Ercell Valcina Fleurima's Page

“I hope I’m not boring you?!?”



{The reels of your mind turn, the camera of your eyes (reader) watch her become insightful, soft spoken and a bit dismal}








CKIARA. At the age of four I was introduced to what later would be my torment, my savior, my passion and “my sin?” My sex and the acts!!! The way it was introduced to me by adult men, were more like a mental seduction that later turned physical…
What I mean is; they got into my mind then enticed me with what I thought were; strange feelings in my body back then. and today I know now to be arousal. Yet the feelings back then were more like awful yet interesting memories. It was awful because at that time I was told I could tell no one; that “I was the cause of grown men to have those feelings for me! I was bad and that no one would believe me regardless.” I knew what happened to me was a bad thing yet the depictions in media altered my perception of rape and molestation.
Their stories were filled with guilt, but I had none, just wonder and sometimes feelings, physical desires and disgust, I did not understand but sometimes enjoyed.
The media people said; “Tell someone!”
When I spoke up, I was told nothing like that ever happen to me, that I was a bright imaginative child; in other words I made it up!
I have learned that the generation of which my parents came from, denial is the way of life. So, they thought they’d pass it on! I really believe they thought it was best for me at first…
I convinced myself that I was “delusional”… it all was truly in my mind!




{She remains silent for several minutes then begins to polish the wood floor. She stops walks to a small file cabinet removes an old file, looks through it and pulls out a wrinkled old paper and asks her guest.}




CKIARA. You want to hear it?



{There is only silence in the darkening room.}




CKIARA (pouts). Well too bad! You’re going to have to hear anyway!”

Wow!
This one is old!
I shall honor you with more of my soul’s art.
It’s so lonely here
Where is my heart?
My mind wonders
Where is my heart?
I am rather or have become numb.
Just in the chest area
I don’t feel a thing
It’s hollow
If objects could be thrown through it
I would not feel a thing.
It’s empty, transparent at times..
Seems that it exists
But much like god, I cannot prove it to me
I am dying I feel so old
Yet I am young



I am dying but in life
And sometimes…

{She sighs}

I welcome the good night!
Because
It’s so lonely here
Being alone amongst many a thousand

Yet I feel this love
And it makes me want to fight

I try to catch the will/ambition to go on
When it is strong in me
But imposition throws itself at me
Then like a feather in the wind it goes
And blows away from me…
There is no one to share my thoughts with
It’s so lonely here and I am freezing
Without warmth and understanding
They hate for no reason
Only surrounded by those not interested in comprehension
Their mark on the world is all they care for
And a status to prove they are so much more than others
I speak to be responded to by harsh words
The love I’ve been shown is
Selfish wills commands and reckless impositions
They do not hold my conceptions or me in high regard
For they have read many a book and never questioned why?
I too read from their books and gave it a try
But still my reason differs
So they say I am a lie
I have no reason









I am “out of my mind”
I am all-wrong.
This has been dictated
To me and branded on my skin
I am sin
It’s so lonely here in my soul
My body is all I feel
And I hunger for strangers
They leave me content for a minute
Fill my body with their brand of joy
Their pleasure makes me feel alive
And I feel I’ve served a purpose
If I can not rejoice
I let others take their joy from me
But those actions I have to hide
Yet the hunger restores
And I begin to crave once more.
My sin I do not feel
For what’s in the bottle
With its last drop, it lets me sleep all night
With a dead like sense of safety
The dead don’t hurt any more
See in my family
There lives much hate
There lives the monster called uncertainty
Our house pet is called rejection
And a liar called denial

So different from them I be,
They point their finger and say it all begun with me.
It’s so lonely here
I bark to the bartender “another round here for my friends!”
Then the voice pleads
Where is my heart I ask again?
So drunk I can’t see!





THE VOICES SAY.
"The bottom of that bottle
Will only close doors!
Cause you to become a no more.”


