José

Jose

CHAPTER ONE

Dirt, sweat and the Indian sun combined to needle the skin of Jose Fernandez and his Margao City team-mates.  They were down one-nil to their arch rivals Colva Village, and forced to play the bulk of the game without their shirts as a penalty for allowing Colva to score the first goal.

Taunts from the opposition spectators increased in volume as the final whistle approached.  Margao City relied on Jose to muster whatever strength was left in his body to save his team ...yet again.

Inter village football matches were hard fought and very competitive in the soccer-mad city of Goa on the west coast of India.  This particular grudge match had been a typically tough encounter and now a Colva victory appeared imminent.

A cross flew from the boot of Henry, the Margao City right winger.  Jose strategically anticipated his foot powerfully contacting the ball and sending it rocketing past the goalkeeper.  Pushing off a defender, he flung himself into the air and whipped his right leg across his body resulting in a perfectly struck volley - just as he envisioned.  It was exactly what Jose was capable of and the fact he did it with four minutes remaining in the game delighted his team-mates.  They had been expecting something special from their most gifted player.  The opposition reluctantly predicted Jose would impact on the game at some point.  Although with the end only minutes away they were beginning to believe his brilliance could be nullified.  The volley he’d just performed reminded Colva Village that Jose could not be tamed; the score was now one all.

The fierce rivalry between the two teams meant either would have traded a win against any club, possibly two wins, just to beat each other. Victory was a point of honor, and led to a tidy profit for those who had wagered on the outcome.  Jose knew he could deliver another goal allowing Margao City to triumph. His confidence swelled when he received the ball just outside the penalty area. 

Jose was instantaneously surrounded by opposition player’s intent on dispossessing him.  Their legs thrashed wildly at the ball and at Jose, hoping to come into contact with either one. Jose back-heeled the ball behind himself and through the flailing legs. He turned and hurdled a challenge from one opponent on his way toward goal.  Suddenly, his legs were cut from under him in what was a crude, savage tackle.  Jose felt the rough playing surface grind against his skin.  A hand on the back of his head pressed his face into the mixture of sand and soil that covered the barren pitch.  Such a tackle would have earned a penalty on any other soccer pitch in the world.  Not at Colva Village, where the referee feared for his safety too much to award a penalty to the opposition.  Not to mention the wager he’d placed on the local team.

Jose picked himself up and caught his breath in preparation for one last effort.  He walked toward centre field and noticed other player’s heads were lowered; both teams appeared resigned to a one all result.  Jose had other ideas. 

He received a pass from his right winger, Farley.  Jose turned to face his goal; three Colva players converged on him like vultures to a carcass. With only a split second to think he threaded the ball through one of the defenders legs, and ran around the others to the right, leaving their vicious tackles swinging at thin air as they anticipated him running toward the direction the ball was played.  All that remained were two defenders coming in from the right and the goalkeeper.  Jose re-gathered the ball and continued downfield.  He feigned left, wrong footing his assailant’s frantic attempt to stop an attack that could steal the game away.  At the precise moment Jose sensed the Colva players were committed to his movement, he tapped the ball with the outside of his right foot and sprinted toward centre field.  The two defenders were left clutching at air and pointing at each other in a desperate endeavor to apportion blame.  The goalkeeper stood his ground, noticeably gulping for air and wishing he were anywhere else on earth.  As with every goal Jose scored, he could see the ball in the back of the net before he kicked it.  Unaware this was a mysterious power; Jose just did what came natural.  He loved soccer and loved winning.  The goalkeeper made the right move and dived impressively to his left.  Unfortunately for him the ball was already tangled in the goal netting, Jose’s kick had whistled by well before the goalkeeper’s muscles twitched.  Two – one!

The Margao City players mobbed Jose, who, with eyes closed pictured himself winning the FA Cup at Wembley. He liked to put himself at a different European stadium every time his players celebrated with him.  He visualized the perfectly manicured green grass beneath his feet, the roar of the crowd and respect from the best soccer players in the world.  When he opened his eyes, he couldn’t see anything through the dust whipped up by his exuberant team mates.  He enjoyed the moment knowing that one day he would mix it with the games finest.  He had dreamt it so intensely, he knew it would happen, he just wasn’t sure how. 

