My Name Is Aaron Rutherford

By Errol Shaw

A childs life can be transformed by the people he or she holds the most dearest to their heart. However, when a child is not given the opportunity to experience the world as any normal adult, the results and the damages it brings can be devastating.
Having no proper guidance and love, Aaron, was a child who explored his world, discovered his family, and lived through physical and sexual abuse in a small village. He grew older never to understand the meaning of love, his rights to free will, and his rights to get an education. He was denied everything that was possible under the sun. The world was unkind to Aaron as he searched diligently and effortlessly within himself to find the answers that would right his many wrongs and put an end to his tireless struggles.
It seemed everywhere that Aaron turned there was a road block that prevented him from moving forward in his life.
Throughout his childhood, Aaron could not understand what he has done to deserve and live through his painful experiences suffering fear, ridicule from strangers and neglect from his own family.

Aaron would eventually get older to remember and reflect on all the experiences that occurred in his past. Though these experiences have shaped him into the person he is today, he has dealt with it accordingly by suppressing all the pain and burying it deep within his soul. Still impacted by the roadblocks and malice he encountered through his stay in the village, Aaron has used his experiences as motivation to improve his condition in life. He has become a survivor of death, slavery and abuse but in the end he will never stop to exceed peoples expectations of a child who at one point didnt have a way of being successful in this world. The evil in many peoples hearts has caused tremendous damage to this young childs self esteem but his fight, passion and focus to become someone has embedded a desire in himself to overcome all odds and have a name in this world that will never be forgotten.



Lloyd N. Moffatt

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jan 16, 2009
• ISBN: 9781462806089

Errol Shaw

About the Author Errol Shaw is the author of The Travel Experience, Nigel’s Dream, Weirdos: An Alien in the New World, among many others. He often appears on local television interviews discussing his work. He lives with his wife, Yemellett, in Brooklyn New York.

Book preview

Copyright © 2009 by Errol Shaw.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

To order additional copies of this book, contact:

Xlibris Corporation

1-888-795-4274

www.Xlibris.com

[e-mail]

53819

Contents

Acknowledgement

Preface

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Acknowledgement

I WILL FIRST GIVE thanks to God Almighty and to my mother Grace C. Henry for giving me the opportunity to find my passion and being able to pursue it. There are a number of people who have given me a solid motivation every time that I open my mouth to talk about some of my past experiences. They have uplifted me in more ways than I could imagine. First, I am especially grateful to Lloyd N. Moffatt who has put in copious hours in helping to bring this project to the surface. Furthermore, I especially would like to thank Chinwe Okeke-Moffatt, Delmena Shaw-Carroll, Mahalia Shaw-Lynch, Richard Senior, Peaches Morgan-Johnson, Shambozi Thomas, Marcusse Fenelon, Maria P. Ramos, Kevin Davis, Nelia M. Duncan and others who believe that this is a solid foundation for others to follow. I hope this motivation will give men and women of our time as well as future generations a clear perspective of how they too can build on that foundation. This work is dedicated to all the people listed here. I appreciate all the countless sacrifice and support that you have given me through the years with great love.

Preface

UNABLE TO BE cared for by his real mother, Aaron Rutherford was a young boy who was raised by his guardian mother Nelly in a small village on a Caribbean Island. Many years had come after he was given away three months at birth to be raised as an older child who would open his eyes to make sense of his new world. During Aaron’s stay with his guardian, he was constantly mistreated, abused, and subjected to control by strangers and family members who would stop at nothing for him to do their will. The innocence in his heart left him wondering what he did to deserve such turmoil and hardship. It seemed that all Aaron was good for was to serve others and fulfill their needs. Out of fear, he would be left with no other choice but to submit to their authority. In school and in his village, he often felt isolated and singled out from others because people would often tell him he was darker than other children.

Though Aaron was undermined and debilitated by adults and children, he would never stop finding a way to overcome harsh criticism. Even with the suppressing comments and beatings he took from his family, he would try to rebel against them to become someone in this world. Aaron never stopped his will to learn and his drive to get an education though he was often denied it by people who were uneducated and wanted to use him as their slave. Raised in poverty, he struggled to find love and happiness in a cold, cruel, and hostile world. There was no one in his life that would give him a sense of direction, so he developed the passion to learn and discover the world through his own eyes.