CKIARA. The one that numbs the pain?
I ask the voice inside
That enemy does not forsake me
Its spirits in me
Medicate my bruised being
Although that drink does
Break and my spirits
But is my best friend
Yet makes a fool of me
Causes them to dismiss me,
Say things and add lies to my
Misdeeds
My pain I try to inflict on only one
Me
The humiliation it brings I long to shake
But I shrug it off and I say

This relation with my enemy is better
Than the ones which my heart does love
Oh, yeah!
For
If theirs be love
I choose no more of it!



{The curtains that are your eyelids close}

{She stands still then speaks out continuing the dialogue from her mind through her voice to your eyes.}




CKIARA. When, I wrote that, my mother and I had an argument, the things that she said to me were my awakening yet they cut like a razor. She wished she had crossed her legs and killed me as I was been born. That I was the most ungrateful of her children and that I was cursed! That one day she’d die and I would roam the earth and she’d not be found and I would cry out for her but never find her!!!” She sounded like a raving lunatic! I felt I had to leave, immediately! I wanted to hurt her physically! I needed peace of mind. Next thing I know…

… (Ckiara shrugs her shoulders) I can’t remember how I got there. I found myself at the Oakland bus depot. I got on the bus and headed for Los Angeles, California. When I got off the bus I had no money, but I knew my way to my great grand Aunt’s’ house. So, like red riding hood, off I went on my pedestrian journey to her place, on my way there, a colorful mural caught my eye; there were dashes of greens, gold and reds, a sun and finally, shackled hands. It was about slavery, and then I looked up, the spray painted words spoke to me…

(she deepens her voice in the way she heard words speak to her in her past). “We most look through our past to forecast our future.” “It made sense.”

CKIARA (in her normal tone) I felt like my past was still my present.
“So am I at a standstill?” I thought to myself.
I knew I had to face those fears that had haunted me for so long. That’s where the small voice got louder and I became more terrified, because I knew I had to face my fears (the monsters in my dreams) both while awake and asleep. I continued to walk, I got a glimpse of myself in a dark window I approached myself, stopped, and forced myself to look into my own eyes.”

CKIARA (shakes her negatively) I always had a hard time looking in the mirror; I mean really looking at myself not the make up I was applying, nor the eyebrows I was plucking off, or even the teeth I was brushing but into my own eyes.
I wondered why I could never look at my self directly... what was this guilt?
What was my shame?
I knew I had to engage myself, my sexual longings, my confusions and others with respect and love.
But, looking back at my past, I knew it would be difficult. Nothing in that short past could contribute to my engaging others or me with respect and love…I was still a child but not.
I felt hurt and confused, because I was told by my stepfather that white people were the rulers and really the superior ones. If ever they lost control they’d just push a button and kill the world. Then my mother would argue about his comments, but her words, showed she too thought so, for example: she’d be talking about some incident and it would be something like;”The man yelled at Sister Catherine too… And she’s white you know?”
Also in my speculation I saw how everyone would always live for the approval or to piss off whitey…. The whole purpose of their being would be to emulate middle class Caucasian values or devaluate oneself to show the white man he doesn’t influence one’s person.


{She reaches a point where there is silence both in her mind and through out her abode…recharged like a battery she carries on from where she paused}



CKIARA. I began hating non-white people actions because they were, I was told, unacceptable as far as my stepfather was concerned; they did not have the education, morals, could not stifle their emotions (he say that as weakness) or have those higher standards of the middle, if not high class Caucasian ruling class.
Then there were my other issues, my sex and sexuality, preferences, and confusion. I never saw or could emulate anyone at home as a role model, neither in the community or society …I found white people money worshippers, dry, evil and fearful, also I stereotype them all as being like my step father and I was afraid they’d blow the world away, because the world was becoming diverse. Never did I think myself inferior though, so what the hell was my stepfather talking about?
The confusion came when I read certain books recommended to me by parents, which contradicted my individual experience, first hand knowledge and conclusions. Also the self help books and biographies I read, painted a different view of the world and individuals than that of my parents. I questioned the atheism of my stepfather and my fanatically religious mother being together? Then there was my ignorance of who, how the world was ran and finally the thoughts and convictions of those close and far from me. I at least studied and took practice from their advice. Then tried on like a dress, then if it fit me correctly and looked well on me, I’d make it mine, but if not I’d put it back on the hanger and leave it for some one else who might like and want to keep the dress.

