St. Lucia to America
Posted: Monday, November 09, 2009
by Arnold Henry
Hanging On To My Dreams
This Article was taken from my manuscript. I'm currently working on a book,
"Hanging on to my Dreams - An Autobiography by Arnold Henry" Visit My Website for more info.
Chapter 15
"Ding Dong!" The pilot announced, "Please fasten your seatbelt for arrival to Philadelphia Airport. The local time is 8:30 p.m." I thought,
"Whoa, we are about to land already." As I yawned and stretched my arms, I couldn't believe I slept for the entire flight. I quickly looked out the window in amazement of the number of lights shining from miles away. The land surface seemed like it was never ending. There was no sea-water in site. I looked on my lap and noticed two slips of paper that looked like information for the U.S. Customs and Immigration Officers. It looked like important information so I quickly filled in the blanks before the plane landed.
Finally I stepped foot on American grounds. I took in a deep breath and released as if I smelled victory. The airport was huge compared to what I'm used to. It felt like I was at a concert by the number of people running around. I've never seen so many diversity of race in one place before. I followed a sign that read, visitors/U.S. Immigration. At the front of the line, I met an officer that asked for my documents such as my I-20, letter of acceptance, my student visa and the two pieces of paper I filled out on the plane. It was a scary moment because the officer was strapped with a gun to his waist and looked so serious. It felt even scarier when he took my picture and scanned my finger-prints. I had no clue what he was doing. I seen the officer, sign some papers, looked at his computer, typed in some information, opened and stamped my passport then stapled a piece of paper near my student visa. He gave me back my I-20, letter of acceptance and my passport. Just like that, I was on my way. It didn't seem that scary after all.
I followed a signed that said, Luggage/Pick-Up, and at the same time searching for Jonathan. Shortly, I bounced into Jonathan who looked like he was in a rush. He detour my route and said that I should follow him. I picked up my walking pace to keep up. I had no clue what he was doing. I thought I had to pick up my bag then get on the next flight. As we paced and dodge others, he asked me,
"How was your flight?"
"Good."
"Where we going?" I asked curiously.
"Boy, if you don't hurry up, you're going to miss your next flight."
"What about my bags?" He smirked.
"Don't worry. You will pick it up when you arrive at Washington, D.C."
"Oh." I must have seen Jonathan for five minutes and I was already on another flight to Dulles Airport. I was no longer excited; I was jet lagged. About less than two hours later I arrived at Dulles Airport. I was so tired that I was only thinking of a bed. After picking up my luggage, I noticed a Caucasian man standing outside with my name written on a piece of cardboard. I instantly remembered he was my driver.
Finally, I arrived at Massanutten Military Academy, Woodstock, Virginia. Two hours ride in a car? I thought we were in a different country when the car made the last stop. The driver pulled up in front of a tall brick building near a light pole. It was hard to see through the darkness but it seemed like only trees and bushes were in sight. I gazed at my watch with my half-opened eyes to realize it was three hours past my usual midnight bedtime. The cab driver assisted me with my luggage. I followed him to an open door where I met a short Caucasian male dressed up like an American soldier. My initial thought was, "Why is this young guy up so late wearing a uniform as if he was at an Independence parade?" I greeted them with a handshake, "Arnold Henry."
"Colonel Reis." He replied. I thought, "Who names their child Colonel?" I noticed he wrote my name down on some book as if he was checking me in. Shortly, he gave me some immediate rules I had to abide by,
"You need to cut your hair, shave your facial hair, no civilize clothing and no jewelry. Do you understand?"
"Um, yeah." I answered.
"Yes Sir." Recommended Colonel Reis. It was like so early in the morning and this guy I didn't even knew tried to discipline me. I just went with the flow and corrected myself,
"Yes, Sir!"
After an understanding from Colonel Reis, he assisted me with my luggage and directed me to my bedroom. By then I just wanted to sleep. My bedroom was about three floors above the ground floor. I was surprised that the bedroom I slept in was air-conditioned. The hallways were quiet. Everyone was fast asleep. There were older men dressed up in army gears securing the facilities. I got in my bedroom and found an already asleep roommate at the bottom of the bunk-bed. I placed my bags on the dresser and jump on the top of bunk of the bed. I dozed off.
