Unexpected Journey

CHAPTER 1

E MMA WAS BORN IN 1812, the fifth child of a prosperous wool trader in Greenland; her four siblings were boys. She grew up playing with her brothers. Her father lifted her up to reach the fruit on the trees, took her with his boys to the river to fish, helped her to catch a frog, put a little fish in her hand, and got her a colorful bird in a cage. She would run out to watch and touch the sheep when the shepherd took them out of the barn to the field. Emma enjoyed all the attention and liked all the experiences she was exposed to. Only the bird in the cage didn’t amaze her; she cried and opened the door to let it go.

The most shocking reality to that little child happened at six years of age when her fresh mind faced inexplicable rules based on gender. Up until that moment, it hadn’t meant much to her.

Emma, where are you? called her mother.

I am going to play with my brothers, Mother.

No, you should stay here with me.

But they are all out. Why I can’t go?

Her father’s harsh voice came from behind her. Listen to your mother, Emma. Don’t argue.

She turned her head to where the voice came from, her mouth about to pronounce the word But—

Emma didn’t know where to hide, as her father’s face turned red, its muscles contracted around fiery eyes. His scary mouth was opened wide as he shouted, You are a girl; you can’t play with boys anymore. Be careful. If I know about any misbehavior, you will be punished and won’t go to school.

That statement was a turning point in Emma’s short life. She didn’t understand the word punishment, but it seemed scary. School, she knew was that small room close to the church filled with children like her, and a big woman with a wooden stick in her hand.

Emma cried a lot that day. Her brothers’ voices coming from the yard squeezed her heart painfully. After that, she avoided looking directly in her father’s eyes; a big barrier was forming with him and even with her brothers.

The father was her idol, but he became both an idol and an enemy. She hated him for what he said and the way he said it. She hated herself and her mother for being girls, limited to staying home and doing all the cleaning, cooking, and weaving of cloth.

At eight years old, by a total coincidence, Emma heard her mother, from behind their bedroom door crying. She stood there listening.

I would like to go with my parents to visit my sister.

Which sister?

My sister Mercy.

What are you talking about?

I won’t be absent for long—only two days.

You want to visit that disfigured human?

But she is a human like anyone.

No she isn’t. It was my mistake to marry you; you have such a witchy sister. Don’t mention her name before me or anyone else. Do you understand? Then her father left home with her siblings. Emma saw her mother in the kitchen crying.

Mother, who is Mercy?

Her mother’s eyes opened wide. Who told you about her?

No one. I heard you talking to my father.

Are you sneaking around our room?

No, Mother. I heard my father raising his voice; I stopped by your door.

You shouldn’t know about her. Don’t mention it to your brothers.

But why? Does my father know?

Yes, but this a forgotten story; no one dares to mention her name.

Where is she?

In a convent with religious women.

Why?

She was born with an abnormal body—one side is bigger than the other.

Everything?

"Yes—eye, ear, arm, and leg. When she started walking, naturally she was limping. My mother kept my sister at home till she was five years old—I was eight years old then. Then my father came one day with women who were strangers in his carriage. They stayed at our home three days, and during their visit, my mother didn’t stop crying. No one told me what was going on.

The third day, the women with long, dark dresses mounted the carriage holding Mercy’s hand, and they took her with them. My mother fell on her knees, kissing my father’s shoes to keep Mercy. Mercy was crying, shouting, and kicking the women. It was the last time I saw her. My father used to take my mother to visit her once a year.

So, you never saw her again?

Never—they asked me to forget about her completely.

But why did they send her there?

People believe that any physical distortion means a bad spirit is living in the body, and the person is a witch.

What about Mercy? What did she say to her mother?

The first few years, she kept crying. She wanted to come back home, but then she understood why she couldn’t.

Do people still believe the same thing?

Unfortunately, yes.

And you, Mother, do you think the same?

I don’t know. A disfigured person scares me. I don’t want to be close to them.

What about Father?

He believes that a bad soul resides in a strange body.

If I were born with a deformity, what would you do?

Why are you asking such questions?

Only to know.

I am not sure what I would do myself, but as for your father, he would send the child to such a place.