Those were the things that governed my life!
But, already, I was at least questioning the difference between what I was supposed to think, and what I really thought. My ability to analyze such things had gotten me in trouble, but it also enabled me to see more clearly what was happening to me.
In class one day, not paying attention to what was the
curriculum, but my own study, I had a revelation, and voiced it aloud, “No wonder the Puritans were always in a constant state of outrage!”
If anyone understood I don’t know? But, alone, I was awakening within myself.
… … … …

… … … … … … …
… … … ... …

{She stands and takes hold of a broom begins to sweep her hardwood floor and continues to reminisce…}


BR>
CKIARA. I knew I could be wrong and with many people telling me about how wrong I am they could be on to something?
Yet, I knew even then that I must understand the child within me if I was to truly become the woman and Goddess I knew I could be.
I knew I must not only confront the religion of my mother, but atheism, of my stepfather who raised, and sometimes tortured us all with his constant taunts, put downs, and treatment of my mother. He was a white Sandinista, his bitterness only exceeded by his love of black women. Due to the stigma that kind of personal racial preference carried, in his generation, and social class.

I think the ingrained universal belief that “white skin is superior”, led him to torture my African/Mikitu mother because in his white way he believed that he was better than her, despite, or perhaps because of, the fact that he had married her.
Actually, his thoughts at the time on black women were not unlike those of the slave masters of the past who saw them as pleasure toys and, like so many men even today, believed that pleasure was the right of the male, and theirs alone.
He was driven by always hiding his inferiority complex with a superiority front and sometimes monstrous behavior.
Yet he was the only dad I knew.
But as I became a teenager he struck me as a hypocrite and very envious.
The kind of person who if you have the ill luck to be in his family and you possess talent, beauty or anything he lacks. He will sabotage and/or berate you, or hope the worst for you. I remember as a child when I asked for a dollar. You’d ask for help only to be kicked flat down!
He’d make me feel so low it was like some dark energy tearing at my spirit until his stench of bigotry and negativity had control of me, then I’d second-guess what I do. No, one can know nor do things differently than he, because that makes you wrong and if you are right he will tear you down until you, yourself begin to self sabotage and do his job for him.






{She looks across room then rolls her eyes saying there is a loooooooong pause she looks around and resumes speaking}







CKIARA When my son was removed from my care my eyes began to open, I have never encountered so many liars, I had no Idea that the court system was not for justice but for the best attorney and what sort of an image one would portray for a judge. It’s not about truth or justice; it’s a game of wits and strategy. Who is to know and be my moral better? Are we as people truly modern? Does justice Exist? I asked myself.
I was forced to be a big girl and stop hiding behind how badly I was treated, what happened to me in my childhood I used as a shield of pity to wallow in. I was too lazy or to stubborn to have to prove my worth to them and others! It was too much effort to contribute my talents or to explore other parts of myself.

Sigh…

I also knew I would have to step out side my self and view me as they did! I had to become a member of the society I had/ and at times still have contempt for! The very establishment I had rejected for so long came into my world, it looked around and destroyed what they could not understand, yet opened a nasty horrible door which I had to enter to realize all the more I am inside and like it or not I am on the planet!



…





{YOU READER WATCH HER FACIAL EXPRESSION TURN SERIOUS AND JUST AS QUICKLY her eyes widen with despair and she - ROARS AT THE TOP OF HER LUNGS!!!}






CKIARA (starts running about the space growling and yelling).








“”







{…In the blinding light you hear a voice yell out….}

..
Hey!!!