Though he is very intelligent and young, his drive to be someone in this world was undermined and never taken seriously by others. Aaron would have questions in his world and the life he was living, but the questions were never answered, and the pain would remain deep inside him as he could not find the courage to share with anyone the experiences he has had. The experiences in his past have shaped his life to be the person he is today. It is through his undying determination to face his challenges, overcome his fears, and conquer abuse that has made him etch his name on a road that not even the greatest storms in this world can wash away.

Lloyd N. Moffatt

Chapter 1

The First Few Years

DEEP IN THE valley of the Blue Mountain sits a little cottage where I spent the first twelve years of my life. This small cottage was hidden beneath many trees, surrounded by different wildlife, and was accessible only by foot and the family donkey. The journey from the main road seemed like miles away, and the closest neighbors were nowhere to be seen with the naked eyes. When I first found myself in the valley, I had no idea how I had gotten there, neither did I have the sensibility to question the notion as to what stream had brought me to this wonderful place. Every day I watched the lilies in the valley, and I wondered what force had brought about such beauty. I looked upon the dainty Spanish needles that grew by the brookside, and the way they danced in the wind brought me great hopes that one day I too will dance with the wind. I smelled the sweet redolence of pregnant rose that permeated the air as it gave birth to the red, white, and peach flowers. The sweet fragrance lasted for most of the year as the old bud vanished and made way for the birth of vibrant new flowers. The hot tropical sun opened its eye and delivered fire without a flame, yet those dainty flowers were able to endure that scorching ray of light.

I knew I had something in common with those wonderful plants and that was when I came to the realization that my existence was nothing but a dream.

Since no one told me how I got to this place, it was my duty to find out how I got here and why. I began to wander off into the unknown. I stood above the cliff and made loud noises. I listened to the sound that echoed deep in the valley. As I considered the echoing sound, long after my lips were sealed, I thought that I was not alone. At last, I said. Then I came to the awareness that it was the return of my own utterance. I allowed my imagination to lead me to the shady brook, and there were no doubts in my mind that I had found companionship among those dainty Spanish needles. I can remember when I first came to the realization that I existed. I heard the loud roar of water as it cascaded down the mountainside. My eyes were as sharp as a needlepoint, which helped me to see a great distance away. Fruits stood out in great abundance. Coconuts fell from trees that grew beyond the clouds; the sweet smell of rose apples permeated the air. Mangoes, lime, and grapefruits hung from their branches, far beyond my reach. My journey had brought me to a place that was quite beautiful and one that I can call my world. My virgin mind was fixed within the scope of my tiny world and to the things that existed within that world. Although I had no understanding of why my experiences were so unusual, I knew that soon I would come to the actualization of why things were the way they are. I looked upon the spreading mangoes and knew not why they were there. At the break of day, I am awakened by the roosters who fought helplessly to catch a butterfly that had lost its way. This must be the great garden in the Bible that Pastor Ramon often talked about in church. Only time will ripen my wisdom and help me to understand this miraculous valley far beyond the city.

Many days I waited for the wind to come forth and cool my body from the zealous heat. I watched my shadow in the noonday as it crept beneath my feet. I laughed and played in the shade and whispered to the leaves. I danced with my shadow because I knew no other way. I thought I found happiness, not knowing exactly what that was. Many days I can be seen playing with my shadow and that is where I first found happiness. As my mind ripens, I allowed my inner spirit to venture out in the wild with the hope of finding myself and my purpose in this subtle place. It was at that point in my life that I found an extension of gratification being among the many creatures that shared my world.