At ten, Emma felt a strong desire to prove to her father that she was not any less than her brothers were. She wanted him to know how wrong he was and that he had underestimated her strength and will. When her father and brothers were absent, she turned all her attention to her mother so that she could ask questions of her. Emma inquired as to the justification for the rules she had to accept from her father. She wanted to find a way to be equal to her brothers.

When her father and brothers were present, Emma watched and listened attentively to hear what boys did or said differently. She volunteered to help even if no one asked or thanked her. She didn’t expect praise or acknowledgment; this was only for her book of life.

As usual, while the men were out and Emma and her mother were alone in the kitchen, Emma took advantage of being with her mother to get the answers to her inquiries.

Mother?

Yes!

Did you go to school?

No.

Why?

In my youth, we didn’t have school in Greenland.

So, you don’t read or write?

No.

How come my father can read and write?

At that time, it was a must for men to read the Bible.

But, he does more than that. He writes and calculates!

Yes, some families promised the teacher food, wood, and cloth, and in return he gave their sons extra lessons.

Mother—

Emma, stop asking; finish your job.

I did all that you asked me to do. I am here to help you prepare supper.

I have to admit you are a great help, Emma. Sometimes, I feel sorry that you don’t have sisters or cousins your age—not even neighbors with daughters to be your friends.

Mother, do you want me to set the table?

Hurry up. The sun is setting; soon your father and brothers will be here.

One Sunday after mass, Emma’s father came into the house, put his coat on its hanger roughly, and shouted, Emma, where are you?

I am here, Father. She came to stand before him, her eyes fixed on the floor. Before she knew it, a strong cold hand hit her left check. Emma almost lost her balance, and she covered her face with her slim hands, tears burning in her eyes. Her soul shouted, I hate you; I hate you! Giggles were heard, and her brothers laughed. Her inner voice added, I hate you too—I hate all of you!

Do you hide anything, Emma?

Like what, Father?

You are eleven years old now, and you don’t recall what happened in the school?

I am sorry, Father. It was my mistake.

Tell me exactly what happened.

I asked the teacher if the girls will learn calculations. Then she called me to stand in front of the girls, and she hit my palms with her wooden stick. I apologized, and she let me go back to my place.

You are a troublemaker, Emma, You dishonor me twice with your actions, first by asking such a stupid question and more by keeping the incident a secret.

I ask for your forgiveness, Father. I won’t do it again.

To let you know, there will be no second chance. Another problem and you will stay home—no school after.

Emma’s legs and hands were shaking fearfully. She hardly could say, Forgive me. Thank you, Father. As she stood there, it seemed to her an eternity before her father dismissed her.

That night, Emma couldn’t sleep because of the pain that filled her young body. She heard her father lecturing her mother to teach her daughter appropriate conduct; otherwise, no one in Greenland would ask for her hand. He said, Men in Greenland aim for wives to look after their houses, to raise their children; they do not want stubborn, opinionated wives.

With this statement from her father, Emma added all Greenland’s men to her list of those to whom she must prove that even though she was born a girl, she wasn’t less a person than a boy. But would she have the chance to do so?

After that school incident, Emma lost confidence in every human who came close to her. She learned how to avoid clashes and conflict and kept believing in herself. She got closer to her mother, even though she didn’t like her for how submissive she was, but her mother was the only one who could answer her questions. She tried to turn each curse to a lesson.

Emma never showed weakness in front of others, and she did not cry or complain or flatter. Hadn’t she heard her father lecturing her brothers to act like men? He would say, Men never cry. Act with no complaining and never flatter. She never thought of herself as less than a man. She fought the circumstances to protect her dignity.

At twelve years of age, Emma felt like a caged eagle—her wings were tightly bound and her dreams hit the walls. Her brain was hungry to acquire information.

On her way back and forth to school with her father who proudly rode in his carriage, she paid attention to each piece of information coming out of his mouth as he spoke in a monologue: The field to the right belongs to the Woody family; they raise sheep like I do, but my herd is numerous and better. … To the left, the Western family has plenty of olive trees. … Next to the Westerns are the Cliffs. … Those two houses far away are the Waves family. They are Greenland’s main protection force leaders; they lead a group of warriors. He never mentioned any modest house or small piece of land on either side of the road.