Why can I only see yesterday?
But no tomorrow
My insights only serve me as a bringer of sorrows
While the masses follow and
I stand, look, speculate
Whether or not mine is also their fate
Life is a circle that never ends

Oh yes, and does life’s suffering ever end?
Although I bend to the lesser of the pains
There are no gains
Not of love or knowledge
Though the cuts begin to heal
The numbness feels
Life’s razors cut both ways
Men do force on the black and white
Yes, I know it’s a rainbow
I realized too early that this world’s designed
For men/boys… … …
Who like games?
Adult children with nothing but games to play?
For they hold power in the pain
Sadistic creature with forced slaves

Every living thing their foot soldier
With no respect humanity
As if life is guaranteed to them forever?
Not this one…
Maybe the next
No!

I don’t want to be a pawn!
Having nothing against luxury or glam
Just so long as it’s one’s own art, expression and appetite
Not to say to another, “You have not!”
I’m sure they are very well aware of that
Most have necessities

And few have just wants
That’s the game of man…
“I think sometimes?”

Though Mother Nature begs to differ on what’s what!
With all the pondering in my mind
I hear a voice inside

I turn down the thoughts and listen … listen
Hear it speak!
It says


{A Male voice is heard and it begins to recite}



Have you the valor to isolate
Leaving caution to the wind?
The “never mind”
To
Gossips whims?
To let the scaring begin?
Do let the scaring begin!

You’ll have to be humble
Living just bare
But always have dignity in your affairs
Let the scaring begin!BR>
Its personal history
And, if there’s refute
You know the Truth
A forget me not
When you see my scars
Let there be laughter
For that, after all, is the happily ever after”



{Your mind reader goes blank}









{She stays still for a moment and regains composure!}







CKIARA (as she gathers her thoughts). I had to understand them! So I would…or rather would not … I mean… Oh dear…I did not want to judge them wrongfully... at all really! But I made it a project to have a better understanding of the world around me! The world I was born into but never was a part of! But, now they had my son and they stole him through lies, so they could what? I got to thinking?
I drew my own conclusions; it was so they could mold my son into their image of the perfect person!
Any fool can look back at world history, and see mans pursuit for mass perfection always results in tragic ends, mass graves, cruelty, dismay, denial and genocide!
I was sad because I thought my son would be turned into someone, who limit them self and only follow what they are told!
Who secretly dream but to admit dreaming is the biggest crime they could commit! So, they hide and scoff at those who dare to try.
Will my son then live precariously through an offspring, whether the offspring is happy or not?
The end result creating a fractured spirit who also lives precariously, haunted by goals and sacrifices, surrenders and a feeling of loss expecting compensation for choices one made!
Wanting and believing that a child or wife or husband owes them something for their efforts to have the things they wanted, and then when not received with the same equation it turns to anger, vengeance and resentment! Creating a bitter soul full of repent and misery, wanting to spread the same onto others! Using his education and intelligence to harm those closest, weakest and the most trusting of him?!




Would he join those beings that feel envy when they realize that the self and the needs of one’s being, the very thing he was taught was to be ignored was truly attainable but it lives in someone else?
Then through fear, jealousy, resentment and laziness, he decides on an easy fix, a pill maybe that would damage his body then prefers to injure the being of another. Living for the sole purpose to destroy the peace within content individual/s! Permitting the chain of negativity to continue passed down from generation to generation!
CKIARA. (Pauses and tracks back her memory and returns to the present.) Kind of like my mother….What an amazing creature yet so insecure she could not work hard for her greatness. She’d rather appear to be, both my sister and mother have, it in them to soar and be what they pretend to be, because that is who they are truly! But they have to hide and be pretentious, because they’ve done misdeeds to attain admiration, cash, cars, homes and receive esteem and admiration from strangers and from the men they sold themselves to.
I prefer to be rented to several. It keeps life interesting. Yet…I’ve paid more than I’ll ever earn.
Life is a vicious circle and breaking it is hard yet not impossible.



{She sits quietly; her conclusions circle round and round in her head. Suddenly}




CKIARA (Yells out) NO!

I will fight for my son’s spirit!

