown to knee level. “You can trip again” he said to me as he got up. I couldn’t say a word. I was just a smiling mute. “I live after the woods. My mama needs me now. I would have walked you…” he said
“It’s ok” I finally said.
“Alas. You speak.”, he smiled at me, “Your name?”
“Elena” I smiled back, “Elena Jones”
“I spend my evenings here in the woods each night. We can meet here by seven tomorrow?”
My heart raced excitedly and I nodded in its rhythm. He then smiled and turned around to leave. Of course I did turn around too and oh, his name is Joe. Joe Rennings. Have I met my prince? I feel like he is.

Dear Diary (JAN.31.1943)
Joe and I spent the evening lying on the wood grass and gazing at the stars. It was such a moment of laughter and peace. I felt like a young child once again. He reminded me much of pa’. Joe looks at me each time with such glow in his eyes. He told me his dreams of becoming the richest cattle rearer in Reavery town though his parents are poor. I told him that though our parents our poor we can still follow our dreams. Joe Rennings is a fine strong man. I know he can take care of me like pa’ took care of ma’ before he passed on. Dear diary, can you love in one night? Joe has made me happy and taught me many in one night…I know the names of stars, trees and cities, he says he reads a lot. I surely want more of this. Do you think he might have some affection for me?

Dear Diary (OCT.3.1943)
I am so glad I found you again. Its been six months. Ma’ had not known you are my secret friend and threw you in the trash can. How funny! You have indeed missed a lot on me. Joe and I are together every night since that evening, always in the woods. We truly love each other and Ma’ says he is a good man just like pa’. She says she is happy to have him as her son. My birthday is ‘morrow and I have the feeling he has a surprise for me. I have to go now. I am happy I found you again but Joe awaits me in the woods by now.

Dear Diary (OCT.4.1943)
My eyes are soaked with friendly tears that I do not know how I can write to you now. What have I done to deserve a man as fine at heart as Joe Rennings? He is the best man in Reveary town and a blessing to I and Ma’. In the woods today, he told me he couldn’t save up for a gift for me but that he had made me a surprise. He gently blindfolded my eyes with a scarf as I laughed, excited. He took me by the hands and we ran across the woods to a place I did not know and we stopped. “Open your eyes to the sands” he whispered softly in my ears. I opened my eyes and could not blink. I was shocked and the tears came very fast down my red cheeks. He had drawn on the sand with a stick, “Will you marry me Elena Jones?”. I gasped for air, surprised at this surprise. “I knew it the moment I saw you that I would spend my remaining days with you” I said to him, holding his firm face, crying and laughing at the same time. It was a beautiful moment. He gently brushed off my hair from my eyes and embraced me so warmly. I cannot count the hours we stood there in each other’s arms. This is the perfect gift on this day my twenty fifth birthday and though we both do not have much but I sure know I will be safe with him. Joe is a strong, hardworking man that would fend for our family. Ma’ is excited. She says Pa’ would be proud of me.

Dear Diary (NOV.25.1943)
It has certainly been a while. Joe and I are happily married since the tenth of last month. We have built a wooden cottage together by the woods. Ma’ is sick and it is saddening not being with her most times as my husband’s attention calls. I haven’t the chance for writing much these days but I will as I get the chance for you are still my secret friend. Joe now works in a nearby factory and we are expecting our first baby. I am about a month pregnant. We believe it’s a she.

Dear Diary (NOV.29.1943)
Ma’ is dead and I cannot be comforted.

Dear Diary (AUG.2.1944)
I have certainly abandoned you. Life has given me no spare time most times. I am happy Keyla is born in the New Year. Joe says keyla is a replica of me. He is so fond of our new girl but he is also concerned about my happiness as I still see Ma’ in my sleep. Keyla is two months today. So much to say, so little time.

Dear Diary (NOV.10.1944)
Joe is on night shift at the factory today and keyla is asleep. I and Joe have been having frequent quarrels about his new set of friends. They make him come home late most times after much time at the local bar. Joe is fast forgetting that I and Keyla need him home. I wish Ma’ is here.

