The Toil of the lobster wheels

Young Mira was born in a middle class family.

Her friend Ira was born with a silver spoon in her mouth.

The father was into fish trawling.

“How do you earn a living?” Mira asked Ira one day.

” I don’t but my father does. We’re into fish trawling.”

“Which means?”

“You got to see it? Do you like life or death?” Ira asked Mira.

Unsure Mira stood like every other pony tail girl in confusion.

“Never mind. We will see what you like.” Ira smiled and patted her only friend.

Mira’s father was a bank teller and didn’t have a lot of money but he did take occassional bribes from people who needed some help he could render.

The money afforded Mira’s schooling fees and maintenance.

On a decided date, both Mira and Ira meet each other, a holiday and a nice summer morning.

“Come, we must hurry or else we will miss the ride.”

Mira held Ira who was now finishing her line as to how they could miss the boat. Up on it, and as the boat began moving, Mira could smell the petrol, a smell she was addicted to and the salt from the air filled her nostrils too.

After almost 15 minutes both reached their destination. Back in the boat, Ira was treated like a princess by those around. The attention at first seemed like it could be something Mira could grow upto live and acquire one day.

But then they descended and soon enough the trawler halted like it was out in the ocean and came back within half an hour of their arrival.

Ira beckoned Mira and they took their place among people with different kinds of instruments with them.

“What are these things for?” She didn’t even know the names of these shiny glimmering weapon like objects made of steel and iron.

But then they opened their backyard and from the trawling boat they could see thousands of sea creatures gulping and gasping for breath.

The worst followed when she saw how they just removed a few and discarded all else that got taken by some others. The pain of these creatures move Mira and what she could utter were just these words smeared in her tears.

“Ohh God, what have we done to ourselves?”

She was almost 12 and the tears didn’t stop flowing.

She looked at Ira with a certain kind of madness in her eyes.

“So you love life and not death, it seems.” Ira was offended slightly at the show of tears.

“Yes, well, it seems so.” Mira was still trying to prevent her nose from flowing.

“Then know you’d be killed one day this way and the worst part is, you wouldn’t be even those dead ones that we keep but instead those that we discard.”

Mira ran back to the boat.

Ira wouldn’t leave her.

She ran back.

“What are you so ashamed of, huh, you too eat of this money.”

“Yes, in fact, my father pays your father every month for passing our bills and your father quiet enjoys the show when he comes to pick the money every month, you see.”

Mira looked white as though stuck by the lightning.

She ran back towards the boat.

Ira followed.

“There is no way out of this wretched place Mira. The only true way is death.”

Mira stopped.

“You know what, my mum says our bad deeds bring us back here and we become what we kill. What we make to suffer, what we breed and what we die for. You’ll come back as a fish in your father’s trawler and so will my father.”

Ira smiled and said, “so will you, your father pays for your school with our money.” She screamed loud, her shrieking voice was ricocheting like a bullet and echoing in every corner of the island as though and then she broke into a smile, equally shrieking and loud.

“There is no way out.”

“There is.” Mira fought back

“I will find it.”