My guardian was a woman, very large in size that even with a simple rolling of the eyes would cause the donkey to kick and bray. I was not afraid of her powerful voice since I have grown accustomed to it. It was only after my first flogging that I understood the evil forces that were sent to protect me in the valley. I often misbehaved in the presence of my guardian being ignorant to my own danger. In those days my five senses seemed to have gone off on some holidays therefore, knowing what was good and what was evil was a plight that was yet to be discovered. I am often punished for not knowing the golden rules. But how could I have known without the help of a mastermind. As I looked back on those frugal hours of my past, I wondered about things that were wrong and the people who were responsible to care for me. That part of my past was a time of undeveloped common senses. Although many would think that it was my duty to differentiate right from wrong. I learned the hard way which was to experience danger over and over before I could believe that wasp and bees were not to be played with. Not knowing that touching a red-hot iron would leave me with excruciating pain. It was not until I committed a crime and experienced the penalty that I learned of the danger and pain that would be endured. I had no idea that if I stood behind the donkey and held his tail, he would kick me to the ground.

Ultimately, my experiences opened my eyes to the danger that lies within the valley.

I wondered about my guardian’s teethless mouth and why my teeth fell out when I was only six years old. My inquisitive mind was awakening to the facts of life. As I observed this intricate place, I came up with many questions – some with answers and some without. Some of my questions were laughed at while others were ignored as if though they were never asked. Sometimes I was slapped for passing my place, but how was I to know my own danger with my undeveloped common senses. Where are your teeth and why are they not growing back? I often asked Mammy Nelly. You will find out sooner or later – you just come to the world, so wait and in time, you will lose yours too, she said. Mines fell out, but it is growing back, I said. If you keep eating those worm-infested mangoes, then the next set of teeth will be gone forever. Being that I was new to the world, I was quite aware of everything around me. I observed the size and shape of things. I wondered why the donkey was larger and the dog was smaller than me.

I wondered why my mammy’s size was so much greater than my tiny stature. I wondered why the rooster crow in the noontime and the donkey laughed to show his discolored teeth. There was never a dull moment in my life. I’ve heard Mammy Nelly spoke of slavery days but had no idea what that was all about. I remembered my teacher had told me that slavery was a time when people did hard work and did not get any wages for their hard labor. Those words had set in my mind. When I measured the work that I had to do at the cottage, I knew I was a slave. I got no wages, yet I got many lashes for work I was unable to complete. Although I was afraid of flogging, I did not question the notion as to why I am being flogged long after the abolition of slavery. Although I shared the cottage with the woman whom I knew to be my mother, I wondered why she had got to be so evil. Many days I was being flogged, not knowing what I was being flogged for. I looked on the mud on my feet, the mango juice that ran down my chin, the stain on my pants and shirt after a well-deserved spanking; I wondered which of these scenarios I was being spanked for. I fetched several pails of water, I collected the firewood, I swept the yard, and I washed my mammy’s clothes; yet I was not exempt from a daily ass whipping.

Where is my half-sister Cinderella? I often asked, not knowing the extent of her pain nor the evil forces that were up against her. It was the light of the candle flies that helped me to find the bell tower where I often hid myself when I anticipated a flogging. Those marvelous lights worked wonders in the absence of the limpid moon. I am entertained by it, I am frightened by it, but my path would have been unobtainable without those magical lights. My journey was long and tiresome, but I must make my way to the bell tower when the platted whip lay still beneath the wooden bed. I danced in the wind at daybreak, and I let the dew from the dancing weed drenched my naked feet. I traveled on that narrow path, with hope to see a brighter day. In the heart of those spreading mangoes, I watched the water from the rain-drenched land trickling down the mountainside, and I knew from that point on that my place was in the bell tower. I had no consciousness of why I found happiness in the bell tower; neither do I know what brought about this intricate place. It was always hopeless to rely on my premises since my right is always wrong. In the heat of my emotion, I asked many questions, but neither birds nor bees listened to my cry. I am entertained by the creatures, yet I felt all alone, behind the doors of the bell tower. I knew no brothers nor sisters, mother nor father, aunts nor uncles; so I found love and friendship among the things of the wild. I put some oil in the lamp to sustain me on this journey through the mountainous terrains. When the oil was consumed from the lamp, I relied on the candle flies that shun beautiful mundane lights on that dark wooded path. As my vision brightened, I see a brown-skinned lady who claimed to be my mother. She too lived at the cottage that she kept under lock and key. I thought she was the mistress of all slaves. I learned later that she knew no better and was only applying what she had learned from her parents who have barely escaped a pivotal time in history. I looked at her many tasks, and I knew she was trapped in the past. I grew up thinking that there was no other way to life and that my only alternative was to live until our days on earth is ended.