Jose was 18 years of age and lived with his parents, younger brother and sister in a middle-class area of Goa. They were a very close family.  Jose was five foot ten inches tall with a slightly low center of gravity, which helped his football prowess, as he was difficult to dispossess of the ball.  With dark caramel colored skin, his athletic build was the envy of most boys. Females of all ages would sneak a glance at his handsome features, wavy black hair and walnut colored eyes. 

Jose had completed five years of high school and showed no desire to continue his education; ecstatic the day school was finally behind him.  He spent a lot of time wandering around the many tourist areas of Goa, amazed at the comings and goings of the visitors to his idyllic corner of the world.  Where had they come from?  Why were they in Goa?  What was their own village like if they came to Goa for a vacation?  Not having much of an idea of the rest of the world, Jose was wide eyed and inquisitive at the constant stream of holiday makers relaxing by huge resort swimming pools, the same pools that taxed a large amount of Goa’s water resources.  Tourists were that important to Goa that the local’s water usage was heavily rationed and restrictions instigated. Still, the visitors lazed around big blue swimming pools adjacent to an even bigger pool, The Arabian Sea.

Goa had been the epicenter of the Portuguese empire in Asia and the region was a blend of Portuguese and Indian cultures.  Originally ruled by a succession of Hindu dynasties, it fell to the Muslims in 1472.  Portuguese forces conquered in 1510 and ruled for centuries.  When India gained independence in 1947, it demanded Goa cede to India.  Years of tension and warfare ended in 1962 when Goa was finally returned to Indian rule. 

Tourists had been part of the landscape for as long as Jose could remember, bringing a lot of money into Goa. He had worked in one of the large hotels during the tourist season and hoped to be called upon again.  He disliked the work but enjoyed meeting the international personalities and earning his own money, which was encouraging to his father. 

Peter Fernandez, Jose’s father was of Portuguese ancestry.  As a carpenter he worked extremely hard and struggled to provide a standard of living he was proud of and the family could enjoy.  He dearly wanted his sons to follow in his footsteps, although he could see it was improbable.  Their passions did not involve timber, or building. 

Jose loved sitting with his father and talking about anything that came into their heads, particularly how his father courted Mrs. Fernandez and the tricks he played on her as efforts of attention seeking and signs of affection.  The stories amused Jose and he admired the way his father cared for the family. Jose would relay his performances on the football pitch to his father and spoke of his aspirations.  His father offered words of encouragement and told Jose to –strive for what you believe in and it would happen if you wanted it badly enough.  He filled Jose full of confidence and fuelled the fire that was burning inside his eldest child. 

Mr. Fernandez understood that Goan boys were not gracing the soccer pitches of Europe and that for an uneducated Indian boy to make it anywhere in the world was a long shot.  He also realized that most boys didn’t even have dreams, their destiny was predetermined.  At least his son had a dream and possessed something special, he’d seen him play.

Jose would stare at his father’s hands in wonder, the tough leathery skin was the result of years of labor, for which he was grateful.  However, the thought of raising and supporting his own family was something unimaginable to Jose and he banished such thoughts to the back corner of his mind.  Jose considered himself lucky his parents had not arranged an appropriate girl for him to marry.  They encouraged him to wait until the right girl entered his life.  He knew his mother wanted him to settle down eventually and continue the life that had beset previous generations of her family – It was the correct thing to do, she insisted.

Jose enjoyed talking to his mother regarding his observations of the tourists.  But Mrs. Fernandez preferred to ignore this element of their city and classified it as some sort of fantasy world.  If you aren’t making money from the visitors, leave them alone, was her philosophy. 

Mrs. Fernandez knew Jose liked to dream and occasionally she reminisced about her only trip abroad.  She had worked for 12 months as a maid in London.  She spoke of Buckingham Palace, Harrods and snow, all of which fascinated Jose.  He thought his mother was extremely privileged to have lived near Highbury, the home of Arsenal Football Club, one of the greatest clubs in the world, but could not comprehend how she failed to attend any games. These moments of retrospection were rare and Jose treasured them as his mother usually blocked out anything not happening in her immediate world. 

Jose’s sister, Mary, was 16.  She looked up to him, though he was never sure why. He unconsciously looked out for her and relished being an older brother, particularly when he considered the wrong type of boy was paying her too much attention.  Mary trusted Jose’s opinion and would always ask him before talking to a boy let alone dating one.  Jose liked to help Mary with her homework and constantly stressed the importance of a good education; the fact he had ceased his prematurely was not an issue for Mary. Her big brother was going to be a champion footballer and he didn’t need any further education! Jose appreciated his sister’s faith in him and wanted to reward her in the future to ensure life would never be a struggle.