I jumped out of my bed searching for the culprit who woke me up. It seemed like someone was playing games. There was a loud annoying sound coming from a speaker right outside my bedroom door. I checked my watch. It was 5:45 a.m. Almost two hours later. I was so upset. My roommate was wide awake dressed the same way as Colonel Reis. He was the first Africa-American I met at the school. I realized I was out of place with the way I was dressed. I was searching for answers,
"Wha go-ing on?"
"What?" asked my roommate as he awaited for me to repeat myself.
"What's going on?" I repeated but this time I spoke slower and pronounced my words better.
"Oh! We gotta get ready dawg."
"Ready?"
"Yeah. We got breakfast." I thought,
"I am awake so early for breakfast?" I soon came back to my senses and realized that I was at a military school. I introduced myself to my roommate. Then he replied,
"Antoine Mayhand." Suddenly the same sound came out blasting from the speaker. Oh, it was so annoying.
"We have to go." Antoine advised me. It looked very chaotic outside the bedroom. There were more guys dressed up like Antoine, running towards the same direction. Everything looked so out of the ordinary. I felt like an outsider. The sound went off one more time and soon I was jogging my way outside the building to a gathering of possibly every student at the school. They were all dressed alike with the same color shirt and pants, black dress shoes and an awkward shaped hat. This was a new environment and I wasn't prepared for it. It seemed like the formation was divided up into groups. Every group had their own leaders standing at the front. These leaders made organization and roll calls within the groups. I followed Antoine in a group and stand next to him.
"Stand at ease." Antoine whispered in my ear.
"Stand at what?" I asked.
"Just do everything I'm doing dawg." I adjusted my position by shifting my feet shoulder width apart, placed my hands behind my back and looked straight ahead. I noticed the guys and I in the group looked older. There were only about twelve of us in the group. I soon figured these were the rest of my teammates. I noticed only two Caucasian males in my group.
Facing us, about thirty meters away was Colonel Reis. He seemed like the leader of the entire formation. With him were about three other males and a female. Colonel Reis shouted,
"Company!" Our leader standing in front of our formation repeated the same thing,
"Company!"
"Attention!" shouted Colonel Reis.
"Spit Shine From head to toe." Yelled everyone except for me. I surprisingly jumped. Instantaneously everyone stood at attention by bring their feet together then placing their hands to the side. There weren't any movements. I followed their procedures a few seconds later. Colonel Reis shouted once more,
"Company! Right Face!" Everyone maneuver to the right facing an American flag which was attached to the bottom of a pole held by two guys. "Represent arms!" Everyone place their right hand just near their eyes. Suddenly music from the speakers was playing and at the same time the American flag was raised. When the flag reached its peak on the pole, the music stopped and Colonel Reis shouted, "Order arms!" Everyone brought their hands back to their sides. Colonel Reis and his associates walked up to the very front of the formation then said, "Forward match!" The entire formation started matching forward with instructional steps being called in a musical manner, "Left, right, right, right left, left, right, right, right left." This was a learning experience for me and I picked up very quickly, although my steps were off. I had plenty of near falls to the destination.
We arrived at the cafeteria in an orderly manner and matched inside. We weren't allowed to sit down until everyone walked in. Once everyone was inside, we said a prayer and continued to remain standing until everyone at my table had gotten their plate of food and drink. When everyone got at the table we sat down together but there were more rules. Since my teammates and I were all new to the academy, we were considered to be cadets. We had to sit at the edge of our chairs with our backs upright and away from the back of the chair. We were only allowed to eat our food in what they called square meals. Basically, we raised our food from our plate or our drinks with our hands vertically then brought the food or drinks to our mouth horizontally and vice versa. We weren't able to talk. If we were caught disobeying the order, we would get yelled at. We had to earn our strips for us to be able to eat normally by passing a test. When breakfast was over we formed our formation and walked as a unit back to our dormitories.