Poor old Mammy Nelly was a beast of burdens, and she had me following right in her footsteps. From very early in my life, she got me out of bed at 6:00 AM and from that moment until the sun set in the west, our tasks would begin in the morning and end at night. In the early morning, we worked like beasts, and in the noontime, we sang like caged birds. Our break was only on Sunday mornings, and it was at that point of the week that she would let me stay in bed a little longer. Some Sundays, when she was not in a good mood, she would ask me to get up at six in the morning to sweep the yard and collect drinking water from a spring that was far away. Her exact words were, You are not a gal child, so get out the bed and go to get the nice morning breeze. She knew exactly why she took me from the strange woman who she claimed was my mother. She was desperately in need of someone who could work like a horse. When she found me, she declared that she had found a worker. I did my best to please her, but there were times when she had issues that were beyond my comprehension.

Looking back at the equivocal past, I am forced to realize that my senses were still in its premature stages. During those days, I had no idea or knowledge of how those creatures that are called humans came about. Not seeing visitors or anyone passing by our cottage for a very long time, I thought Mammy and I were the only two people who existed in the valley. I had no idea that, in time, I will discover a big world somewhere out there filled with many people of different color and shape. As my acumen began to develop, I started to adapt to the sounds of the old braying donkey and the birds that sang sweet tunes throughout the day. I had no recollection of any visitors before; therefore, I believe that there were no other living human beings roaming around the valley. At the age of four, I had no idea of the week or year that had passed before. One bright Monday morning, minutes before my shadow crept beneath my feet, we’ve traveled to the main road to visit a woman who lived in a great house. It was during that time that I discovered that there was another world out there.

I came upon a huge white house, and I thought I have found heaven. Not knowing exactly what heaven was, I thought I’ve finally found the place that Mammy Nelly had been talking about when she preached it to me. After our first adventure away from the valley, we made it our duty to visit Lady Francella Peckerwood on a regular basis. She lived in a great house on a hill, which she shared with her husband Germane Peckerwood. Lady Francella Peckerwood is the daughter of Mammy Nelly and the daughter of my great-granduncle Samuel. After my fifth birth year, Mammy Nelly and I spent most holidays at the great house. I cannot say birthdays since I had no idea which months of the year I was born. It was not until I was twelve years old that I actually knew when my birthday was. It was also the first time that I held my age-paper (birth certificate) when it was ordered from the registry. I was often sent out to play in the front yard while Mammy Nelly chatted and laughed with Lady Francella. She was an unusual-looking woman with hard, strong legs and a height that was average to other women. She never smiled, and when she gave a joke, Mammy Nelly would laugh until she cried, but Lady Francella Peckerwood would be as serious as a judge. Mrs. Peckerwood worked like a man on the farm, and in the house, she was able to give pleasure to her husband in her ladylike manner. Her husband, on the other hand, also looked like a heinous maniac, always touching his wife’s leg when no one was paying attention. Fortunately, I was not the kind of child who misses out on important things. I took a keen interest in other people’s behavior and that helped me to understand the behaviors of human kind. Although I’ve seen the animals frolic in their kingdom, I was never the least surprise by human behaviors.

One day while Mammy Nelly and I were visiting Lady Francella Peckerwood at the great house, it was the Christmas season, and everyone was quite jolly. Lady Francella Peckerwood had dressed up the great house very nicely with beautiful Christmas colors for the holiday. Mammy Nelly and Lady Francella Peckerwood were engaged in a long conversation about the drought that had lasted for a very long time. They also talked about the effect such drought had had on the crops. Other times, they talked about everything that was going on in the valley as well as small gossip about the neighbors. I was often sent outside to play in the yard, when they became suspicious of my inquiring mind. I was not allowed to stand around when two grown-ups were conversing. Especially, when I began asking questions about what was being said. It was considered disrespectful, and many times, I was flogged severely just for intervening in grown people’s conversation. Consequently, I was quite a good listener; therefore, I would often listen in on a story from far away. I often find secret places to hide myself in corners where no one could see me. I often kept my ears wide open to hear what was being talked about. My dear daughter, this little bwoy is a blessing, Mammy Nelly said. I don’t know how I would survive if he wasn’t around. When his mother first brought him down to me, he could not even creep nor walk. Today, I can send him to get me a drink of water or to bring me a plate. Oh, what a blessing. From the moment he started to make his first steps, I could send him to get things in the kitchen, and in seconds, he would be tagging along with it in his nimble little hands. Before his mother brought him down, I had no other choice but to go and get it myself. I am glad I did not turn his mother away when she brought him and gave him to me to be raised as my own.

