Three Leaves, Three Roots and a Dream - A reading of Ann E. Burg's Serafina's Promise

"Banza, I have nothing to give..." so says Serafina to her dog as he wags his tail and follows her. Serafina is busy with the daily chores she ought to complete. She has no school to go to, no time to play with friends either. But the faithful dog follows her, seeking only her love and affection. The elders tell her that a 'kind heart is the fanciest dress' and Serafina is kind. But she is unhappy too.

Serafina's Promise by Ann E. Burg is one book that will stay with me forever. I read it in one go - a story in verse form. It revolves around the little Serafina, who grows up in the earthquake-ridden, flood-prone Haiti. Full of Haitian wisdom, the book makes a compelling read. Just when the 11 year old's dream of going to school is fulfilled, hurdles cross her path. Serafina is beset with questions. She cannot find answers to all her doubts. Why does one need to remember? Wherein lies the bravery of fighting if it means losing your life? What is it that the flag remembers? Is the petty grudge she harbors for her friend who goes to school really worth it? What does it mean to be really educated? Is learning a colonial language a betrayal or a means to achieving a position from where one can speak? She slowly discovers for herself the complex thing called life.

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Serafina yearns to be a doctor. But poverty has trapped her. The death of her brother is followed by the birth of another one, whose arrival she thinks will make up for all the losses she has suffered. His birth is a hope that clings to Serafina's heart. She wishes to be just like Antoinette Solaine, the nurse, who tends to the children in the village. Grandma tells Serafina to stand up for herself - if you want your eggs hatched, you need to sit on them yourself. Serafina's father too pushes her to speak, to assert, to convince others of her beliefs. Despite the restraints imposed on her dreams by her financial conditions, Serafina promises herself to become a doctor, to save those in her village from ailments, from misery, from death.

Serafina's mother is reluctant to send her to school but she loves her and helps her wade through the rising waters. Serafina's father is poor but 'happy' that he could 'afford ribbons for Serafina's hair'. Amidst all the trials and tribulations, Serafina discovers something :

I wonder what hunger is like

without a family

to fill the emptiness.....

It is not a perfect family but it definitely is the strong foundation on which rests Serafina's life. After all the failures, one has to try again. After falling down, one ought to get up again. No matter what happens, one has to "beat the drum and dance again".

The book emphasizes how history is a significantly defining factor of who we are today. Remembering is a way of showing respect. Remembering is a means of assuring that the past sacrifices were not in vain. It is important not to forget so that it does not happen again - the injustice, the anguish, the sacrifice. 

Three leaves, Three roots......

To throw down is to forget.....

To gather up is to remember.....

'Twa Fey' or Three Leaves - The song is indigenous to Haitian culture - a song of recollecting, of bearing testimony to the struggles the country has been through. It is part of incorporating a 'collective consciousness' among listeners, and singers. They stand united in memory, in thoughts. Twa Fey is a song of blending in, of unifying, of solidarity within a group that shares a common past. Twa Fey for Serafina stands for her family, her village, her country.

Serafina gives back. Her kindness makes her courageous too. And in testing situations, she fights back. She keeps her promise. She embraces the 'conqueror's language' for the time being, to equip herself, to gather the right tools to bring the change she longs for....

The sun rises

the sun sets,

little by little the bird

builds its nest!

The book is meant for young readers. Brimming with wisdom and raising topics to help young minds think and interrogate the 'givens', Serafina's Promise is a promise of betterment to reconstruct the society on the foundation of hope, memory and courage.

The verse form of the narrative is captivating and keeps the reader engaged. Ann E. Burg has managed to insinuate on topics that would be tough for young minds to comprehend in an ingenious way. The everyday struggles of people living in poverty, the desperate need for medical aid, the utmost and indispensable necessity of dreams and a firm belief that they will come true one day are some of the crucial themes in the book. The "stethoscope" may be "broken" but its very presence is an indicator of hope. The "doctor's bell" may be like a "misplaced star" but it still emits light. 

In the poem titled "The Problem with History Books", Ann E. Burg states that "research has its limits.." It is true as far as fiction is concerned. And the beauty of poetry is precisely this - it lets you expand your horizon. It lets you imagine. Serafina's Promise gives space for imagination to soar as the little girl dreams and ventures on a path that is unknown to her. As she tries to light up the lives of those around her, her own life starts radiating too. After all the devastation of floods and earthquakes, her dream lingers as a promise that she can keep forever. It will "sprout" too like the seeds she has sown in the soil. It is the "history of the human heart" (to borrow the words of William Collins) that the mesmerizing poetry of Burg's novel chronicles - a history of hope, of dreams, of promise. 

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"Hold Fast to Dreams...."

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She stared at the pages of her diary. For the past fifteen days, this diary had been her sole companion. Something had happened to her lately. Nobody knew what. She woke up one morning without any memories. She knew not her name, and who she was. 

