Niko’s Eye

Chapter 43.

"Safe House."

Alejandro.

If there was one thing that Alejandro really preoccupied himself with, it was Isis’ safety. Therefore, he had done everything in his power to ensure that Isis was safe.

That would ensure my own safety.

When I have lived each day in the love-nexus, when I have written my heart into this world, then my legacy is safe. For when I get to the end of this story that is my life, I want it to be a real page turner, a story others would want to read. For then I can say that I was alive, that for me every word, sentence and paragraph mattered. "Safe" as with all good concepts, exists on a spectrum, one can be not safe enough or too safe. I find a good balance. I intend to live a long life, how else can I get to do all the things I want to?

The meeting with Rãmirez and Sergio served to find ways for them to find Aisha and to take the necessary precautions to make sure that what transpired, never happens again.

The men were seated around the table, discussing their blueprints and waiting for the two ladies to join them.

"You know, I think that Aisha is in Mexico." Sergio said, exasperated.

"You reckon?"asked Rãmirez.

Sergio nodded. "She’s the ’Red Dragon, she can skip the country any time she wants to because her connections are everywhere."

They all pulled pensive faces.

"That’s a start. I mean, there’s nowhere else she could hide. And Sergio, if there was, you would know. Right?"

He looked over at Sergio and he looked like he had just seen something amazingly beautiful. So he followed the direction of his eyes and looked up at Isis and Zainab coming from the stairs.

There was a silent moment where Sergio’s face washed blank with confusion, like his brain cogs couldn’t turn fast enough to take in the information from his wide eyes. Every muscle of his body just froze before a grin crept onto his face, it soon stretched from one side to the other showing every single tooth.

"Oh yeah, that’s Zainab, Isis’ childhood best friend. And you all know Isis right, so there’s nothing to be...Oh..."

He realised that Sergio didn’t know that Isis lived with him.

Or did he? Wait, why is he surprised? Or shocked? Whichever one?

He saw Sergio slowly standing up from his seat, Zainab stopping in her tracks too.

What’s going on here?

Sergio.

A surprise isn’t an emotion I’ve ever taken well. Generally someone gets hurt and it isn’t me. So when I walk into Alejandro’s apartment to find my daughter there, and being right under my nose this whole time, I’m stunned. The blood rushes from my skin and every movement becomes robotic, my emotions taking over. In that moment, I was more machine than man. I was over the moon. My daughter, right here, right in front of me.

"Zainab?"

She looked like she was relieved and happy to see him.

For perhaps a split second her grief was suspended, the surprise protecting her until it shattered like glass. I guess you could call it shock, but to me they’re they’re the same thing for the first fraction of a second -an inability to compute.

The human brain is akin to a supercomputer built on top of a clunker. The clunker is your primitive, reptilian, survival brain. The supercomputer is what does your proper thinking, is logical, fair and kind. When you are afraid, the bandwidth of your supercomputer gets used up, leaving the clunker to do all your thinking for you. You go from awesome to primal and basic in a heart-beat.

That means a few things. Firstly, those in society without enough resources to survive, those with more life problems than anyone can handle - will appear stupid. Yet in truth, that level of stress makes everyone stupid, the bandwidth of their supercomputer is maxed out.

Secondly, it means that stressing kids out to make them learn is dumber than a sack of rocks. The more they worry about, the dumber they get. The more relaxed, happy and curious they are, the smarter they get.

Finally, it means that with proper social safety nets, ones that actually keep people fed, housed and feeling secure - the nation gets healthy, smart and cooperative.

So avoid the things that make you afraid, seek what brings joy and love, and soon you’ll find you are able to think better, your supercomputer brain in command.

I don’t care what country you live in, your news is propaganda. Fear and misdirection. They’ll tell you who to hate, who should live and die - show you how the enemy is barbarous and the powers that control your life are heroes. Those enemies are all "Dakota," they were children once too, perhaps they still are children. Maybe they have names you can’t pronounce and no-one to speak for them. Maybe they call their God by a different name than you do. Maybe they pray differently, eat differently, have a different family structure. Do any of those things mean they should die? Be expendable in "war"? Does it mean they should be allowed to starve to death? Are they so good at dehumanizing the "enemy" in your mind so you will turn a blind eye or even support war? Chances are strong that if you met these "enemies" in real life you’d be firm friends very quickly. I know I’ve fallen into a rant again, but I need to finish or my brain will boil over.

Love is the answer, not hate; let’s have grace over intolerance; critical thinking and genuine research over ignorance and impulsiveness. If you were back in the Nazi Germany, how would you avoid being swept away with anti-semitism? How can you avoid hating people you don’t know now, likely people from another culture and religion? Are any of them expendable? For less than we spend on war we could save them all.

He thought of Aisha, and her immaturity. He let her too close to his heart.

I never gave much thought to the notion of respect before, I simply poured out love and hoped to get some back. I guess that’s why they saw me as simple, a target for aggression, a ready victim. I’m not that little girl anymore and now I know the different versions of respect I’m going to be tougher to get close to. There is the respect the opposite gender gives because they find you attractive. There is the respect of someone who wants something from you without giving anything in return - flattery. Then there is the respect of a person who truly understands what you bring to the situation, that you are worthy and worthwhile. If it isn’t the third kind of respect you bring me - expect a cool reception. Just because I am emotionally open, it doesn’t make me dumb.

"Alejandro, if you personify love even in times of trouble, of hardship or war, then you are truly one of the mighty. I see how no matter the stresses laid upon you, that you show more grace than many do in times of plenty. It is in those moments of pain and fear I see right to your soul and know that my faith in you, my love for you, is eternal. You are brave, kind, always giving of yourself. I want you to know that I will be the same for you; I will be your mirror, bring you what you give others - true love, the lasting kind. Respect is more than passing pleasantries, more than nice words. It takes effort to look at the other and take in who they are and show them you regard their point of view with compassion and seriousness. It is listening without judgement, getting to know them with as few assumptions as possible. It is in careful understanding conveyed by empathic words and deeds to show the depth of feeling you hold for them. In this way respect is foundational for trust, just in the same way that trust is foundational for true love.

And to Aisha.

You don’t respect me; I don’t think you ever did. Yet it isn’t in you to be that mean and so I gather it must be part of general masculinity - to look down on the female strengths. Perhaps that isn’t fair, women disregard male strengths too, disrespect them I suppose - but I never did and certainly not with you. From me you receive nothing but respect, honour and devotion and still you strike out as if I were an enemy when rage burns your insides. I am not the source of your malcontent, but the salve to ease you. I deserve respect, some of the same care I give to you every day of my life.

I can draw an analogy -when a math person who cannot draw derides art as "simple" it’s just the same kind of disrespect. What you cannot do should never be thought of as simple - if I make something look easy that another person cannot do then even greater is my skill. So don’t look down on my talents, on my gifts, for without them we would have no life or happiness. You may be the rock, but I am the laughter, love and light. We cannot be a world of rocks alone and I know that I am the kindling your fire needs.

"Zainab is my daughter, and Aisha is her mother."