Dear Diary (DEC.24.1944)
Things are harder. We have no money and Keyla is always hungry. Joe hardly talks to me now. Instead he goes out with those bad men. I cry all night and he doesn’t notice. I miss my Joe. Keyla is too young to understand, I need a friend like Ma’. Ma’s friend invited me to the central church down town. Maybe I and Keyla should go on Sunday. Ma’ always told me God loves us all. Maybe he’ll provide us some money to feed. I have a bad feeling for Joe.

Dear Diary (MAY.26.1945)
It has been such a long time. I give up most times to write. Motherhood is not a child’s play. The church is so great. We are not too many and like family. I and Keyla never miss a Sunday. I am now a maid in the pastor’s house (Pastor Rawlings) and they pay me some amount for us to feed for the month. Their family is lovely. Keyla is going to be one soon and the Rawlings have promised to throw her a small party at their house. God is kind to us and I keep Joe in his hands. I know he will touch Joe’s heart to come with us to church one Sunday.

Dear Diary (JUN.20.1945)
God has restored my home and happiness again. Joe followed I and Keyla to Pastor Rawlings house for the birthday party. While there, I could tell that something had touched Joe. He and Pastor Rawlings talked for hours in the study while the party was on. When Joe stepped out of that study, I could see the Joe I once knew. My heart raced as he came to me and embraced me. He shook with emotions and cried like a baby in my arms. He asked me if I still love him and I told him there was never a day I didn’t and there will never be. We now have so much to eat at home and Keyla is even more beautiful and graceful. I and Joe had a long talk when we got back home. My heart is not at rest. Joe says he is in some kind of trouble over some money. He is asleep now. I cannot find mine.

Dear Diary (JUN.30.1945)
Joe has really turned new. He quit going out with those bad men and spending his savings at the bar. He spends time a lot with I and Keyla. He says we will grow old together and also give Keyla to a good man. The food is almost finishing, I hope I get paid for the month soon. This coming Sunday is thanksgiving at church and for the first time, Joe is coming with us.

Dear Diary (JUN.20.1950)
It’s been four years and I do not blame myself for not writing to you. I blame life. Four years of the untold feelings of pain…anger…grief…hurt…I still feel it like it was yesterday. It hurts me so much but I will write for someone who cares to read when I am gone. Besides, today is Keyla’s birthday…a loving memory. Can you remember five years back when I told you about the expected thanksgiving Sunday? Well, it never came…or maybe it came and I didn’t notice. On Saturday, a day to thanksgiving, I had gone on the day’s duty to clean Pastor Rawlings house which is quite a long walking distance from our cottage. My heart gave me no peace as I cleaned. I suddenly had no peace over Joe and his trouble. Maybe I should have left the cleaning at that moment and gone home…the Rawlings wouldn’t have minded, but I stayed and finished my cleaning. As I began my journey home at night, my heart was with Keyla. It was Joe’s first time babysitting for the whole day. As I approached the pathway to our cottage, I could see men with clubs and big sticks of fire in their hands. I looked farther, heart racing…and Jesus our cottage was set on fire! I ran with every strength in me…crying, panting, praying, “Jesus save my husband and child”. As I came closer, one man amongst the four men shouted, “Here is his lady!”. I never minded. I just ran towards the fire shouting at the top of my voice the only two names that mean everything to me…Keyla and Joe. As I almost entered the fire, two strong men held me tight and I wailed, scuffling, “My husband and child!!! Where are they?! What have you done to me…”. Raging tears poured down my eyes and one man out of the four looked at me like he pitied me while the others were ready to kill.
“Your husband and his friends got away with my fortune and thought they could go scot free” One of them raged in my face with a large stick of fire in his hand. It struck me now. Joe and Keyla are not hiding somewhere, they have not escaped into the woods…they have been locked in this burning cottage, burning to ashes…
“Nooooooooooooooooo!!!” I wailed and still scuffled, “How could you! There was a child in there! My baby is in there..S..She’s only one…she knows nothing…How can you not have a heart!” I stamped my feet on the ground endlessly, crying like a child. I really wish not to remember that day…the pain I felt is indescribable. No man can understand it except my maker. They didn’t want to spare me but then the man who raged said he would leave me to madness. He was certain this would drive me mad and I would kill myself. Well he was right because I almost did. They turned around to leave and left me in the cold, homeless but the man who looked at me with pity came back to me.
“Your husband was a good man, his friends weren’t” he said and picked me up. I begged him to let me die, to throw me in the fire with my family but he carried me still and then I remembered you dear diary were in my bag. “My diary…My bag…” I cried. He gently picked up my bag and carried me deep into the woods and also left me there. I just stared at the skies, blank. How do you explain the feeling I feel remembering Keyla today…she is supposed to be six today…Loosing Joe was loosing everything…to think that they were burnt to death…It aches me. The Rawlings have given me a life of comfort as I live with them, but am I truly comforted? No. But I will try till the day I die. I feel so much pain in my body. I am suddenly leaner. The Rawlings say I should see the doctor soon. I will.

