I learned at an early age the freedom and satisfaction one can experience from truth. When I was in the fourth grade an incident took place which I believe changed me from an outspoken extrovert into a shy and withdrawn child. One day, immediately after my last class, I ran to the school bus so that I would be the first person on the bus. My eagerness had to do with getting home soon and not missing my favorite cartoons. As usual, I sat next to a window and looked out all during the bus ride, entertained by the life outside. When the driver approached Dolores Park, she suddenly stopped by an apartment which was next to a butcher shop on San Jose Avenue and 30th Street. She then opened the school bus door and let in a man. From that moment on, a drama ensued as the bus driver and her friend started yelling at each other. Soon the screaming turned into physical violence. The man first shook the bus driver by her shoulders then he hit her and spat on her face. I was sitting only three rows behind and could hear loud and clear the words spoken and the sounds they made. My initial thought was that the man was going to kill my bus driver and I would never get home on time for my favorite cartoon. However, that thought lasted no more than a minute as I became fearful that the man would also come after me. Isn’t that what always happens? Murderers get rid of all eye-witnesses. Paralized by fear, I managed enough strength to slide further down in the seat, and did my very best to become invisible. When I got home I had forgotten to watch my favorite cartoon and instead I went to bed, hoping to forget what happened on the bus. Once in bed, a mixture of emotions overcame me. I felt like an accomplice of the man for not having said or done anything in defense of the woman bus driver. I knew then, I would go to jail. I also felt like a coward. I had seen bullies in the school yard and always thought that, when confronted by the sight of one bullying someone else, I would intervene in defense of the victim, but that had not happened on the bus. I then thought I would have to move to another city to escape the murderer or the police, but I was too young to have any money and go anywhere on my own.
Besides, how would I leave my mother and grandfather? For the next two years I lived in hiding and in extreme fear of being found out by the man who, surely, wanted to kill me. I stopped going out to play and became sullen and withdrawn. Even though I tried very hard to forget about it, I could not. One day, I summoned all the courage I had and I finally told my mom and grandfather. As I finished recounting the story I felt an almost instantaneous sense of well-being, as if a great weight, which I had been lugging around, had been lifted off my shoulders. Soon after I forgot entirely about the incident and it is not until now, many years after, that I think of it again.
Telling the truth truly set me free. Ever since that moment I try to be honest and truthful with every person I meet.
I understand what you mean about how you believe that you could be a hero for someone in trouble. Who wouldn’t want to be one? I think everyone wants to be a hero in life. However, when the event is happening in front of you, I think courage becomes overshadowed by fear. In my opinion, courage is an enabler, but fear disables. In this case, you were only a child. Naturally, you were in survival mode so you had no choice but to hide yourself. Even after this scary incident, you weren’t eager to let anyone know what had happened, traumatized with fear and guilt.
ReplyDeleteI had the same experience when I was I middle school. There was a liquor store next to my school, which was not in a very good neighborhood. After school, most kids went to the store to buy chips or sodas. I was in the store with my friend when two gangsters walked in and tried to rob the store. All of a sudden, screams filled the air, baseball bats were being pulled out, and all the kids were rushing into each other towards the back of the store since the front entrance was being blocked. As the fight moved away from the exit, many of us managed to escape. Instead of calling the police, I just ran home, wanting to forget it ever happened. I still feel guilty today when I drive past the store.
It looks that this experience marked your life forever. You were just a kid trying to arrive home the quickest you could so that you could watch your favorite cartoon. But instead an uncomfortable event happened and guilt began to disturb you. It took a lot of courage for you to talk to you mother and grandfather about what you had experienced. For me that courage weights more, and in a positive way it served to alleviate your emotions. I think that what you were experiencing at that moment (guilt) was perfectly normal for the simple reason that you could not of done anything. You thought you were able to do something but at that moment you were thinking about saving your life, which is normal (survival). You were just a child and you were being hard on yourself. You wanted to do something to help the lady driver. I believe that everyone has a moment like this in their life, thinking they could have done something else to help but instead they didn't do anything and they felt guilt. I think this is natural behavior for the human race.
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