Jose’s brother, Minu was 14 and nothing like Jose.  Dedicated to his study, he planned to be a doctor and was not especially interested in sport.  Jose learned quickly, that he was no use when it came to helping Minu with his school work, as any attempt usually ended in Jose being explained the details of a particular subject.

Both boys had a healthy respect for each other without spending too much time together.  They played a game of cricket every couple of weeks, more to discuss what was going on in their lives than anything else.  Neither brother specifically liked cricket.  Which separated them from practically all other Indian boys who loved anything to do with cricket and hero worshipped the great Indian, Australian and English players.

Jose was fortunate he had been raised in Goa.  Soccer was a way of life to Goans, which contained four teams in the Indian National League. The Goan State League was the first fully professional competition in the country.  Jose had been invited to trial for Churchill Brothers, a local State League team, with the hope of entering their junior ranks the following season.  He had been reluctant to make the step up in grade any sooner as he believed playing for his village on the rough dirt pitches with questionable refereeing would make him a better player.  Many people had tried to sway his opinion, including recruiters from the other strong Goan teams: Salgaocar and Dempo.  Jose listened to their promises but would only sign for Churchill Brothers, the team he’d supported since taking his first toddling steps.  He had wonderful memories with Margao, but needed to advance and join those fighting for professional contracts. 

Farley and Jose lived in the same area and were walking slowly home, high on the satisfaction of a win against Colva.  They joked about how dejected the Colva boys would be for the coming week. As they rounded the corner into their street, a high pitched scream shook them from their reverie!

That was Mary, something is wrong. Gasped Jose and he ran toward his sister’s cries.

Mary rushed from the house; she met Jose in the middle of the road - DADDY IS DEAD JOSE! DADDY IS DEAD! Jose grabbed her shoulders firmly - What do you mean? What’s the matter with daddy?

Mary’s chest heaved as she fought for breathe.  Her words were barely coherent -Daddy is dead Jose...heart attack.  Mary’s words trailed off into a defeated hush.

Jose released Mary and sprinted into the family home, his thoughts racing, Mary must have been mistaken, daddy was probably just sick, a heart attack - impossible for the man who could carry a son on each arm and Mary on his shoulders.  He was the solid rock on which the family was built.

As Jose entered the living room his worst fears materialized.  His father was lying on the sofa in a manner foreign to Jose, arms folded across his chest and his feet raised on a cushion.  His mother sat by his side and a man Jose recognized as Dr.  De Souza was standing beside them. 

Dr. De Souza approached Jose with his head bowed - Your father suffered a fatal heart attack.  We did all we could for him, I’m very sorry.

Jose, looked at his mother, life drained from her face, then at his father who was pale and eerily motionless.  How could the two people he loved so much be reduced to this? Just hours earlier they had wished him luck and beamed with pride as their son was doing what he loved.  His father ... a heart attack? The man could build house by himself and repair anything, but he could not be repaired, he was dead.

Jose put his arm around his mother’s shoulders and placed one hand on his father’s chest.  He felt himself blending into the scene he had just witnessed, the air was drawn out of his body and his spirit sank. 

Mummy... Jose fought for words, but there none.

Several minutes passed before Mrs. Fernandez mustered the self control to speak.  Grabbing Jose’s hand, she looked into his eyes - A great man has been taken from us today, there will be no more of his love, his laughter, his encouragement or his advice, and our world will change.  I hope you’ve been a good listener.

Minu and Mary embraced Jose; their tears soaked his shoulders as he held them. 

Why daddy? Mary sobbed.

Why is this happening to us? Minu whispered.  Neither could comprehend what happened to their father, or why death had chosen to visit their tiny place in the world. 

Jose consoled his younger siblings; offering no answers to their questions as he failed to understand the concept of death.  His only experience with death came when at eight years of age, a goldfish he had acquired, passed away.  Jose had never known a human being who had died, let alone seen a dead body.  Jose was not prepared for death; the sadness hurt him physically.  He had spent the past 18 years growing up like a big balloon, swollen with energy and youthful exuberance, only to feel the cruel needle of death pierce a hole in his side and all life to escape.

