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LONE STAR Ten Years of Truthspeak 1996-2006 AMERICAN DREAMS LIONEL ROLFE, United States G21 AFRICA MPHUTHUMI NTABENI, South Africa G21 AFRICA X.N. IRAKI, United States G21 ASIA KIM CARTER, Thailand G21 FICTION CYNTHIA JELE, United Kingdom JOIN OUR MAILING LIST. It contains more jokes than not. RECOMMENDED DAILY REQUIREMENT GLOBAL WATER FOUNDATION, United States SMOKE & MIRRORS ROD AMIS, G21 World HQ VOX POPULI YOU, The World THE PREVIOUS EDITION MEET THE G-CREW! These are the people behind this jam-band every week. HOME TABLE OF CONTENTS & BACK ISSUES BECOME A SPONSOR OF THE WORLD'S MAGAZINE.
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G21 FICTION - THE GOOD NANNY (CONCLUSION): New South African writer CYNTHIA JELE debuts with a piece on the circumstances of foreign-born nannies in the United States.".... A t that moment she realizes it's over; she's going to jail. Nothing Nana says will save her. She has never been to prison, but knows of its ugliness: the beatings, rape, mental insanity, and self-destruction. She cries with shame. She's a common criminal now."
"Ma'am, are you okay?"
Cynthia Jele She parts her eyes open, stares listlessly around. It is a different officer speaking to her. Where did he come from? Was he there the entire time?
"As I was saying, you can leave the car here. Somebody can pick it up later."
She sees Nana pulling out Dylan's booster seat from the Halter's minivan and securing it into hers. She doesn't recall giving her the keys.
"I have to go with the police for a little bit. Nana will take care of you. Be good for her. I'll see you later, okay?" she tells the children.
Sara refuses to let go of her hand."Why?" she asks in her pouty way.
"Because I have to fill out important forms at the station. Why don't you be a good girl and go with Nana?"
It takes five minutes of bargaining, of promises she knows she won't keep to get the child to go with her grandmother.
Nana swears to sort out the confusion as soon as she gets home. She will call her lawyer, she says. They will get her out of there before the end of the day.
She watches them drive off, Sara waves at her until the car is out of sight. One of the sergeants opens the back door for her. They don't handcuff her, and she's grateful. She doesn't look back at the pool to witness the stares. In the car, one of the officers reads her Miranda rights.
*****At the police station they take down her information again, finger prints, photograph, and her wallet. The department shows no signs of action - no drunkards resisting fingerprinting or prostitutes flirting with officers. She lets out a deep breath.
A female officer introduces herself as Lieutenant Myers. She leads Martha to a windowless room with glass on one side of the wall, two armless chairs and a wooden table. She recognizes the room as the infamous interrogation room; she wonders if Sergeant Cooper is going to storm in, demand answers. Lieutenant Myers asks her if she has a lawyer or if she will need a state's representative. She tells her she has one, and the lawyer has been contacted. She has seen enough police movies and television dramas to recognize that individuals without lawyers get slammed on the tables and punched in the stomach.
"Okay then, I will let you know when your lawyer gets here."
The lieutenant offers her a glass of water, but she knows she won't be able to swallow. She declines politely. She sits facing the empty walls. She is terrified to look at the glass wall to her left.
*****Lieutenant Myers' voice announcing the presence of her attorney startles her. A tall gentleman in his fifties, dressed in golf gear and showing signs of recent sunburn, greets her warmly. His name is Bernard Griffin. He is a good friend of Mrs. Dayton (Nana). He has gotten the report from the police but needs to hear her account as well.
"There is good and bad news, Martha," he says when she's finished talking. "The bad news is that we won't be able to see a judge and get your arraignment until Monday morning. The good news is this is a misdemeanor case. Since you have no prior convictions, and the Halters are likely won't be pressing charges, the case will probably be dismissed. The worst that can happen is doing community service. No jail time."
He adds that she should not say anymore to anyone without talking to him first. When he's done, he touches she shoulder and tells her to hang in there.
*****She follows Lieutenant Myers down a florescent lit hallway through a dozen half-empty cells. Most of the occupants are napping; the few that are reading or writing glance in her direction. Some smile, most stare without interest. No one looks malicious or murderous.
At the last empty cell, the officer inserts a key, and slides the bar-door open. She tells her to make herself comfortable. She knows about her case; she shouldn't worry. She'll be out of there in no time.
The cell has two narrow beds, low to the ground, each covered with a thin thermal blanket. A small locker separates them. She sits on the bed closest to the door. She closes her eyes and tries to make sense of everything. She retraces her day from the time her alarm clock went off at six, fed the children Honey Nut Cheerios, took them to the park where she watched Dylan chase after a butterfly, played Barbie with Sara while her brother took a nap, packed the pool bag and finally to the pool. Everything up to that point is vivid in her mind, what happened afterwards is simply a blur.
*****The Halters come to see her on Saturday morning soon after they get in from Florida. Mrs. Halter cries and apologizes throughout the visit. They have spoken to Mr. Griffin and will work with him until she's out of there. The children miss her; Sara is shaken and asks why she's still at the police station.
"How is it in here? Are they treating you right?" Mr. Halter asks with concern in his voice.
"It isn't too bad," she says choking back the tears. "The officers are kind. I got to meet the other women last night at dinner. Keisha, my cell mate, was brought in around midnight for DUI. She's nice."
"That's good, Martha," Mr. Halter says. His eyes do not meet hers.
"I brought you some underwear. What about cosmetics, do you need some?" Mrs. Halter asks between sobs.
"No, they've provided us with supplies: soap, toothpaste, and toothbrush. Don't worry about me, I'll be fine."