Dear Diary (AUG.2.1950)
The doctor says I have cancer of the breast. Everyone weeps for me but somehow I am stronger than before. Me who has felt real pain what can move me now? This life is a mystery and only the maker himself can understand it. I have little time and I am wondering what I can do with it. Even though I still wipe my tears in private, I want to publicly wipe the tears off people’s faces. As many as I can. Yes, I feel something strong in me leading me.

Dear Diary (DEC.20.1950)
The Rawlings have decided to support the strong calling I have in my heart to donate all of my time and self to orphanages around the state. I traveled to an orphanage down town and saw many children who looked just as perfect as Keyla and I took as many in my arms and wept with them. I have so much work to do in little time. I must work.

Dear Diary (JUL.20.1951)
I judge God faithful still. He has given my last years a meaning; it seems all too much for me. So many homes are getting fond of me and I have established my charity home last week, “The Keyla-Joe Charity Mission Geneva”. It is fast getting recognized. I have rebuilt another cottage in the woods. I am feeling some peace inside.

Dear Diary (OCT.4.1951)
This year has been the most unusual year of my life. God has remembered me. I have travelled so wide and said my story so many times at many conferences and people donating to my life. But I have decided that nothing comes to me but goes to my charity mission. God has given me a name in short time. I t is only him not me. God has yet blessed me with many keylas. Many call me ‘mother’ and I feel Joe so proud of me. Yes, I have seen pain, grief and cried endless but these last years are nothing compared to the pain, the beauty is so much. I have experienced the beauty of answering a call which I call purpose. I am suddenly known but you my diary have known me better and I know though I have no biological child to inherit this but generations after me would pass it on. Somehow, someone will read the real “Elena Jones”.

Dear Diary (DEC.5.1951)
I feel very weak. I feel my flesh leaving my body. I see Keyla and Joe more vividly. I am going home.

“ELENA JONES DIED AT 33YEARS, 1OTH DECEMBER 1951. HER BURIAL WAS MASSIVE AND BROUGHT MUCH SORROW. FLOWERS SPRING FORTH FROM HER GRAVE EVERYDAY TILL DATE IN GENEVA. MAY HER SOUL REST IN PEACE. PROPERTY OF GENEVA ARTEFACT”

I closed the diary shaking. I had wept all through and no one seemed to wonder. I guess everyone who came to this podium also did same. What a life! Death, grief, pain, hurt, tears are no respecter of men. How can Life still be meaningful in adversity? Most times it is in a problem you find solutions. A problem must exist for a solution to manifest. Elena’s life turned out to be the solution of many lives even though a great price was paid. What is this life then! I don’t know what circumstance has made you the way you are…miserable, tired…You don’t have to wait till you have little time like Elena Jones before you see past Life’s twist and turns. Though late, Elena still in her own tears answered the call and wiped others tears and through the process, purpose was discovered, there was beauty for ashes, life ended meaningful and her name resounds. I even flew all the way to Geneva just to read her real diary!
Pain is part of life; it’s a big trick in distracting you from happiness and a purposeful life. Yes, some are unbearable. Elena’s was unthinkable but the dead you have mourned for so long would never praise you for giving up the rest of your life to grief. The beauty of life is not in cars, or money, it is in impact. Get up right now past your pains, struggles, fears, look at your challenge in the face and you will see the gain as you look closely staring back at you! You’ve been laid down for too long. You still have some time. Generations are waiting to be blessed by your story and Impact. Someone will be saved by the pain you have gone through today only if you do something.
I am arriving Nigeria with the next flight with my Life certainly changed.
With Love,
Lowla Dee
Contact me on: ladydeedollie@yahoo.com
Please note that all characters, and names of towns are fictional and may not exist.

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