The following days were incredibly difficult for Jose and his family.

Many people called by to offer their condolences; Jose didn’t know some of them.  His father was genuinely loved by many people; they all praised Mr. Fernandez and were sorry for the family’s loss.  The feeling of remorse accompanied Jose everywhere, like a shadow. It tucked him into bed at night, interrupted his dreams and on the occasions it permitted him to sleep, was present immediately he woke.  No matter whom he spoke to or wherever he went, a heavy hollow emotion dragged the spirit from him like a newly acquired curse.  What had Jose done to deserve this, all he did was love his father. 

Jose’s admiration for his mother grew, he observed the brave way she handled the tragic loss.  Unflappable in the face of endless people wanting to relate their favorite story about Peter Fernandez.  Jose watched his mother shed tears and reminisce with every relative, family friend or acquaintance that came through their door.  She would offer herself to some for an hour or two, then repeat the process for new arrivals.  The procession of well wishers went on all through the day for two weeks.  People relieved themselves of their grief, and then departed to play with their children or visit the nearest place of worship to pray they would never find themselves in such a predicament. Mrs. Fernandez dealt with the next mourning soul. 

Jose knew his father would have been proud of her and was sure his mother was still conducting herself with her husband’s opinion in mind. Jose wondered what his father would have thought of the events that followed his death.  Surely, he would have been amused and touched by some of the stories that were told. Jose learned a lot about people and the way they respond to death and how strangely enough, a person’s life seemed to reach greater heights after they died.  Jose constantly felt like saying - Why didn’t you tell him that when he was alive?  When he heard sorrowful visitors describe what a beautiful man Mr. Fernandez was, or how they hadn’t told him how much they appreciated him.  Jose vowed to let his opinions be known to all his loved ones and not to suppress his feelings. He wanted to make the most of every day as he continued to try and please his father, even if he wasn’t a physical presence. 

After two weeks there were fewer visitors.  This pleased Jose, as the only people who could understand the way he was feeling were his mother, Mary and Minu.  His siblings needed extra support from their elder brother.  They spent their nights sitting around the table looking at family photographs and reminiscing about the man who had been the backbone of their lives.

It took three weeks for the pain to begin to leave Jose’s body.  His life would never be the same and the tragedy of losing his father would always be present but he started coping and recommenced his daily routine, which meant...trips to the beach. 

It was late April and the feeling in the air indicated a hot summer ahead. Temperatures had been above average for the time of year and there were more than the normal number of tourists sunning themselves on the sparkling beaches.  With the monsoon season approaching Jose wanted to make the most of these days.  He yearned to mix with people who weren’t embracing him or telling him his father was a great man and offering advice. 

One ideal day, Jose sat on the beach and surveyed the scene; families with little children, romantic couples and backpackers, all enjoying themselves.  Jose thought that some of them must have suffered similar losses.  How did they feel? Obviously they had recovered, enough at least to be holidaying in Goa.  Laughing with the locals, eating the delicious seafood and enjoying the many festivals on offer.  This gave Jose confidence, he would eventually feel like a regular person again and his life would return to normal. 

He hadn’t played football since the Colva game and was missing the camaraderie.  He also missed his friends, where laughter was the main aim and each boy attempted to outdo the other in the telling of a story.  These thoughts brought a smile to Jose’s face and he recognized that the day’s trip to the beach had helped immensely in the healing process. He now had a desire to get back to the things he enjoyed and wanted desperately to play as much football as he could before the wet season.

As Jose walked along the beachfront he noticed a man and woman sitting on the ground with an old creased newspaper next to their heavily laden backpacks.  They were upset.  The front page of the newspaper contained a photograph of the American president, George W Bush. Jose inquired if everything was alright.  The man raised his head and said - Our country is at war.

With Iraq replied Jose, catching the man’s American accent.

We have been in Nepal and out of touch for two months.  We were hoping it wouldn’t have come to this, we’re just shocked.

I don’t really understand war or the need for it.  I hope it’s over with quickly. Jose said.

We’re with you there buddy.  It’s hard to imagine war when you look out over this beautiful beach.

Don’t be fooled.  We’ve had our share of problems over the years. Try and enjoy the rest of your time in India. Jose replied.

Thanks man.