Emma kept all this information in mind even though it wasn’t of real value for her at that time. But later, she understood her father’s purpose in telling her all that; he was showing her the families of his social class.

At thirteen, Emma’s body began to change. She felt pain exactly where her mother had breasts, and a small patch of hair appeared in a private spot on her body.

The girls in school suddenly had secrets to share between them, and they were all talking and laughing. They excluded Emma from these conversations because she had kept a distance from them after that famous question about calculation.

The ache of her changing body and the other girls’ rejection was too much to bear. Each night, in her bed, she spent hours fighting her tears till the hot drops escaped her eyes and washed away some of the pain to calm her down and put her to sleep.

Lately, the conversations between her parents (with her father doing most of the talking) took some time to fade away before silence was heard in their room. She tried to capture some of the words, but she could only hear her name, the school, a proposal … nothing more.

Suddenly Emma became alarmed and she rushed to the kitchen to see her mother, her voice trembling. Mother?

Yes, Emma, what’s wrong?

My skirt is full of blood.

Did you cut yourself?

No, Mother, I went to the bathroom and—

Ah, you are— And she laughed.

I am what, Mother?

You’re not a little girl anymore.

But, what?

You’re a woman now; you can marry and have children. I have to tell your father.

No, Mother, please don’t.

He has to know. This is what parents want for their girls in the first place. Come with me. I will show you how to keep yourself clean.

Emma didn’t like the fact that she would experience this mess every month. She considered herself dirty and unworthy, and she avoided her father and brothers more than ever.

After a few months, Emma got used to her new body and regained her confidence, and then she discovered the girls’ secret in her class—the whispers about their puberty.

During the last week of school that year, the priest of Greenland came to the girls’ classroom to examine the ability of each one to read the Bible. At the end of the session, he stood up, mentioned a few names (including Emma’s) to congratulate each one and offer her a rosary, and then announced the end of schooling for them.

At the priest’s announcement, Emma’s heart sank to her stomach. While the others were delighted to be done with their schooling, this was the end of her hope to be exposed to a world full of mysteries.

CHAPTER 2

M O THER?

Yes, Emma.

What I am going to do at home from now on?

What a question! You have lots of things to learn before you become a real woman.

What do you mean by ‘real woman’?

I mean someone who can cook, make cloth, clean, raise children, take care of the vegetable garden. Isn’t that enough for you, Emma? Women’s work never ends.

I believe you, Mother. I see you. Why do men have the freedom to—

Stop it, Emma. Your jealousy won’t do you any good. Your attitude irritates your father. I am warning you, Emma. If you show stubbornness, you will regret it forever.

Emma fixed her eyes on the kitchen’s window, watching the birds stand on the tree branches, then take off. Aren’t they happy? Do they know how lucky they are? she thought. Then her mother’s voice got her back to the present moment.

Hurry up, Emma. Your father and brothers have arrived.

The table is ready, Mother.

Emma made it a point to help her mother quickly set the dinner table and clean the kitchen. Then the time came to sit in the family room knitting or spindling wool in total silence, for her mind and attention all went to the men’s conversation as they recalled what had happened during the day. No one could measure Emma’s happiness when her father addressed one of her siblings and gave him a harsh warning for any inappropriate act, word, or reaction in front of his associate or simply any stranger. Her brothers’ embarrassment increased her self-esteem. Boys made mistakes; they weren’t superior to her. During the school season, she paid special attention to understand what the boys said concerning calculations and other homework.

Since Emma had stopped going to school, she could see what kind of social life her mother had. A few women that she had never met (or maybe never paid attention to) dropped by for a short time before noon. Relatives or not, all addressed Emma with kind words, but for no reason, they appeared to size her up from head to toes. This made her uncomfortable, especially when they lowered their voices as if they were confiding a secret to her mother.

One day, Emma surprised her mother by asking, How come, Mother, you don’t visit these ladies? They are the ones who always come to visit you?

As you see, Emma, we have lots of work to do.

These ladies don’t have work to do?