I was less than eight years old, but that did not prevent me from listening attentively to what was being said about me as well as other people. Every time we visited Lady Francella Peckerwood, the story between her and Mammy Nelly would focus on me. We spent many days and nights at the great house, which was all surrounded with glass. As I got older, I would get into tantrums when it was time to go back to the cottage. I wanted to stay at the great house because it was much nicer there. The house was six times larger than our small cottage that was situated deep down in the valley. The great house was also the largest house in the district. When I looked at the other houses, it almost seemed as if Mr. Peckerwood was trying to outdo all the other people in the neighborhood. I love staying at the great house since there were much more rooms there to play in that huge glasshouse. The only things I missed in the valley where we lived were those creatures that sing beautiful songs during the day and the lamenting of the owls by night. After many years of listening to that musical sound, I became accustomed to the music and looked forward to the sound of those cheerful creatures that comes out by day and those that sing in unison on those dark moonless nights.

It was three days after Christmas when we decided to go back to the valley. It almost seemed as if Mammy Nelly and I had overstayed our time at the great house. And although I loved being at the great house, at times, I became irritable with the absence of those creatures in the valley as they paraded around with their bootless cries. The fact still remained that I enjoyed every moment that I spent being away at the great house. During the summer months when everything was in abundance in the valley, nothing at the great house could keep me from the bell tower in the valley. Mammy Nelly and I were eager and ready to return to the valley after a day or two away from home. We often looked forward to those candle flies as they brightened up the moonless nights. When Lady Francella Peckerwood realized that we were feeling a bit uneasy, she asked. Are you staying over tonight, Mother?

Oh no, love, the pigs had no food, the dogs had not eaten in days, the donkey had been tied to that grapefruit tree for days, and the chicken needs a fresh tray of drinking water. As disappointed as she was, Lady Francella Peckerwood started to pack groceries for us to take home to the valley. I was too young to carry anything heavy, so she helped us carry the provisions halfway down the mountainside, at which point, Mammy Nelly would take over. During our journey down that long hazardous path, Mammy Nelly carried me for a part of the way down the rocky terrain, but after a short distance, she started complaining that I was too heavy and that I am man enough to walk the journey. It was a little more than halfway down the mountain when Lady Francella Peckerwood decided that it was time for her to turn back.

It is getting a bit dark, and the candle flies are not plentiful at this part of the valley, she said. Don’t worry, dear – the Lord will provide light for you to see your steps on this desolate path. I did not bring a torch with me, so I have to go back home now. Mammy dearest, walk good and be careful not to tumble down in the dark. And you little Aaron Rutherford, please don’t give Mammy any trouble – be a good bwoy and you will get a surprise from Father Christmas when he comes back again next year. She put the box of groceries on Mammy Nelly’s head, and since I was very little, the only thing I could carry was the torch. I held it close to Mammy Nelly’s feet so she could see where she was putting her feet.