Jose turned and walked away, not wanting to prolong the conversation and preferring to let the couple come to terms with their actions of their country alone.  He had been morose for too long and decided to raise his spirits and get on with his life.  Talking about war was not on the agenda, no matter how nice the two backpackers were.

Jose walked through the front door of his house and noticed a different ambiance, there was a brighter feeling.  Curtains were open that had been closed for three weeks and a pretty vase of mixed flowers sat on the living room table.  Mrs. Fernandez had made a similar decision to lift the family out of the gloom that had held them prisoner.

The house had taken on a totally different look.  Everything was clean, there were fresh fabrics spread over the sofa, a colorful rug now covered the floor and new pictures were hanging in the narrow hallway leading to the kitchen.  It was a small house but it had been the only home Jose had known and it delighted him that his mother had rejuvenated their surroundings.  He was even tinged with guilt for spending the entire day at the beach and not being on hand to assist in what was symbolically a major renovation.

You’re just in time young man. Jose heard his mother call from the kitchen. He found Minu and Mary sitting at the table and his mother serving rice onto four plates.

You know I’d never miss dinner mother.  You’ve been very busy I see.

I had some help from your uncles and aunts but it was necessary.  This place had to be somewhere we wanted to live, not a shrine. Jose noticed his mother’s sharpness had returned, she seemed lively and back to her normal self.  If he displayed a similar attitude Minu and Mary would follow and life would start again.

Sorry I wasn’t around to help but I had a similar day. Watching all the people at the beach made me realize life must go on and I didn’t want to be left behind.

Jose looked at his brother and sister as he spoke.

Daddy would want us to be strong and do the best we can. Offered Minu as his dinner was placed in front of him.

We need to look after each other. Mary said who was very thankful to have two brothers, particularly Jose who was her guardian against all she identified as evil.

Fine sentiments indeed and very important after what we’ve been through children. Declared Mrs. Fernandez, but Jose could sense there was more on her mind; all attention was diverted from the dinner to Mrs. Fernandez who continued - It is imperative we help each other and return to living.  However this doesn’t put food on the table, clothes on our backs and a roof over our heads.  Your father and I had not planned for this. We don’t have enough money to maintain our lifestyle and standing in the community.

Jose realized how naive he had been.  What his mother was about to say may be difficult for him to accept.

It’s now up to you to support the family Jose.  You have finished school, Minu and Mary must keep studying, and we will be relying on you now.

How could this thought have eluded him?  It was all well and good to come to personal milestone decisions to re ignite your life where it had been stalled and get on with things.  But what did that mean...get on with what?  Jose had no prospects other than occasional work in a resort, but that wouldn’t start until the rainy season had come and gone.  Trials for a football contract remained several months away.  The competition would be tough with no guarantee of a contract.

I have the football trials coming up and I’ll try and pick up more shifts at the resort Jose was attempting to appease his mother.

Both these things are months away, we cannot get through the rainy season without any income.  Besides, you know as well as I do, the football is not definite and the resort is part time at best. We cannot rely on that.

I’m going to be a great footballer mother, maybe the best India has ever produced. Churchill Brothers will offer me a contract and I will take care of you, Mary, and Minu.

I know you will darling, but we don’t have time to wait for the trials and what if you get hurt? There is too great a risk, something we cannot afford.

Jose knew better than to disagree with his mother, especially when she was right.  He couldn’t guarantee an injury wouldn’t occur and Churchill Brothers would offer him a lucrative first year contract.  It was all speculation, his mother wanted to see money in the bank and food on the table.

It sounds like you have something in mind mother. Minu felt his mother was leading Jose to a point of no return.

Is that true mother? Jose asked, annoyed that Minu had detected their mother was cornering Jose.

I believe in your ability as a footballer and I know that someday you will achieve your goals but in the weeks and months ahead your family needs you.  We will require you to supply the very basics of life. Mrs. Fernandez raised her voice slightly, ensuring her children sensed the importance of what she was saying.

I understand my responsibility mother.  What is your plan? Jose feared what was about to be said.

Your uncle Ivan, informed me of jobs available immediately overseas...in Kuwait.  He knows somebody who has signed up and leaves in one week. Mrs. Fernandez was relieved to have finally said it.  She knew Jose would have difficulty coming to terms with the decision but it was the only answer.  She had insisted on all her children having up to date passports - just in case had been her reasoning.