Yes, but …

But what, Mother? I saw you more than once, leaning on the trunk of the tree, shading your tears. Why don’t you go to visit these ladies? You have time.

I can’t go.

Why?

Stop it, Emma.

Please tell me why.

Your father doesn’t want me to be around people who are related to my family.

What is wrong with your family?

My brothers and sisters-in-law are not from upper-class families.

What do you mean by ‘upper-class families’?

The ones who have much land, great crops, or livestock, and those who are acquainted with traders, warriors’ commanders, and so on.

Why did he marry you if you aren’t up to his standard?

No, it is not my immediate family that he doesn’t like; they are the families-in-law, the one my brother and my two sisters got married to.

But I recall visiting them a few times and playing with their children. They were nice people, Mother.

I know, but now it is different.

Different in what way?

Ah, Emma, your life won’t be easy with such insistence to know everything. Women should believe their males’ words like the Bible. They know better than we do.

Emma bit her tongue and swallowed her anger. Then like a small child, she said, Please, please, Mother, tell me. I promise not to trouble you with this subject anymore.

Your father doesn’t want his favorite families to see us spending time with the modest ones; he is looking for the best in-laws for your brothers and you to ally with.

After that explanation, Emma made it a point to busy herself in the presence of the relatives whom her father considered unsuitable to be close to. She came to welcome them, and she would offer them a cup of coffee or a hot drink before returning to her work.

Mrs. Wool, Mrs. Wool.

Emma’s mother heard a man’s voice calling her. She left the dough she had been kneading and held her hands up as she came to the door and asked, Who is this?

This is your cousin’s son, Mother.

Ah, Joseph, why are you here?

My mother needs the rat poison she asked you for."

Emma, get me the package on the floor behind the kitchen door. Son, tell your mother not to send you next time; I would rather she came.

Emma handed the package to the young man, whom she hadn’t seen for many years. She noticed how embarrassed he was after hearing her mother make that harsh comment. He hurriedly took the package, said thank you, and turned to leave. Her mother went back to the kitchen.

Emma stood there smiling. She found pleasure in watching a man facing a rejection, for she reconciled this with her own rejection that she struggled with.

Like magic, out of nowhere, her father stood before her, and with both hands took her neck. He raised her face close to his and asked, What is that stupid smile on your face? He shook her a few times, threw her to the floor, and stepped on her hand.

Frozen at the kitchen door, watching the scene, her mother said, Please wait!

What was that man doing here?

Joseph! He is the son of my cousin Jane.

I know who he is. What is he doing in my home while I am not in?

He didn’t come in. Jane sent him to get her the field rat poison. I told him not to come again for any request.

He released Emma’s hand. She turned with pain, her face in a state of shock and confusion. Her twisted skirt revealed the inner side of her legs, and blood was creeping down to her feet.

Terrified by the sight of the fresh blood, the father called to her, Stand up, stand up. Emma, stand up!

Emma closed her eyes and fell into a deep sleep.

Without looking at his wife, he told her to stop crying and to clean the floor before the boys came in. Then he bent and lifted Emma’s heavy body in his arms. Laying her on her bed, he checked her pulse. She was alive, but in what condition? Who knew?

The Wool family endured twenty-four miserable hours of fear and anxiety, uncertain of what would happen to Emma. They couldn’t seek help; they didn’t want anyone to learn about the incident.

Relief filled the house when Emma opened her eyes and was able to respond to her mother’s requests that she move her hands and her legs. Emma’s recovery went slowly but surely. Even though she had pain everywhere, there was no injury to worry about.

A few weeks later, the father called his wife and Emma for a talk. The boys were preparing the carriage and its horses for the trip to Sandland, the nearest commercial locality to Greenland. By carriage it was a four-hour trip.

Her father addressed Emma by saying, In the presence of your mother, I would inform you about the accepted conduct of a girl here in Greenland, and specifically of my own daughter.

Emma nodded her head slightly to acknowledge this.

From now on, you are subject to be chosen as a wife.

Yes.

To let you know, both of you, I won’t consider any approach coming from families that aren’t on the same level with me. Is that clear?

Yes.