Back at the dorms, I had a better chance to introduce myself to the rest of my teammates. We all lived on the same floor. They all seemed cool. I even met someone from the Bahamas. It was great to know I wasn't the only island boy.
I had a lot of catching up to do. I felt so out of place. After I unpacked my stuff, I asked someone where I was able to get a haircut. My teammate suggested the school's barber shop. When I heard the school's barber was a woman, I was quick to say hell no. Luckily, one of my teammates had his own clippers so he cut my hair. It was so sad to see my hair gone after 4 years of growing it. I saved every strand of my hair in a black plastic bag. Next, I shaved my facial hair with a razor blade; something I had to get use to. The school provided us with uniforms. I just had to go to the school's tailor, get my measurements and I was handed all the necessary uniforms for all the different occasions.
Later on that evening, I met Coach Kreutzer for the first time. My other teammates called him Coach K so I rolled with that name. Coach K was an older Caucasian man with white hair that always greeted someone with a big smile. He made me feel really welcome from our conversation. I also met our assistant coach, Coach Phillip. Coach Phillip was also a Caucasian man but a few years younger than Coach K. Coach Phillip was very encouraging and respected because when he spoke to us individually, we felt like he had a lot of compassion and love for the game of basketball. Coach K didn't live on-campus but Coach Phillip lived on the exact same floor as us. He checked up on us on a regular.
I expected the military to be tough times but I realized it was beyond my expectations. We were handed a yellow book that contained all the rules and regulations. We were supposed to know everything on the book in order for us to be given a higher rank, for example, private first class, sergeant, captains, etc. I took and passed the test during my first week at the school. A test score of 90% or more was the passing mark. I scored 98%. With the higher ranks we were given the same privilege as the rest of the student mass such as, eating normal, talking while at the dinner table, being able to go out during scheduled times, and so on.
During the weekdays, everyday felt like the previous day. Nothing exciting or nothing changed. My daily routines were the following. Wake-up calls at 5:45 a.m. in preparation for breakfast. When we got back to our rooms, we had chores. Every room had to remain sparkling clean. My classes started at 8 a.m. I had four classes: ESL- English Standard Language, S.A.T. Prep, Algebra One and L.E.T.-a military course. Lunch was at 11:45 a.m. Individual work-outs such as shoot-around or weightlifting was at 1:30 p.m. At 4:00 p.m. I met at the library for study hall. My last meal was at 6:00 p.m. I never had three meals a day. Finally, from 7:30 p.m. to 9:30 p.m. I had basketball practice. At 10:00 p.m. was the last time to hear any kind of music that came out of the speakers. This was also known as lights-out which means, you better be asleep but I never fell asleep on time.
Boredom existed throughout the day. The only times I felt extremely happy was at basketball workouts and practice.
The very first time I stepped foot on the wooden floor I instantly fell in love with indoor basketball courts. It was just liked I imagined it to be from the images on television; smooth, safer and more presentable. During the daytime my basketball team and I met for individual sessions. We spent about an hour weightlifting, then the next hour working on skills. Like always, I was one of the strongest players on my team. The weight room was equipped with machines I've never seen. It felt like home for me.
During my first two weeks at the school, often I felt betrayed by my teammates. They weren't being a supportive cast. Many times I overheard bad conversations about me, "Dis nigga sucks!" Their attitudes were dreadful. At times I felt like they were all against me. I tried my best to dodge myself from embarrassments and laughter by limiting myself from stupid mistakes. I had a very hard time being accepted. My basketball skills weren't up to their standards. My culture was different. It was difficult to reason with my teammates because of their level of maturity. These were some reasons were why I wished I played American high-school basketball. At these times I had no one to talk to but myself and God.
There were many times I felt frustrated. There were many times I felt home sick. There were many lonely nights I stayed up crying. It was hard to sleep. I worried many occasions whether or not I could survive this environment. No one understood me. There was a cultural barrier. At the beginning, everyone seemed cool and friendly but as time passed we got so comfortable that we lost every respect for each other. When that happened, I was looked at as a big joke. The number one thing I despite was when someone disrespected the way I spoke.