Jose was dumbstruck...Kuwait he kept replaying his mothers’ voice inside his head.  He realized many Indians traveled overseas to work as labor for large companies.  It was not a direction Jose had ever thought his life would take.  Visions of earlier in his day returned to him and how happy he was.  He recalled the newspaper and the conversation with the American backpackers.

Isn’t there a war going on there? Jose uttered in a fearful tone.

Do you think I would send you to a war zone son? Especially somebody else’s war.  The war is in Iraq, not Kuwait, besides America will not let this go on for long, they’re much too powerful.  It certainly won’t spread to Kuwait. Jose valued his mother’s opinion; she was knowledgeable, wise and could always be trusted.

The war is actually over now mother, America has control of Iraq. Minu professed, wanting to share his knowledge of current events with the family.

I know this may take you a while to get used to Jose. I tried to see another way around our situation but I cannot.  I will take you to the personnel agency tomorrow to register.  I’m sorry, this is our only option. Mrs. Fernandez was extremely saddened by the situation.  She had tossed and turned for weeks on the question of how the family would survive.  With two young children at school it was not possible for her to work, especially in her 50’s.  The only answer was for Jose to support them.  He couldn’t hope to earn enough in Goa, particularly without skills or qualifications. The money on offer to work abroad was attractive and more than enough to care for the family.  Mrs. Fernandez wanted to hold their position in the community, it was extremely important to her.  She was sure the children may not appreciate it, but she knew if they slipped down the social ladder, even slightly, life would become terribly difficult.

What time will we be leaving tomorrow mother? Jose was toying with his meal he’d been looking forward to eating.

The agency opens at ten o’clock; I want to arrive early, there is no time to waste, we will leave here at nine o’clock.  Please remember the thoughts you brought to the table.  It is time to move on but it won’t be easy.  Finish up your dinner and enjoy the clean linen you will sleep on tonight. Again hiding her sadness, Mrs. Fernandez remained stoic to her children.  She had never imagined sending her eldest son off to the Middle East.

Jose fought through the remainder of his dinner wanting to please his mother.  She was correct; it would take him a while to get used to the idea of working in Kuwait and he wasn’t sure he had much time. 

After dinner, Jose walked to the nearby house of long time friend Sasha Ferreira.  Sasha was Jose’s age; the pair had grown up together.  They had shared each other’s joys and disappointments without ever considering how close they had become.  Whenever either had a problem they sought the counsel of the other.  Sasha had continued her studies and had moved onto University.  She wanted to manage one of the local resorts in the future.  She was extremely bright and very pretty.  Long dark hair that Jose annoyingly tugged when they were younger now held him hypnotized when it glistened in the sun.  He had always taken her flawless skin and dark eyes for granted; only acknowledging her beauty when it was spoken of by someone else.  Jose was always inquisitive as to the guys Sasha was associating with.  Neither indicated to the other how they really felt, just looked out for each other and were the best of friends.  Sasha had only visited the house once with her parents in the week following the death of Jose’s father.

Jose was greeted  at the door by condolence offerings from Sash’s’ parents and a tentative Sasha who didn’t appear to know how to approach him.  He desperately wanted to speak to Sasha alone and asked her parents if it was possible.  They were given the living room to themselves; Jose felt the enthusiasm from Sasha’s parents for his request.  They felt awkward entertaining someone who recently experienced a family tragedy. 

Jose could still sense Sasha’s tentativeness and tried to put her at ease.

Don’t worry, it’s the same old me Sash.

I can see it’s you, I’m sorry.  I wanted to see how you were doing but mother said I should wait and that you’d visit when you were ready. Sasha fired back defensively.

I thought so.  It’s strange how people treat death; like it’s contagious. Jose liked to show Sasha he’d been thinking.  In this case he’d been through an experience Sasha was fearful of, she was wondering how Jose had coped.

How did you manage, with all those people visiting and talking about the same things over and over again? Jose was relieved to hear her voice, the softness in her eyes enveloped him like a warm bath on a cold day.

It wasn’t easy but mother handled most of it.  She was amazing, answering questions, making cups of tea and sounding interested in each person’s story about daddy.

You must miss him Jose? I can’t imagine how ...

I do, but I’ve just started to feel normal again today, well as normal as can be expected I suppose, that’s why I need to talk to you. Jose hoped Sasha could detect his need for attention.  She didn’t let him down - What’s the matter Jose? You seem upset.

