The Weak Salute

27th January 2009

Dear Reader,

‘.....and they called him god for a day’.

I passed a girl scout today. She was all dressed in green with a sash tightly secured around her left shoulder, winding its way around her miniscule waist and meeting itself at a knot where it was finally laid to rest. This sash bore the many insignia of her laboured efforts. Juxtaposed against a purple background these badges would be just the beginning for her un-relenting social obedience in the future. A small screech rolled out from behind her as her cookie boxes rattled uncontrollably on her twisted axel cart. It was a funny moment as she bumped into me, blissfully unaware of what I was and where I have come from in my life. I felt no malice, no shame, just a blinding light of forgotten childhood memories, which pushed eagerly from my subconscious into my free thoughts.

Our sins are written in blood, we may never see their effects and our hands may seem so clean. But underneath it all, the hidden lie is revealed, that is, morality is but a weak salute. During my teenage years I was under court appointment to serve in a military facility and it is here I learnt the truth behind the salute. Respect to both ourselves and our superiors, honour amongst brethren and if none of those appealed to you, then the salute represented strict submission to an order that frowned at the faculty to think. I became a believer to the latter wisdom.

The Girl Scout is my muse today, a child of innocence preparing for a life of unexpected tragedies and joys. I remember my first day of grade 8, primary school was a thing of the past and the future held new possibilities. My mother and I had left the town that had forgotten us and we had set up new lives on a street where we received numerous plates of welcoming goodies. I remember pulling up to the front gate of my new school, hand resting on the old, rusted upright pole that hinged the entrance and thinking ‘this is my time’. The archway that bottlenecked the bustling students into the hallway of the school was grand, it was obviously the pinnacle of this school and something that had cost a lot of money to build and maintain. As I walked through under its dominating presence, I stood content, but then something happened that was all too familiar. A boy about twice the size of me, legs like tree trunks, arms as wide as a flapping buzzard, knocked my books out of my hands. As I leaned over to pick up the books, his towering demeanour shadowed my wiry figure and again I receded to the place of torment. Wherever I go, darkness will follow. Laughter rang through the lively hallways as the following words resounded down every wall, ‘hey fag, watch where ya goin’.

This is not the end, but it is here I will leave you for today. Tomorrow we’ll finish and you will see why they called me ‘god for a day’.