I’ve always known hate, love, positive thinking and negativity did not just happen. They were nurtured and passed on!!! His/her/their and our/my story and our reason for being on the planet; each has a purpose. But it seems most human beings are comfortable with repeating the same especially the negative aspects and indulge in the same tragedies controlling through fear overcoming by means of violence. Anger and ignorance are celebrated.
There is tolerance but no understanding.



{She remains silent the Screen of your mind goes blank}



CKIARA. Now, both my loves existed only in my blood, the other a part of my soul from a past long ago. Now both just live in my heart and are always on my mind.
I craved, lusted and anything would do now so, I left and joined an Old brothel with the loveliest ladies one could meet. There I felt the true negative meaning of what people consider and the use the word "whore".




{She nods off, and then awakens; let’s give her time to come to life…She looks around and smiles at her guest. Then she begins to giggle and she resumes speaking.}




I realized as I gained experience that there’s nothing more powerful than to walk with truth even when nobody believes you.


{She remains in her, looks away with a faint smile, then turns to the direction of her mysterious guest!}


THERE IS SILENCE…










{She looks at her guest then says::::::::::::



CKIARA There are many great advantages and power women have but don’t always use it, or are ignorant of it or use it maliciously!
Women are made to believe we are not beautiful unless we look a certain way. Then we dislike ourselves and envy our fellow sisters. (gesturing with her hands) On the one hand, men have their physical strength, if intelligence or politics keep them from eating or what they need; their bodies and their strength is what they solicit; just walk or drive down any street where you might find homeless workers, undocumented immigrants or vagabonds. You drive up in your car and have them hop in to the car, to do some kind of physical labor! Sex is a physical and enjoyable labor! All though I do not condone street walking!
Men use all their natural gifts and no one gripes!
CKIARA (looking at her hands) on the other hand, some women like me are left to carry the responsibility of birth and rearing, followed by the financial burdens and nurturing a child needs. Needless to say nature balanced it out by making men physically strong and women sexually irresistible to heterosexual and bisexual men.
Yet only a small number of women can actually do sex work, when used with a little empathy, understanding that men have a need for it and I don’t mean wham bang here's your money mamma. Some times it’s just for company, a soft feminine presence, or a dominating some what vicious vixen ordering and manipulating his every thought and move!


CKIARA (putting her hands together) that the genders, now I realize are learning from each other they are not so different.
Men like women are great in bed when trying to conquer, once done…their true colors come out and pleasing you is not the object anymore. That gets dull and we look for other thrills.
It all boils down to being loved, feeling admired, sex is a huge part of all of us, but not the all to the all, yet not of no importance.


{She looks at her guest in the dark corner of the room.}




Just think if one could stop judging and take the stigma and shame out of the sex profession, so many would come forward against human trafficking and things of that nature! Shame silences and creates chaos, fear of discovery and sometimes death. It would be a wonderful planet if you let me be and I let you be you and find some kind of middle once on common ground.


CKIARA (She sighs… Suddenly she stands on a chair and addresses her possessions). On to all species, god gave vaginas and penises, each adult person responsible for his or her own genitalia. Not a community property for everyone else to comment on or make plans for. One should mind one’s own shit! It will help prevent venereal diseases and social injustices.



In my minds eye and personal opinion, we all have our qualities and our worthlessness. It’s what makes us human? I think alot of societies forget about truth, the here and now, individuality, humanity and evolution.
Most practice prehistoric rituals, thoughts, practices; customs that are not geared towards understanding, growth and most of all Love but punishment, fear, ignorance of the self and others, loathing and aspire to a divinity that is harsh and unnatural and impossible inside the human body, emotions.



{Ckiara steps down from the chair and continues her address. She looks across the room, the television speaks but there is no response from the intended.}




CKIARA (while envisioning her thoughts, smiles and her tone is dreamy). I see our place in nature as not superior, but caretakers a part of all that is on and in the earth, along with our own and personal individuality. Instead it is forgotten, so forgotten and hidden that it’s lost. I live for the approval of oth