Martha and the Dream Thieves
She had a body full of pieces of platinum. She had been a pawn all her life, for as long as she could remember. At the age of 7, she was abused for the first time by the man who claimed to be her protector, legally speaking. A kind of guardian who had allowed her to be welcomed as a citizen in a country where she had not been born. Martha had always imagined a beautiful life, not perfect, but beautiful, sweet, calm, but there are children who are born with a high level of suffering, so that they will take such lessons, to later teach those around them the social responsibilities they have assumed. He had always heard it said, from various protagonists in his life and at different times, that God only gives us the cross that he knows we can carry. That God knew her, Martha thought, the procession was not yet in the churchyard. At the age of eight, she became pregnant from rape. Has it all been hidden, well or badly, to her misfortune? No! Being a mother had felt like a mission to her. And from there, from his belly, 13 children were born. I looked at her eyes, which were sweet, but the profile of a warrior, a fighter. In the circus, she had done juggling, trapeze and antics, but when the lights went out, when the humans and the applause disappeared, her greatest suffering began. Because being a mother was better than being a daughter, but not being able to be a mother was proportionately worse than being born. Slavery took care of it for her. Solitude was a blessing that she seldom enjoyed. She even thought about running away. It didn't matter where, as long as it was far away from that pack of mangy dogs. She became accustomed to pain, to not fighting, to being raped repeatedly, to being admonished. That was left to her as another mission. That God would have cared about her, that He allowed her enemies to humiliate and torture her consecutively. On her body, platinum spread as if it were her and she was platinum. In her fall from the trapeze, she had taken a thin but long bar into the pelvis. On the legs, both with platinum, on the kneecap and on the femur. She had platinum from her neck to her lower jaw, and on her shoulders, another piece. All of it was platinum. And the pains, when they came, those of the body, were also mingled in her like blood, to which she had become accustomed to it. It was the complement of the missives. Her husband had married her, she was still a teenager and he was old. He had destroyed her, he had ruined her whole course. Marta still remembered her dreams, no grandeur, just beauty and sweetness. And life had changed its course. On her face, beauty was still a hallmark. The hard features, the rigid and severe posture she assumed were due to aggressiveness and mistreatment, But next to that person, who treated her well, she said that she would adopt more children, many more, to save them from the clutches of the abusers. With a crowbar, after another beating, she had reduced her husband's life expectancy to a comatose breath. She had shoved the crowbar down his back and, not satisfied, had still made the possibility of breathing a sub-zero chance. After all, there was no evil that always lasted. And to be there, now making a living away from the spotlight, planning a future - who would have thought she had a right to a future, if she had seen her juggling in that circus of hell, pregnant with her eighth child and feeding lions, without even being able to set eyes on her natural children, serving this and that, of a servitude without any voluntariness, except the acceptance of life as a mission?
I said goodbye to her, still incredulous, for her youth and beauty, for her willpower and for the dreams she still carried. Martha wasn't the only one to be used as a scapegoat for a sick society, she knew it. Hence, her desire, almost obsession, to adopt children, to prevent them from taking away their dreams. And while Europe struggled with human trafficking, enslaving adults, hungry for dignity and peace, in other corners, Another type of trafficking was obscured: that of girls who were taken to countries where they could be used as surrogates and have babies for rich and sterile people, who bought their posterity at the price of tears and dreams stolen in early childhood.
I had to go back to the conversation with Marta. To make Marta known, of the many unknown martens, would give rise to the probability of building a mother-house to protect mothers and children from the thieves of dreams!
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