Mother has told me I need to support the family now.  It is my responsibility and I need to work to take care of her, Minu and Mary.  I’m scared Sash.

Jose, your family has no income, you are the eldest and it’s your duty to provide for them.  You will have to grow up quicker than you had planned. Sasha admired Mrs. Fernandez immensely and did not want to step on her toes.

You don’t understand Sash; mother wants me to work in Kuwait. She doesn’t think I can earn enough here in Goa.  Is that fair? Jose was not searching for an opposing view from that of his mother, he just wanted confirmation from the friend he respected most that it was the only option.

Your mother has always done what was right for you, I’m sure she knows what’s best.  It sounds like you’ll be leaving soon.

I’m signing up tomorrow and probably leaving within a week.  There goes my contract with Churchill Brothers. 

Oh rubbish Jose; Churchill Brothers will be here for ever.  The experience you gain in Kuwait will see you walk into a job back here and then try for your football contract.  It might seem like a problem but it will work itself out.  I’ll miss you.  We must open an email address for you before you leave. Sasha proved to be a calming influence and offered a level of reason that sounded so practical to Jose.  It was just what he needed to hear...she would miss him and they would be able to keep in touch via email.  Innocently, Jose believed communication would be simple, reality may prove different. 

Jose soon excused himself.  He thanked and fare welled Sasha’s parents. He smiled at Sasha as they stood on the front door step - I’ll let you know what happens at the agency  I’d like to see as much of you as possible before I leave.

I’ll see to it. The words filled Jose with a happiness he’d never experienced before.

Jose had trouble sleeping that night.  A feeling of duty to his family overwhelmed him.  He had longed to travel overseas, but not under the  circumstances.  He was trying to put the disappointment of a football contract behind him and focus on what his father would have wanted him to do.  Mr. Fernandez had strived to keep the family on the fringe of middle class.  To be responsible for the deterioration of those efforts would not sit well with Jose.  His individual ambition would have to wait if he was to fulfill the requirements of the family. 

Visions of Sasha continued through the night.  Jose woke the following morning in a haze, due to a lack of sleep and the anticipation of a new day that would change his life dramatically.

At precisely nine o’clock Jose and his mother walked out of their house and toward a commercial district several miles away. 

They finally arrived at a nondescript dusty colored building in a part of town Jose was unfamiliar with.  They were early and waited outside for ten minutes until they heard the bell of a nearby church ring out, signaling it was ten o’clock.  Simultaneously a man unlocked the front door of the building.  Jose’s stomach churned as he entered the doorway.  The people were nice and very helpful; they represented the Rainbow Agency from Mumbai who organized boys to work in for large companies in the Middle East.  Jose filled in the required application form and underwent what could best be described as a brief medical examination that his mother paid for.  The promise of the money being returned to Mrs. Fernandez when Jose arrived in Kuwait sounded reasonable.  Jose was poked and prodded by a man in a dusty white coat with cold hands and whose hair was badly in need of a wash.  He looked into Jose’s ears and listened to his chest via an old stethoscope that fell apart during the examination.  The entire process took less than half an hour and Jose was told he would hear within 24 hours if his application had been successful.

Jose and his mother looked at one another as they exited the building, both took a deep breath.  They knew each other had been riding an emotional roller coaster and it was not about to end.  While it seemed like a good idea for Jose to travel abroad and earn a living, it was now just a pen stroke away from happening and Jose’s mother would not only be without her husband but her eldest son.

Mrs.  Fernandez hoped and prayed she was doing the right thing, deep inside she was certain.  That’s what gave her the strength to carry it through.

For 24 hours Jose’s ears were attuned to the sound of the telephone.  After one false alarm that turned out to be his auntie searching for material she left behind the previous day, it came.  The man who helped Jose with his application called to confirm Jose was to travel to the Rainbow Agency in Mumbai in three days where he would await his departure to Kuwait. 

Three days...it was sooner than he expected.  He informed his mother, Minu and Mary.  There was a mixed feeling of enthusiasm and nervousness.  In an effort to mask their trepidation, Jose and his mother joked about the lack of personal hygiene displayed by the man who examined him at the office. 

Jose paid Sasha a visit and the pair also laughed about people they knew and fun times they had experienced together.  Sasha set up an email account for Jose on a computer she used at her uncle’s house.  Jose didn’t understand all the