Adele!! Yes, Mum, I ran to her. Please go wake your brother up; it's time for school. Have you packed the lunch boxes? Yes Mum. A few minutes later, you are still not ready? Mum, please give me 2 minutes. I hurriedly wore my uniform and brushed Ken's hair.
Ken is my little brother; he's 6 years old and rather stubborn but still cute. I just clocked 12, so I'm now an adult. My mom's little rebellion is a funny name right? My mom usually calls me that, maybe because of my beast tattoo bestowed upon me since birth.
We lived in a community called Nyleshk in the northern part of the country Viseria. My dad was a member of the council, a strict man. He really didn't care about my mom or me, just my brother. Why? Because the constitution allows it. Anyway, story for another day. Don't forget to tie your scarf, Adele. Yes, Mum, but Mum, it doesn't match with my uniform? I grumbled. Yes, it doesn't, my love, but it stands for peace, she told me, more like a death sentence. I rolled my eyes. She pinched my cheeks, softly smiling. This is why I call you my little rebellion, but don't remove it, alright? Yes, Mum.
My mom is kind of the most intelligent person I know, and I promise you I don't know many people, funny, right? We are not allowed to ask questions in school. Sometimes going to school is a privilege, but because it is the quick way for the females to meet their sponsors, that's why "Not going to School" is ruled out from the constitution of not doing anything.
My mom explains to me the cruelty and hardship of the world and the ways to fight for that which she called our right. She read countless historical books, mostly the one about Queen Elizabeth, which I think is her favorite because she reads that particular novel all the time.
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After school, we walked past the square where the council's rules were carved on black iron.
Rule 1: A woman's voice shall not rise above a man's.
Rule 2: Disobedience is treason.
I never understood those rules, but I noticed fear in the faces of women who passed by, heads bowed, eyes dim. I realized that those rules are made to silence the women. And the fears written on the faces of those women are proof of their total submission and survival. Which is kind of sick because there is a rule that the men are supposed to be giving a rule which means proper equation. Maybe I should clean this rule in the night when everyone is asleep. Because if this rule is wiped by a total stranger it will take a while for it to be rebuilt.
When we got home later that evening, I asked my mother, "If someone breaks that rule, what happens" She froze, her needles pausing above the clothes. " Then they disappear." I gulped down an invisible spit. I remember thinking I would sneak in at night and clean those rules early this afternoon, but I was mistaken because if breaking the rule is disappearing, how about cleaning the rules? Tck, I'm not sure if I want to think what they'll do to me. I snapped from the stupid thought and assisted my mom in sewing before my dad got back.
The morning bell rang, utterly disturbing the building close to it, but for us students, the bell was a warning sign meaning, Boys and girls, come out before the third clap. Boys and girls lined up in different lines, the boy at your right and the girls to the left. We said our morning devotions and made our way to the classroom. Boys chatter filled the air while the girls moved in solemn silence, hands clasped behind their backs, eyes down. Adele followed the line to the class, wooden desks, ink-stained floors, and a portrait of the mighty council hanging high on the wall, photos of men who passed the rules in gold robes with eyes that seemed to follow you. I sat at the back of the class; the back seat is reserved for the girls, while the boys sit at the front, but they can decide where they want to sit down. It was so because we, the girls, aren't supposed to talk or answer questions unless it's related to us or when we are needed to or asked.
"Today," the teacher began, pacing before the board, "we learn about virtue and order the foundations of a peaceful society." Her voice was calm, rehearsed. "And tell me why do we say silence is a woman's greatest virtue?" This question is meant for the girls.
A few hands from the back row lifted, mostly from the girls desperate to sound obedient.
"Because it shows respect," one girl said softly.
"Because speaking too much is pride," another added.
The teacher nodded approvingly. "Yes. A woman's peace keeps her home strong."
Adele's hand twitched, just slightly. She hadn't meant to lift it, but curiosity slipped through her control. The teacher's gaze caught her.
"Yes, Adele?"
The room went still. Even the boys stopped whispering.
Adele hesitated, then said, "But if silence is all we're allowed… how do we ever learn to be right?"
The words landed like thunder. The teacher's smile froze.
Murmurs rippled through the boys' row; one of them smirked.
The teacher's pointer tapped against the board, a slow, warning rhythm.
"Adele," she said tightly, "wisdom doesn't come from speaking. It comes from knowing when not to."
"Yes, ma'am," Adele murmured, lowering her head.
But the question still burned inside her, louder than any answer. But if you don't ask questions how will you know those things you are not supposed to ask? She asked herself quietly.
Mom don't you think that this silence of a thing is a bit exaggerated? Why are you asking? My mom asked me with curious eyes, after we finished drying the fish for dinner. Miss Isabelle told me that wisdom doesn't come from speaking but it comes from knowing when not to – Is it true? I actually don't believe her, I sighed, trying to give up on the topic. Is it not alarming that the time we are allowed to ask questions and question our rights, it will be ignored, and calling silence a virtue? Mum started smiling. I continued ignoring her completely, and the fact she is a woman is an annoying fact. She's supposed to be siding with her gender, not the other way around. She is stupid. I complete my statement with that remark. Shh!! My mom shushes me: Don't let anyone hear you insulting your teacher! unless you want to be punished. I rolled my eyes. She sighed, My love, your teacher is partially right. You need to know when to sneak those wisdoms of yours and know when to bring them out, and you are also right: silence is not supposed to be a virtue. Silence is when you meditate about some wisdom you've reached and how to make that wisdom a living spirit in you, something you want to wander more in your body. Silence is sometimes a sign of defeat, not strength or anything; it shows fear and total surrender, and my love, I don't want you to be silent. I want you to be a living whisper that echoes the word freedom. Do you get it? But for now we need to dwell in silence until it envelops you and your inner self bursts into flames of total hatred of the system. Do you understand? she asked. I nodded. "Good girl." She rested her forehead on my head, and I asked, "When will it happen?" Very soon, my love, very soon. She raised her head and smiled at me, a smile that answers all my questions, a smile that makes me feel accomplished. It's time to go to bed; remember, tomorrow is a great day. I got up. Good night, Mom. I pecked her forehead and went to my room.