Emma understood the lesson the hard way. She had no other option, nowhere to go. Her father’s house was the only place to stay in. She didn’t agree with him, but it made no difference.

Based on the father’s instructions, her mother had changed Emma’s clothes, hair, and shoes. They had taken her to the major occasions: weddings, baptisms, and funerals, and every Sunday they had attended church. Emma was taught how to walk and talk. Her head and shoulders were straight and she held herself upright. She was expected to be polite and sober—laughter wasn’t for respected women.

In this way, the father turned his daughter to a silent statue, and her inner mind and soul became restless.

Since enduring all these changes, Emma never felt comfortable in her father’s presence. She was more eager to get married than he was, and she looked forward impatiently to getting out of his house. She couldn’t wait for the first request to come.

The only positive part of her father’s unfairness and disrespect was his resolve in not considering any request to marry his daughter unless it came from a distinguished family and a well-known man. Her father’s attitude gave Emma strength and made her proud of herself when she stood before her peers and whenever she had to contend with anyone besides her immediate family members.

CHAPTER 3

A T SIXTEEN, EMMA WENT WITH her mother to a warrior’s funeral. James Bake, a young warrior, had died defending Greenland’s fields against invaders. At that time, warriors were seen as the highest rank in society; it was an honor to be one of them, related to them, or even just to be in their presence during public occasions.

When Emma and her mother arrived and sat close to the Waves’ family on the women’s side, every head in the place turned to look at the svelte young girl in her flattering black dress that showed a small portion of her lovely neck and her hands with their long, slender fingers. Emma’s hair was tied in the back. Her features were clear and attractive. No one failed to notice her gracious presence that day on that special occasion.

Emma had become what her father wanted her to be. She walked slightly behind her mother, acknowledged each lady they met as her mother did, and then took her place next to her mother. She adjusted her skirt to properly cover her legs, and her hands rested on her lap.

The place was full of attendees; the ceremony for a warrior was different and more glorious than other ceremonies. It was treated with extreme respect.

After the well-dressed crowd had filled the place, a group of comrades of the late warrior arrived, marching in formation. The casket was lifted on the shoulders of the men in the first row.

Arthur Waves, the twenty-one-year-old leader of Greenland’s defense unit, was the first to salute the elevated body and cover the casket with their unit’s flag and pay his respects to the family of the dead man. James Bake was being honored that day for falling in the line of duty while serving his locality. After this recognition, Arthur then withdrew himself, leaving the place to the priest to start the religious sermon.

Arthur caught Emma’s attention. He was a strong, handsome man with powerful body language, so he was the center of consideration for many of the young ladies in attendance.

While the priest was performing his duties, Arthur stood at attention and looked carefully at the people in the crowd, one by one, in order to recognize each and every person in his community, as part of his obligation.

Arthur’s eyes met Emma’s for a second, and then she directed her gaze to another spot, a customary sign of respect. Her shyness only magnified her femininity. Arthur was particularly enraptured with Emma’s remarkable presence. He loved her straight posture, her shining eyes. He couldn’t resist stealing glances to where she was sitting in the front row next to her mother and not far from where his own mother sat.

Arthur’s mother didn’t miss her son’s glances, and with a sly movement, she discovered at whom his gaze was directed.

The vibrant sadness of the occasion increased Emma’s self-assurance. Pain and sorrow were for everyone, no matter how important or not, man or woman. Because of her craving to know more and more, she observed everything during this occasion so that she could acquire any new pieces of knowledge.

Emma detected everything that came into her field of vision and looked around the place with intense interest. If anyone observed the brightness of her eyes, they wouldn’t guess what was going on in Emma’s powerful mind. It looked like a normal reaction of an attractive young girl who was enjoying people’s attention toward her. But in reality, Emma’s thoughts were deeper than anyone could imagine. Emma was absorbing the details of each moment that passed by, registering all actions, movements, and conversations, and recording them in the registry in her mind to satisfy her curiosity.

Lost in her thoughts, Emma didn’t notice the end of the sermon and the departure of the casket. People began to leave and her mother called, Emma, let’s go.

Leaving the place, walking toward the main road slowly behind others who were chatting and commenting, they heard a voice call from behind them. Mrs. Wool.

