Excerpt from my novel FATE.

                                                              Hard to Be a Child   

                               It was always the innocent children of a ‘wedlock, stock, and barrel’ who could hone their survival reasoning by sensing the tension within the home. Ask the infamous Captain Crabbe about his childhood, and he will tell you that body language was the first language he learned in order to survive in the Crabbe household.
       The act of being born is an essential aspect of human existence, yet it is one that occurs without the consent or choice of the child. Children enter the world as a result of a complex biological process, activated by love, lust, or rape, and sometimes by the decisions made by their parents, but they themselves have no real say in the matter when human instinct takes over. This fundamental truth underscores the nature of life itself, highlighting the absence of choice in the act of being born, without getting into the complexities of a spiritual choice, color, or freedom.
       It was hard to be a child.
       Generally, children are born very competent at reading the body language of adults, almost instinctively at a glance, which is communicated without the spoken word being heard or said. They observe and absorb the subtle gestures, facial expressions, and poses of those around them. It helps the child recognize and understand the emotions of others, deepening their emotional intelligence for survival in life.
       Being able to decipher body language not only encourages their communication skills but also nurtures compassion or aggression. If the child failed to grasp the mood among the adults or their peers, then it was down to the certainty of that human survival perspective clicking in, to take note of any deceitful behaviors in the equation with fate that might have been missed. If so, then it was all down to a play-out in the cards that they were dealt by fate.
       Hard to be a child.
       In the 1800s, being born in a whaling village without a doctor was a matter of life and death for mother and infant. It meant that women faced the daunting prospect of labor without a trained midwife. The harsh realities of life in such villages were compounded by the demanding nature of whaling, which required men to be away for extended periods, leaving women to manage not only their pregnancies but also the daily challenges of supporting their living children, and believing that God Himself would step in when needed.
       But if He did not, they accepted it as His will.
       In this particular whaling village, there was one middle-aged woman, English by birth. She took it upon herself to be the acting midwife, assuming the role with a sense of purpose and commitment. With her nurturing spirit and a wealth of practical wisdom with herbs, she became a trusted figure in the village, so much so that the majority of female infants were named after her. She also performed abortions when requested.
       It was hard to be a child.
       Being born in a whaling village characterized by brutal winters and even more unforgiving summers posed significant challenges for any infant, as the struggle for survival was formidable for both humans and animals alike. The arrival of a newborn was not merely a cause for celebration but a stark reminder of the harsh realities that lay ahead … and another mouth to be fed. Families who welcomed their newborn into the world, especially if it was a male, considered that God Himself was with them in blessing them with good fortune … a son. But they also knew they were faced with the weight of responsibility and the unpredictability of fate.
       The relentless winters brought with them fierce winds, heavy frost, and snowfall, creating an environment that tested the resilience of even the hardiest of inhabitants. The summers, though more hospitable, were often marked by oppressive heat. The struggle for survival loomed large in shaping the very essence of existence for adults and children in this unforgiving landscape, but it was the adult’s chosen life, and it was their fate alone.
       But it was hard to be a child.
       In the early stages of life, most infants possess the ability to detect various smells … like that dampness oozing out like gunge snaking down the walls in a fisherman’s cottage, stale and pungent in every waking and sleeping hour. It would stay with them throughout their life … that smell. It was in their clothes, their hair, everywhere on their body … that musty smell … long after adults and children alike no longer noticed it.
And the worst of a smell would cling to a well-behaved mongrel dog, kept out of the house to fend for itself in the rain, unless you were a bachelor living alone, when the dog was your only friend. And if you were a fisherman who spent most of your life at
sea, you might catch a hint of guano drifting in on the wind from Mermaid Island when the rains eased off.
       It was in every known place, that smell … seeking and reeking, lingering on like an unwanted guest who had nowhere else to go when everybody else had somewhere else to be.
       It was hard to be a child.

 

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