She spends most of the weekend in her cell sitting on the edge of her bed or in the common room down the corridor watching reruns of old television shows. She is allowed two hours outside and another to use the small library.
*****On Monday morning, Mr. Griffin tells her the judge will hear her case in two hours. He's brought her a change of clothes and will meet her in court. Before he leaves, she asks him about her status, her illegal status in the country and whether it will have any effect on her case. He hopes not, he says, he certainly hopes it doesn't come up.
He is outside the courthouse, pacing the steps and frantically looking at his watch when she arrives in the police van with other detainees who have a court date today. He sees the van and rushes towards it. He has a worried look on his face. When she gets off, he walks with her towards the courthouse entrance. He doesn't say anything.
The courtroom is quiet when they enter. She sees the Halters in the second row; they wave at her. The judge, an eagle-faced woman with shoulder length salt and pepper hair enters the room. She calls the first case, a petty theft case, and when she addresses the accused, a middle-aged pudgy woman with a green cobra tattoo on her left shoulder, she speaks with the voice a mother uses to ground her children, not the cynical and snappy tone common to daytime television judges.
When her name is called, she jumps out of the seat, but doesn't know what to do. Mr. Griffin motions her to move forward.
The judge reads the police report and asks Mr. Griffin questions. It is difficult for her to articulate what is being passed; her mind is buzzing with thoughts. She is regretful for what happened to Dylan and to the Halters, the trouble she has put them through. She shouldn't have left the children by themselves, not even for a minute. She is a good person, a good mother and wife, and until three days ago, a good nanny. She looks up at this unsmiling woman and wonders what she'll do with her .
"Miss, are you aware of the charges brought against you?" the judge asks. Her eyes are piercing but have no malice.
"Yes, Ma'am."
Martha's stomach flutters, her throat tightens. She can feel her tear ducts filling. The judge explains the gravity of child neglect and child endangerment and the newly passed laws governing such offenses. When she's done, she sets the bond at $500, and orders a court appearance in two weeks. Mr. Halter approaches Mr. Griffin, he will pay the bond. No problem.
But there is a problem with her bond. She is an illegal immigrant and a flight risk. The state can't take a chance, the officer handling her bail explains. She knows what this means, so does Mr. Griffin. Her heart doesn't race at the thought of what lies ahead. Her head doesn't spin. Her eyes don't well with tears. She looks at Mr. Griffin, and with calm, tells him she's ready for whatever outcome.
*****She spends four weeks at the detention center. The new development, the immigration violation charges, has made her case quite intricate. She has committed a federal offence; the penalties are harsh. She watches other detainees come and go. Some are released back to the society, and others shipped to a place she imagines as Hell.
She's now on the first name basis with the police officers: Dora, Anita, and Lucy. Dora brings her a ten dollar phone card. She calls her husband and tells him she's coming home soon. He doesn't ask her questions, he never does, and that is the reason she loves him.
"The girls will be happy, we miss you," he says, and break downs.
The Halters visit her every day. None of her nanny friends have been to see her, but they send with the Halters her favorite dishes: from Maria, spicy chicken fajitas; Anna, Polish sausage and soft perogies; and Sandra, cepelinai. Mrs. Halter tells her they've all been to the house to inquire about her.
"They're frightened to visit, in case they get into trouble," she whispers to her.
"Tell them I understand."
She has made peace with all that has happened; God intended for it to end like this. She has given up on questioning the order of the universe, the order of events that shape one's life. She is less burdened now. Her sleep is peaceful, free of nightmares that used to send her screaming in the middle of the night, infuriating her cell mates. The future doesn't look bleak for her. The house is complete, and her husband's trucking business is profitable.
*****On the day of her hearing a representative from her country's government is there to observe. He is annoyed by the case. He has seen many situations like hers, he says, and can't comprehend why people go to such extremes to come to this country. Our country isn't so bad.
"Look at you, a qualified teacher," he exclaims. "And what are you here? A maid, a common household help. Where is the dignity in that?"
She agrees with everything this man says, doesn't dare argue with him. She can't risk provoking him, in case he makes things difficult for her. Inside she rages at his ignorance. What does this pompous man in his dry-cleaned suit, with a job that comes with benefits, a job he obtained not because of his stellar qualifications but rather of his connections through marriage, knows about dignity?
The same woman judge presides over her case. Her judgment is expected: 200 hours of community service and three years on probation. But she will not serve either of the sentences - she must leave the country immediately and may not return for fifteen years.
The government man says he will arrange for her plane ticket, though he warns that such things take a long time to process. The Halters offer to pay for her fare; they cannot bear to see her locked up for another day.
On the day of her departure, she bids a teary farewell to the officers and leaves for the airport accompanied by Mr. Griffin. The Halters, with Sara and Dylan, Nana, Maria and Anna gather to see her off. She spends an hour before her plane departs eating hamburgers and French fries, laughing and taking pictures. The children fuss and fight over her, both want to sit on her lap, both vie for her attention.
CYNTHIA JELE is an aspiring South African writer who hopes one day to write well enough to be paid in cash, and not in contributory copies, for her efforts. Cynthia lived in the US for many years, first as an au pair (a fancy name for nanny), and later as a student in Illinois. She currently lives in London, but is returning permanently to her home country at the end of this year where she will assume responsibilities of?being a grown up. Her works of fiction have appeared in the Prairie Light Review, a college literary review.? Cynthia has two projects in the pipeline, a self-published guide titled, 'So You Wanna be an Au Pair in the USA: What Your Agency Will Never Tell', and an untitled and unfinished women's contemporary novel. This is her first piece for The World's Magazine.
© 2006, GENERATOR 21.
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