In the facility where the doctors were trying to treat her, people came and went. They would come with photographs and other trinkets with which they tried to goad her out of this oblivion. First ones to approach were a child accompanied with his father. The man claimed to be her husband. And the child's little hands craved for her motherly touch. She felt a pang in her heart as she reached out hesitantly to the boy and hugged her to comfort him. But in her heart was just a torment. Who was she? "You are my wife", the man had replied. "Mom", the boy had cried.

Later came an old couple. They were her parents. They embraced her with a touch that gave her some relief. They brought with them stuff that had been dear to her when she had not forgotten anything. Stuff like books, paintings and her favorite food. Her gaze remained vacant as she held each of those things in her hand. "You are our daughter", the couple had pleaded before they left the room.

Some came who were about her age, though she had no idea how old she was. They were a jovial lot, her colleagues. They brought memories from the school she worked in. They humored her with silly jokes. They told her that her students missed her a lot. "You are a teacher, you ought to come back soon", they advised.

A woman simply clad in black and pink dress came and recited her favorite poem to her - Dreams written by Langston Hughes. 

Hold fast to dreams

For if dreams die

Life is a broken-winged bird

That cannot fly.

Hold fast to dreams

For when dreams go

Life is a barren field

Frozen with snow.

Before leaving the room, her friend tried to remind her that she had had many dreams she wanted to pursue. "One was to write a book, remember?" and saying that she dropped the diary in her hand.

She stared at her diary again. She took a pen and started writing something.

On the first page she wrote - Wife

On the next she wrote - Mother

On the next - Daughter

Then, Teacher.

Then, Dreamer.

Then in capitals, she wrote - WHO AM I?

and she closed the diary shut.

‘This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.’

Also Linking to IndiSpire #132 

Delusions......

"How are you Sonia?" Papa's tone was so confident when he asked this question. As if he already knew the answer. Mum had been a little shaky at first but she believed in Papa's decisions with the simple sincerity of a wife. 

"I am fine Papa" was Sonia's reply to both of them. 

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"I knew it", came the assured response from the other side. After a brief conversation Sonia hung up the phone. 

Papa had chosen the best match for her. He made sure that the boy was not just good-looking, something she too had wanted and also got. Papa saw the salary, the background, the home, the locality....everything. Like most fathers, he wanted his daughter to get the best. 

Like most fathers, her father-in-law had acted in the best interest of his son too. He had chosen for his son a beautiful, confident but obedient bride from a similar background. He too bragged about his wise decision.

Only Sonia and her husband knew the truth. She found it out when she discovered his picture with his boy-friend. He had lost courage before his overpowering father. She wanted to help him. The few days they had been together, she had fallen in love with him. He was gentle unlike most men she had known in her life. That he would reciprocate her feelings was just wishful thinking. 

Still she wanted to help - help him and herself. But she didn't know how......

Linking to Blog-a-rhythm's Day 6 of the #BarAthon #Blogging Challenge 

Outgrown.....

Soumya looked at them again. Then, she picked them up, and caressed them. The gentle grey and the soft pink colors played in her eyes, and perhaps in her memory too. She was in that room, but only physically. Her mind was transported somewhere else along with her heart. She was of slim built. Her hands were long, and her fingers thin and lean. In those slender but long hands, the tiny shoes looked even tinier. She hugged them, once again. Then, she lifted her head as if she was woken from a trance. She looked around. The room was scattered with clothes. Her four year old daughter was busy playing with some trinkets she had just taken out from the closet.

"Devika, can you come here, my dear?" She called out to her daughter.

The little girl took some sprightly steps towards her and landed in her lap.

"Look at these shoes. These were your first walking shoes. You took your first little steps wearing them."

Devika looked at them. "Pretty", she said. Then, she held the tiny shoes in her hand for a moment. Something else caught her attention the next minute. "Dollie.....my lost dollie....", she loosened her mom's grip dropping the shoes from her hands, and jumped away.

With a sigh, Soumya picked up the shoes.

They don't mean anything to her at this age. And why will they? I am the one whose mind is filled with memories of those days. The many moments I have spent with her, the times I have fallen with her, the instants I have cried with her, feeling the pain of the cuts and scrapes on her knees and hands. It is me who is more attached to these tiny shoes. They are not just shoes for me. They are part of my motherhood. But to her, they are just shoes that don't fit anymore......... Baby shoes, how I had searched for the best I could afford for her, going from one shop to another....... Baby shoes are so pricey. The cuter they look....... the pricier they get....But I stole a deal that day, thank my lucky stars.....

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She touched the shoes one more time. Even though her daughter had used them so often, they were in the best condition. Unspoiled, un-torn, and beautiful.

They can be really useful for someone....another little girl like mine....someone's little princess.....They might brighten her eyes as she will look at these little beauties....hmm....I will miss them.....but.....that's not important.....Some other mom like might be able to smile as she watches her angel walk in these gems....

Her hands hesitated. Her heart ached. She put them in a bag and dropped them in the box labelled DONATION.



Linking to Blog-a-rhythm's  Day 5 of the #BarAThon #blogging challenge