Friday, March 18, 2016

A Story From the Life of Sharon R. Ghostwritten by Asvena S.

Photo courtesy Britannica Image Quest
A Story From the Life of Sharon R.
Ghostwritten by Asvena S.


Awake


Nothing wakes me up more than a change in perspective. Not an alarm, not even a cup of coffee. The one thing that did wake me up, the one thing that opened my eyes, was a story. A story that changed everything I once knew.


***
I remember the towering skyscrapers. The shimmering ocean nearby. The clamorous herds of people. The skyline gleaming in the morning sun. The city of Berkeley shined with its refreshing looks. It had only been about two months since I moved here, but I already loved everything about the fast-paced city; everyday, I experienced something that changed my life, whether it was the civil rights protests surrounding the streets, or a new cafe by my apartment.


My fingers tapped on the steering wheel as I pulled into the employees’ parking lot of the lavish, modern building. When I walked in, the striking gold banner greeted me. Welcome to Peralta Hospital! A few of my coworkers passed by.


“Good morning!” I said enthusiastically. Realizing that I was a bit late, I scurried to the nurse’s room and grabbed my clipboard.


Throughout the day, I ran back and forth, from helping in the recovery room and intensive care, to retrieving files. As the day went on, my energy drained bit by bit.
“Sharon, you’ve been running around for half the day! Mellow out a little! It’s already five o’clock, take a break. I’ll cover for ya,” A coworker told me. Exasperated, I smiled and agreed. When I went into the break room, my body immediately leaned back into a chair and I closed my eyes. On the television, I heard the assertive voices of the news anchors, but what alerted me was the hum of the coffee machine. I looked up, and saw a slender woman with glasses taking a coffee mug from the cupboard.


“Miko! What’s shakin’!” I shouted. She turned, and I smiled and waved her over. Miko brought two coffee mugs over to the table, and sets one in front of me. I snatched the coffee like a seagull desperate for a french fry on the beach. I took a long sip of the steaming coffee, and sighed. I was finally able to relax. “Thanks, Miko.” She laughed. Thanks to the coffee, I went back to my regular upbeat self. We prattled on about our day, until the news anchors halted our conversation. Miko stared at the television, and raised the volume of the TV.


“Today is Pearl Harbor Remembrance Day,” one of the news anchors stated. “30 years ago, Japanese fighter planes attacked Pearl Harbor, the American naval base near Honolulu, Hawaii. Nearly 20 American naval vessels and over 300 airplanes were destroyed, and 2,000 American soldiers and sailors died in the attack. Today, we commemorate the fallen at Pearl Harbor.” Their charismatic voices continued as I watched and drank my coffee.  Meanwhile, Miko was wide-eyed and seemed lost in thought.


“Miko, are you alright? What’s bugging ya?” I touched her shoulder and she snapped back into reality and turned to me.


“Oh, yes, I’m all right. Just, the Pearl Harbor Day clip on the news, uh, brought back some memories.” She stared into her mug.


“You can always tell me if you want! Maybe that’ll help, to tell someone,” I suggested. It was strange to see Miko’s composed and intellectual manner disappear, but I tried not to press the matter. As I spoke, Miko fiddled with the hem of her shirt. She looked at me, about to speak, then hesitated.


“When I was little, my family and I, we were in these internment camps during World War II,” she started. My eyes widened. “Our parents were forced to sell their business, and then we had to move to a place we didn’t even know, with thousands of people, who were all just as lost as I was. It was…terrifying, especially because I was so young. Armed guards were everywhere, and they made sure that no one tried to escape. When they took our family to the camps, they said they were protecting us, but it felt more like they wanted to attack us.” She paused, and the silence resonated as her story sunk in.


“We were all behind a surrounding wire fence; elders, adults, children. Trapped. And there was nothing we could do. And it was all because the U.S. government didn’t trust us.” Miko took a deep breath, and tears welled up in her eyes. She gave a small and solemn smile.


I sat there, shocked. I didn’t know how to feel. I felt like I could have thrown my coffee mug at the wall. I felt like I could have sobbed my eyes out. How could I have been so oblivious to the prejudice here? Was this what our country is supposed to stand for?


“I.. I.. I’m so sorry, Miko. I don’t know what to say. But, thank you, for telling me,” I said quietly. I hugged her tightly, and soon, a doctor came in to ask for help. I took our coffee mugs, but the handle on the mugs shattered when I quickly dropped them in the sink.
***
Flustered, I jumbled up the files and shove them into the cabinets. Anger overwhelmed me. My vision of America’s righteousness and virtue was wrong. The injustice and the discrimination of Miko’s past went through my mind over and over.


Later, I drove back to my apartment in silence. The radio lulled on, and I slammed the off button. Her story played back in my head. I didn’t know how blind I was to the unjustifiable struggles of people in this country, let alone my own friend’s struggles.


I got home and slammed the door. The clock read 11:00 pm, so I decided to go to bed. I laid down and tried to fall asleep, but my brain was awake and stirring. My eyes stared at the ceiling, lost in thought. The more I thought about Miko’s story, the more everything in Berkeley started to click. Berkeley wasn’t just new in appearance, but the ideas and experiences were new as well. I no longer just saw the skyscrapers and busy people, but I saw the protests for equality outside: their anger, their demands, their outrage. I had to help change this country’s perspective, just like those people who stand outside all day for justice. I had to try to stand up for those who couldn’t, like Miko and her family. My eyes finally opened, and now I could finally see that the prejudice and intolerance in America had to stop. With the rush of my indignation, I was finally awake.