"Speak English. No one ever understands what you're saying." After laughter from the audience, that's all anyone said that started a fuse to my fire. I was like a ticking time bomb ready to explode. I spoke English language my entire life but the Americans thought I wasn't because of my St. Lucian accent. I became very angry. I always had to defend myself. It was like a hopeless case too because they never stopped teasing me. I kept my distance. I decreased my communication with them to save myself the tortures. I mainly spoke to Parysh Munroe, my teammate from the islands of the Bahamas. Even though Parysh lived in Florida for a while, he represented his Caribbean background with pride. We had better communications. He was skilful enough to change his accent from Caribbean to American. I had a difficult time adjusting.
I constantly reminded myself, "I came to America for a better life for myself and my family." It would be a huge disappointment to be kicked out of school for fighting. Thoughts of my mother made me stronger and gave me will to continue.
One month later, I received my first letter from my mother. I was overwhelmed from the content of the letter. I cried big water when I read my younger brother shared tears the day I departed St. Lucia. I was touched. I missed my family and Ameina. The military made it harder because of the lack of freedom.
Every day I looked forward to practices with Coach K and Coach Phillip. I was full of energy. I made myself coachable. I wanted to become a great player. I felt like there was so much for me to learn because I was introduced to a different system. Even though I made silly mistake during practices, I made sure I learned from it. I had a strong mentality. I always wanted to work. I felt like it was never enough so I pushed myself to the limit every day. I was never satisfied with my performances, whether I had a good or bad practice. There was so much I wanted to work on like my shooting skills, free-throw percentage, post moves and my defense.
In America, there was a big difference with basketball organization and structure. American basketball was more organized, business-like and there were more scheduled games. Coach K introduced me to set offensive and defensive plays. I understood a higher level of basketball. After all, the point guards I watched on television weren't throwing up gang signs. They were only signaling a play designed by their coaches. Free shoes? Wow, I was surprised when we got a pair of Nike Shox sponsored by the real Nike Company. We were also given free practice gears that we never had to wash. We had a manager to wash our basketball gears. I loved the basketball life.
It wasn't easy for me to adjust into the new system though. Gradually I improved. I had a strong and pushy work ethic. My teammates hated on me because they felt I showed-off during practices. I got hated on because I joined the punishment of two of my teammates, who had to run extra after practice, for missing class. I wanted to go hard every practice. I wanted to be better. I aimed for perfection, hoping to be the best. Every opportunity I had to become better, I jumped for it. I didn't care who was watching me.
Sometimes I felt like the military school got way out-of-hands. They were taking things too serious. I understood it was a military school, and yes, I was expecting disciplinary acts but it was too extreme. There were lacking fun activities. Maybe they were preparing the students for war against Osama Bin Laden. I thought that's Americans procedures to prepare their soldiers. I was wrong. I learned most of the students were bad, either did drugs, weren't going to public school, respectful to their parents, flunking class, etc. The military school was sort of like a boot camp. The military was supervised by real ex militant soldiers of real war. They ensured the school ran smoothly. Our post graduate men's basketball program was a different case but they didn't treat us special. We were all treated equally. There was a lack of consideration though.
One Sunday morning I woke up sick with a terrible headache and a fever. I was having hot and cold flashes. I got in trouble because I showed up to formation wearing my jacket when we weren't allowed to. They demanded I removed it so I disobeyed their orders then slept the entire day. If no one understood I was sick, I just ignored everyone. I missed my first basketball practice. The next day I was still sick. I missed formation and breakfast. One of my teammates advised me I would get in trouble if I missed another formation. An officer came to my room with no sympathy. His facial expression was ugly.
"Why did you miss breakfast?" He asked.
"I'm really sick." I muttered.
"Well you need to get off the bed now."
"Huh?" I thought this was a joke so I just ignored his statement. He was still standing there waiting on me.