The night had gotten darker, and Lady Francella Peckerwood was well on her way back to the great house. As she made her way back home, she made many hooting sounds, which reminded me of the owls that I often heard late at night and the sound of the rolling calf that Mammy Nelly always told me about. This was her way of checking on us to see how far we have gotten. After Lady Francella left, it was difficult for she to see the light from the torch we was carrying through the dense wood, but as we traveled down the mountain, Lady Francella Peckerwood would call us by our names to make sure we were okay. Beyond the thick forest trees, her voice became fainter, and after a while, it became quite difficult for Lady Francella Peckerwood to see the light even at areas where there was clearing. We often responded to her cry so she would be at ease. When she could no longer see the light of our torch through the clearing, or hear our voices, she knew that we had gotten very deep in the valley. Sometimes we heard a little sound when she called us by our names to find out how far we had gotten. Is the oil finished from the lamp as yet? She often asked in her loud voice. We responded not knowing if she heard our voices. When we were a good distance away, we were no longer able to hear her whooping voice. Mammy Nelly knew from that point on that Lady Francella Peckerwood had gone to the other side of the mountain, and her voice could no longer be heard. Our torch was running out of oil, and we were not yet close to home. The path was quite dangerous due to bad weather during the rainy season, and if we were not able to see where we were going, someone could fall and get hurt.

Our dog Lion heard our voices from miles away and came a good distance to meet us. He was quite happy to see us. The poor dog was filled with glad tiding as he jumped and wagged his tail. It was difficult for Lion to conceal his happiness. He was filled with joy after not seeing us for many days. He jumped up and down as a way of welcoming us back home to the valley. How did you know we were coming home now, being so far away? Mammy Nelly asked the dog, not expecting an answer; she knelt down slightly with the heavy box she was carrying to ruffle the hair on his head. The poor dog responded only with a wagging his tail, a twist, a turn, and a jump. It was nice to have extra company to continue our journey home and to spare us from the boogeyman that lurks in the dark wooded path. After completing our journey down the long rugged terrain, Mammy Nelly, our dog Lion, and I made it safely home.

The moment we arrived home, she put the heavy box of groceries down at the cottage door, put a little oil in the lamp, and put out the dwindling flame from the torch I was holding. She took the bottle from me and placed it on top of a water drum that was half covered at the side of the cottage. That drum contained water for drinking and other daily use. After putting away the groceries, it was about time to go to bed. Mammy Nelly washed my hands and feet, changed my clothes, and made my bed. I did not share the same bed with her since I was a bed wetter. My bed was made up of flower bags stuffed with dried banana leafs and dried mart grass that we had put together. I can remember being on my bed and listening to the dried banana trash and grass, as it made funny sounds when I twisted and turned on it at night. My custom-made bed was not as large as Mammy Nelly’s, but it was good enough for my size. When I was lying down, Mammy Nelly often covered my body up to my neck, with one of her old dresses or a piece of old sheet. That night after we returned from the great house, I could not sleep well. I can remember every time that I fell into a nap, I was bitten by a bedbug. I realized that they too were waiting for a meal of young hot blood. It also felt as if the bugs had multiplied during our absence since there were more bugs than usual. The many days we spent away from the cottage enabled the bedbugs to breed and fill our beds with these little blood thirsty creatures.

I woke up Mammy Nelly in the middle of the night when the last bit of oil was about to disappear from the lamp. The flame was so dim that I could no longer see those little bloodsuckers. Mammy Nelly was too lazy to get up and refill the lamp with oil; therefore, we had to manage without light until daybreak. I was often afraid of the dark, and that night I yelled out a couple of times when I woke up in darkness. I could not see myself lying on the cot. It was also difficult finding the chamber pot that was placed beneath Mammy Nelly’s bed. That night I was forced to wet my bed. It was quite difficult having two bed wetters in the same household. It was not until later that we realized that bed-wetting ultimately breeds more bedbugs. Some nights, when enough oil was in the lamp, the chamber pot was used to do both number one and number two. At times we had trouble when we had too much mango juice and coconut water in our bellies. During those nights, the chamber pot would get filled up with number one and two that we would be forced to empty it before daybreak. When I was old enough to take the chamber pot out, I would often have accidents where number one and two made the pot overflow and that left me with no other choice but to put my hand and clothes in a messy state.

Since our cottage was quite small, the fumes from the number one and two would leave a stench in the air. After awhile we tried to drink very little when it was close to our bedtime. And most nights, Mammy Nelly would not make it off the bed to the chamber pot; therefore, in the morning her bedding had to be put out to sun. Doing so however did not clear the air from the odorous stench; therefore, we spent many days smelling more like billy goats.

Urine has become a big commodity in the valley. It was no longer thrown away. Mammy Nelly came up with a new remedy for her dried cracked