Oh, hello, Mrs. Waves. We are sorry for Greenland’s loss.

A great loss, but this is life.

Yes, you are right.

So, this is the beautiful Emma, the one who successfully finished the Bible study? Congratulations.

Both of them answered, Thank you very much, Mrs. Waves.

When they reached the fence by the road, they were pushed forward by people from behind, and the conversation came to its end. Mrs. Waves concluded the conversation by saying, Have a nice day.

You too, Mrs. Waves.

As they walked down the road, for the first time, Emma’s mother spoke to her, as if she was addressing one of her before-noon visitors.

Do you know, Emma, who Mrs. Waves is?

No.

She is Arthur Waves’ mother.

You mean the leader who saluted the late?

Yes. By the way, did you notice how he was observing you?

No, I didn’t, Emma answered, averting her eyes so her mother would not see that she was being untruthful.

It is better that you didn’t. Anyway, I think he is up to something.

Don’t let false hope deceive you, Mother.

Oh, you are a mature woman, Emma. Listen to me, I am not hoping. I am commenting on what my eyes and mind tell me. I won’t say it to strangers, but I have to report that to your father.

No, Mother, please don’t do it! You know better than me how he interprets actions and words.

Anyway, you didn’t do anything wrong. Also, we can’t control others’ looks; if he liked you then our dream came true.

You mean my father’s dream?

Stop it, Emma. I can’t wait to tell him.

Under her breath Emma muttered, I wonder why you allow yourself to breath in his absence.

That night, the conversation in her parents’ bedroom, as usual, was mostly a monologue, but for the first time ever, her mother was in charge.

In the morning, Emma was tense and she avoided her father’s stares. Nevertheless, in order to keep the family members posted, the father announced to her brothers his expectation of a visit from a possible suitor. He gave his instructions on how to act according to the importance of the occasion and the candidate.

Two days went by and nothing had happened. An air of depression affected everyone’s mood, especially Emma, who felt the failure of being unwanted.

At dinnertime on the third day, Emma was fighting her disappointment and loss of appetite, when a knock on the door froze everyone in their places. Then the family members gave each other inquisitive gazes. The youngest son opened the door, and a young man stood there.

May I speak with Mr. Wool, the father?

Emma’s father moved to meet the investigator. Yes, son?

Good evening, sir. I am the Waves’ messenger.

Yes, go ahead.

Mr. Waves, the father, asks your permission to visit you with his family this coming Sunday at the teatime.

They are welcomed.

Thank you, sir. Have a nice evening.

Father waited few seconds before he closed the door behind the messenger as was proper. As soon as he turned back toward the table, he looked like he had doubled in size. His chest, shoulders, and neck were stretched to the maximum, and his body was saying, I knew it; I am important. Who wouldn’t want to ally with me?

Everyone around the table joined in the father’s show of pride and their chests also swelled up. Even Emma considered it a validation of who she was.

Just like a bee hive, the Wools’ house, on that Sunday, was vibrant. The father (acting the part of the queen bee) gave orders and instructions on what should be done and what shouldn’t.

At exactly five o’clock, Emma’s mother peered out the window and whooped. Come and see. Three carriages!

Emma came over beside her mother. She didn’t utter a sound but her heartbeats went faster and faster. Then the orders from her father caught her attention.

Women, go from behind the window to the guest room. Let the men welcome our visitors.

The guest room at the Wools was a rectangular, medium-size room, simply but expensively furnished. It had one large window. A big paint of the grandfather hung on the wall, and nice wool carpets covered the settees as well as the floor.

The father and his sons stepped outside the door and waited for the Waves to reach the house. To his surprise, the group was made up of numerous people, accompanied by the priest, Greenland’s sheriff and four members of the defense unit.

Astonished by the formal presence, the Wools stood formally to shake hands. Once inside the house, Emma stood beside her mother, and together they greeted Mrs. Waves and the other women in her company.

The tea and baked goods were ready and these were served to the visitors, with generous compliments given for the tasty cookies. General conversation was exchanged between men on one side of the room and between the women on the other side. One young lady stood up and volunteered