Nothing Is Too Big - Susan Knapp

Nothing Is Too Big by Susan Knapp

Book excerpt

On my knees

December 2017…

“Maybe you are searching among the branches for what only appears in the roots.” Rumi.

I stepped into the shower cubicle. As I reached to turn on the tap, a spider caught my attention. Its legs were the thinnest of thin - so fine, long and dainty. But what I discovered during the time it took me to shower was the enormous strength and power that those legs held. All that spider wanted to do was reach the top of the tiled area and be on its way. The water flowed over my body, and I watched the spider on its endeavour, curious to see what it would do.

I don’t like spiders very much, and there was certainly no way that I was going to pick it up or remove it. Also, it was in no direct danger because the water was nowhere near.

So, I watched. I do a lot of my thinking in the shower and as such am prone to staying in for quite some time. This habit of mine was certainly not going to help the spider on its mission that particular morning!

The spider took a few steps forward and then stumbled backwards. Again, it attempted to climb the tiled wall, but just like before it slipped back. And so, it continued. A few steps forward and then a few steps back. Not once did it manage to take more than five steps forwards before tripping and stumbling.

As I watched this spider with its legs that appeared to be so fragile and delicate, I felt a surge of empathy for that little spider. That spider was just like me. My whole life had moved forward on legs that appeared to many as weak and not as purposeful as they should be. And then I would stumble backwards. I never stumbled as far as I stepped, although more often than not it felt as though the backwards motions outnumbered the forward moving ones. However, like the spider in the shower, though my legs may have appeared frail and vulnerable, in actual fact they were strong and powerful and there was never any other destination I would reach than the top.

I had conscious memories of being in a physical fetal position for the six years prior to meeting the spider in the shower. Subconsciously, I later realized that I had been energetically in that fetal position for a lot longer.

I remember being curled up in a ball on the floor, protecting myself from the physical and emotional blows that had become a part of my new normal. I had been crushed - physically, emotionally, spiritually, and financially.

By definition of the system, I now chose to live in, I was a bankrupt, single parent pensioner, who had been convicted by an Australian justice system that allowed itself to be manipulated by the one who had abused me. When he walked into that police station in Far North Queensland to file his claim of domestic violence against me, the policewoman asked him if he had ever been violent towards me. His response was, “Not in Australia!” Despite the fact that his statement had raised alarm bells to the police, I had been convicted in court and was currently on a five-year good behaviour bond as the perpetrator of domestic violence. This was against a six-foot two-inch African man who had been a semi professional boxer for the last twenty years.

I can’t remember the number of times I would lie sobbing in my fetal position and he would simply step over me to get to the fridge. He would stretch to put his plate of food into the microwave, whilst I lay there paralyzed, often until morning when I would unroll myself, apply foundation to my face and eyes to make them appear a little less swollen and head into work.

The spider in the shower and I actually had a lot in common. Every day our goal was to reach a higher point than we had woken up to. All we wanted to do was stand on those legs of ours and climb.

On that morning in the shower, I could easily have channeled the water to spray the spider straight down the drain, never to be seen again. But something stopped me. Whilst I was completely and utterly broken at the point the spider and I crossed paths, I had not encountered one single event that had made me want to swirl down the drain and disappear into oblivion. And I wasn’t starting now.

The spider and I were going up.

Both of us were twisting and turning through the navigational patterns of life, putting one foot in front of the other and balancing on legs that had carried weights never designed to be endured by a living creature. But somehow, we had done it! Our resilience had enabled us to reach the top of the shower recess.

I was born on the 12th of May 1970, in a small seaside hospital just outside of Adelaide, Australia. My parents had grown up in the same suburb and had attended the same primary school. As children, my younger brother and I loved looking at the photograph of both our parents making their first holy communion together aged about eight.

Years later, when my paternal grandfather was called by my maternal grandmother to come and repair something at her house, my parents met as young adults. My father had accompanied my grandfather on this trip and on that day reconnected with my mother.

At the age of twenty-one, my mother and father married on a cold August day, in a Catholic church in Adelaide. On their honeymoon cruise to Fiji, my father got seasick, and my mother got pregnant.

I can remember as a child of about ten sitting in the quadrangle at school eating my lunch. My friends and I would sit on the asphalt, our knees almost touching, squeezing vegemite worms through the holes in our salada biscuits and discussing our dreams.

My dream consisted of three very specific parts. The first was to travel to Africa, the second to braid my hair, the third to adopt an African baby girl.

As a family, our regular Easter holidays would usually involve camping or visiting the snow fields of Victoria. I remember having so much fun skiing and just being together. Visits to grandparents were always something we looked forward to. These were simple times that created lifelong memories.

This was the example that I wanted to set for my own children - to create memories that would last them a lifetime. This is something I believe I have achieved. The only difference is that their times have perhaps not been as simple as mine were.

As my university studies finished, I needed to decide what my next step would be.

One evening on the netball court, a teammate said she was heading overseas on a program that included Africa. As this continent had been a deeply embedded dream for me since childhood I didn’t think twice. I was in.

So, I left Adelaide and headed to Africa as a supervisor on a teenage exchange program. This involved approximately thirty Australian teenagers billeted with families in Nairobi and Mombasa.

I had always been a real homebody. I rarely slept at the homes of other people and took solace in being in my own environment. Therefore, I briefly wondered how I would endure the torture of being away from home, but as the trip was only for three months, I believed I would cope.

Twenty-five years later, my journey has taken me to places I could never have dreamt of. Life has put me in situations I would never have thought possible. I have lived in Africa, Asia, and the Middle East. I have been married and divorced. I am a mother to four children - two who did not come from my womb, but are the most cherished children alive and two, who to the surprise of many, I actually gave birth to!

Now, after leaving Adelaide a quarter of a decade ago, it is time to tell my story.

My story of how I was held hostage in Kenya while bullets were flying all around us outside.

My story of how I was held under country arrest in Qatar, banned from leaving, prevented from working, jobless, homeless, and seven months pregnant.

My story of my four children and my move to Rwanda, a country I had always dreamed of.