It was time to further explore the neighborhood and my o my how I was looking forward to it.
I laughed as I entered the hotel lobby.
Thinking back to the words of my Turkish friend:
“Look at this place. How crazy! Like the whole world decided to come together in this tiny place.”
Taking in the energy of that time, I walked grinning toward one of the entrance and exit doors. “Man, I'm going to miss that guy.”
Arriving, a girl of about 13 blocked the door. She stood bal in front of the already open door with a child in front of her that I could only guess was her little brother. I felt how she was in ‘freeze’ and given everything I could observe in front of and beside her, I did not understand her reaction. So I decided to take a step back to give her space for the time being and also to be able to see for myself what had put her in this protective reaction.
Suddenly and seemingly out of nowhere, a man came in angrily and hurriedly from outside.
Looking at me. Looking at her.
Clearly annoyed, he snarled something at the girl, grabbed her hard by her arm and pushed her to the side with a snarl. Then, giving me, with a slightly softer look, a sign that I could pass. As if his torment toward her wasn't enough, he once again snarled viciously at her. Bringing his head down and looking at her menacingly from beneath his eyebrows. I myself did not walk through the door. Instead, I kept looking at him. Patiently waiting for his gaze to cross mine in return to make it clear to him that this scene, how he was behaving toward his daughter, did not suit me at all. My blood boiled and I sent him this heartfelt message:”What little ridiculous boy are you anyway?”
The girl clearly affected by his torment turned around startled, his arm still clamped hard around her arm, and she stuttered out at me:
“I'm so sorry. So sorry mom. So sorry”
She bent over so much that for a moment I thought she was going to get on her knees in front of me.
Quickly I answered her, as gently and understandingly as possible while looking at her with certainty in the eyes:
“It's truly nothing. It is all ok. You did absolutely nothing wrong. Absolutely nothing, ok?”
A small softening appeared in her eyes and hopefully she looked up at her father. The latter, however, made it clear with one look that he did not share my opinion or probably from his thinking ‘judgment.
She looked at the ground defeated, her shoulders hunched forward and slumped. My heart sank and I felt myself rage.
“You coward!!! You improbable furtive coward! Instead of taking responsibility for your own bullshit you smear it here on her like this. You ...”
As I filled my water bottle around the corner, I felt further into myself.
It was obviously important for myself to decide.
Are we going to leave this as it is? Yes or no?
Finally, they were clearly from India. Different culture. Different customs.
Respect for culture and so on of those things.
However this?
No. Nay. And again no!
Energy ìs energy.
She got the full brunt of his inability to deal with his own shit.
Besides, he was incredibly soft and warm toward his infant son. Why not toward her?
Nay, I will not let this be. No f*cking way.
Once I calmed down and filled my water bottle, I briskly stepped back inside.
After searching for a while, I saw her sitting completely defeated and empty on one of the sofas with her mother. Her father and little brother were nowhere to be seen. I walked toward them with certainty yet gentle in energy. She did not look up immediately when I stood in front of her until the moment I began to speak.
“You truly did nothing wrong. Your father reacting like this. That is absolutely him. Not you.”
Confused, she looked at me and doubtfully at her mother who already seemed to understand nothing at all.
So I continued:
“Do you speak English?”
“Yes mom.”, she answered me in a broken voice.
Tears sprang to my eyes at feeling her pain.
Man, how I wanted to hug her and offer warmth.
“How can anyone act so horribly toward such a young, beautiful and powerful soul? Why do so many act so incredibly horrible toward children? Argh!”
Determined to give her an imprint in power that she could use for the rest of her life, I spoke on:
“I want you to know that it is not you. How your father behaves. What he says. How he treats you. It is not your fault. My father was the same. I know how you feel. Don't allow him to take your beautiful fire.”
Then I gave her the image of her father and how, when he speaks, black muck comes out of his mouth. How that black muck is stuck on her and comes in through her skin, ears, eyes, mouth, ... And how she can, ‘simply,’ grab it and pull it out of herself or scrape it off of herself. With an energy of “Yak! No! I don't want that!”
With full expression, I pictured all this in front of her and her mother in the middle of the lobby. Not caring about the confused looks directed at me. Which made her laugh. Playful and light in energy I indicated her:
“I believe you understand me now huh?” An additional ‘we understand each other now’-snapping out at her.
She nodded confidently and with a smile at me. Her look and energy showed me that she had found her sparkle again.
“Mission accomplished,” I thought to myself with satisfaction.
Or is it?
Her mother suddenly said out of the blue:
”Yeah, but it is because he's so stressed. A lot of pressure right now.”
Bam.
The child shrank back.
Raging, I thought to myself: “Dees you're kidding right? Seriously? You're going to do this now! Allé hup. Coward number two.”
She felt her daughter coming back in strength and refused to allow it. Clearly now undertaking an attempt to undo that which her daughter had back, standing and feeling with herself. Under the guise of:
‘Now let's make up for what was not ok at all from coward No. 1 and not acknowledge our daughter's honesty in emotions and reaction.’
Juij.
Ahem.
Not so!
So my response:
“So being stressed gives your husband the right to treat your daughter like this? It does not. Your husband has no control over himself. He was shouting, rude and mean towards her. That is not ok. It is NEVER ok. And I hope you will realise this.”
And yes, she wanted to rip my head off and I thought to myself:
“Girl I don't give a shit what you think of me now. You get pissed off right now. Hopefully it'll make you think for once and hopefully you'll realize how fucked up this is.”
I turned back to the girl:
“So you keep your fire and understand it is not your shit. Ok?”
Once again portraying the image of ‘scraping shit off.
The girl looked at me with growing confidence in herself.
She brought me a slight, almost unnoticeable, nod:”I understand and I will remember.”
Her mother, still in a fury, had seen none of it.
“Perfect.”, I thought to myself.“I brought here what was important.”
I wished them happy day, turned around and walked toward the lobby exit. All ready for my ‘my o my fancy’ day.