"Get off the bed or I will be force to remove you." I got so upset that I cursed him out so loud. I only made my headaches worse. I didn't even remember what I said nor did he understood what I was saying. That was the only time I didn't care if the Americans understood my English. I got in trouble.
Whenever someone got in trouble, they were awarded a number of hours. Hours were worked out by marching with a rifle gun during scheduled times or doing community service. Marching with the rifle was never easy. Every sixty minutes of marching decreased my number of hours left. If anyone had hours they weren't allowed to leave campus over the weekends. I hated doing hours but I got rid of it when I found out coach was going to visit North Carolina for the weekend....
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More commentsHi Arnold. Your article came up as one of the suggested reading in the Reader's Club, so here I am again commenting on your article. Best of luck to you. ~Nenita~lol ok thanks :)
Hi Arnold,It looks like you've got the writing bug. Good job! Welcome to SearchWarp!Best,MarkThanks Mark...I appreciate it....I hope you like what I have to offer...I will check out your stuff
Great article, Arnold!I admire your fortitude. While this experience is tough, at time unfair and seemingly cruel, hang in there. (By the way, next time you are sick, go to Sick Bay.)Welcome to SearchWarp, keep writing, and I look forward to Part 2.Thank You very much Nancy :) It was tough times....There's even tougher times coming up.....Hence the reason I'm working on this book :) There's a message I want to send...I appreciate your read...thanks
Hi Arnold great article and welcome to searchwarp!emmaThank You Emma :)
Hi Arnold great article and welcome to searchwarp!emmaThank You Emma :)
Good article. Welcome to searchwarp.Linda DThanks :)
This piece of yours is getting really close to being on the page two reader's choice top ten and I sure hope it goes there! GOOD job!Hey Marijo...., It is? I'm new to this website so I'm not sure how I'm causing it :-/ I guess what you're saying suppose to be a good thing, right? Thank you very much....Theres so much to my story I want to share but I don't want to give away everything before I publish it.this is a very good thing - they rate articles on what the readers have to say and the top 10 daily are published on page 2 - you can click on the little question mark on anyone's piece and it will take you into another page to see how some of the other pieces are ranked your's was right up there at about 12th yesterday. MarijoOh I saw it...wow :) and you're up there! Why? because you deserve to be...You're an awesome writer
What a story. I really enjoyed reading you article and feel for you. You must have felt very alone.Hey Mary Ann, I really happy that you enjoyed my article....yeah I was really lonely, but most of all depressed and home sick. Coming to America was something I wanted to do as a child. I wanted to help my family. I am writing a book, I hope everyone thats interested gets a chance to read my story. You will be shock and thrilled at the same time. Thanks once again for the read :)
Welcome to Search Warp! Your story touched me. I, too, dealt with peers who taunted me while I was in high school. I grew up in a nice suburb of Chicago with well-raised children, but kids have to find someone to pick on. If you are too thin, too fat, too smart, not smart enough . . . It does not matter what your particular condition is. Keep your faith. Stay focused on your goals. Military school will be a distant memory some day. They do not determine your destiny.awww, I understand where you coming from Deana....Thank you so much for taking time to read my article. I'm also happy that my story touched you....
Keep checking page two for the top ten reader's choice. I think this one will be there really soon! It means that yours would have been read and given scores that indicate that it is the pick of the readers for any given day. You shared your heart and many people are responding! Thanks and we will enjoy reading more of your story! MarijoMarijo I'm number 9...yay!!! But I didn't want to pass you :( you're an awesome writer....My tarantula one had been on there all week so it was definitely time for something fresh and new..... which yours is! And I am still in the "top ten". You can tell your family that there are close to 8000 writers on Searchwarp - so to get in the top ten is an honor for sure. Also, you got 4 stars on this piece (see the stars at the top of the article) that is a ranking from the editors (I think it is on how well punctuated and written from a technical standpoint the piece is) I had a hard time getting a 4 for a long time and finally, just this week got my first 4.5.... sometimes the copy and paste process you lose things too for some reason. Congrats! Great Job! By the way, when an article is 7 days old they take it off the top ten - so yours will go off pretty soon....but you can post another!
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