The Columbia River holds great significance in my life. Here was my first home away from home. I wrestled with black widow spiders and rattle snakes. I bought freshly caught salmon from Native Americans. I learned how to drive a car. On this river’s banks I found first love after my gender change operations. Above all I learned that instead of black and white, our world is made up of thousand shades of grey. At the mighty Columbia is where the nomad in me awoke.
At one point we all switched off our torches and sat silently in the dark. I could feel the weight of the mountain on my shoulders, breathed the dense earthy atmosphere around me with heightened senses. Since then I know that I need the open sky above me, need to feel a fresh breeze caressing my skin. Life is trial and error. We need to explore in order to find our way.
Traveling eight weeks through Micronesia and the Philippines my friends and I came to Palawan. We took the local bus from El Nido to Sabang and spontaneously hopped on top, following the locals’ example. For nine hours we sat up top, the wind whipping into our faces. My ass hurt like never before, being perched on luggage or metal rods all day long. We focused forward to not be beheaded by low hanging branches and power lines. The cars in front of us whipped up clouds of dust that clung to our skin. The bus raced through forests, and along dusty mountain roads. Local children screamed in delight when they saw us sitting on top, waving at them with huge grins on our faces. Everything smelled earthy and fresh. It was an unforgettable, vivid experience. I felt so incredibly happy and alive!!
My math teacher in high school once asked me why I wore leather jackets in his classroom; what was I protecting myself from? I laughed at his question and answered something stupid. Truth is that for a very long time I needed the strong smelling leather around me. I was too homeless, too desperate, and found solace behind the walls of my leather shell. I was always strong, always a survivor. The only difference to then is that now I am conscious of my strength. I feel comfortable and safe within myself.
Very true. As much as I am telling myself to enjoy the process, it is a daunting task. I am moving along at a snail’s pace whereas writing my 1st draft flowed like a powerful river. Well, I have always loved a good challenge, so on we go.
My friends had amazed me with their frequent visits and heartfelt gifts. I had received flowers, poems, a pink stuffed animal pig, and most importantly an overwhelming amount of love and support. As the little pig watched over me I slowly came to through a very thick fog. Psychologists had warned me that the actual moment of waking up to my body being radically altered combined with the pain might be quite a lot to handle. I instinctively looked down – and all I felt was relief and happiness. Step by step the walls of my life long prison began to crumble…
First Draft Sneak Peek No. 4
Something had shifted in my life. Taking care of my parents had awoken a need for responsibility. I became active in a local bird watchers club. When I was fifteen I founded the youth section of the club and we became part of a nationwide German environmentalist group. I spent my free time organizing weekend events. We did cleanups in our local forests, guarded falcons nests during the nights to deter poachers from stealing the young birds and selling them to Arab sheiks. We built fences along highways to help frogs cross the streets safely during their migration. We watched and identified animals and helped people convert their gardens into natural habitats. My group wasn’t big but we were a dedicated little gang. During school vacations I went camping throughout Germany. It felt good to belong. Within this group of environmentalist nerds who dedicated their free time trying to make a small difference I did not seem quite so odd.
During this time I came in contact with other cultures for the first time. One year the environmentalist society organized a summer camp between youth activists from Germany and Malta. I was enchanted by the intense two-week experience. My heart opened and I knew I needed to make the whole world my playground. Germany alone was far too small to be satisfying. I sensed beauty, and magic. Thankfully, after all that had happened, I was still curious about the world and keen to socialize with people.
My strange childhood with its constant uprooting and emergencies had molded me into an individual with advanced social skills. I cared deeply, approaching others with non-threatening compassion. I instinctively knew how to fit in, sensing how to make people feel comfortable, make them laugh and feel safe.
I remember many years ago first reading this enchanting poem by Robert Frost. It lodged deep in my heart and has become one of my major inspirations. Less traveled by it is dear Robert.
For a long time my scars made me feel very self-conscious. For many years I dreamed of getting a tattoo. After my surgeries I waited even longer than planned to approach a tattoo artist. I didn’t want to get a work of skin art for the wrong reasons. Rather the tattoo should mark the occasion of celebrating my body as it was. Finally in 2002 I approached a tattoo artist specializing in Polynesian designs. While we plotted and designed, she asked, “So do you want me to hide your scars?” I was so happy to be able to reply with conviction and with a smile, “No, that will not be necessary.”
First Draft Sneak Peek No. 3
The staff accommodation set up was very amusing. I was reminded of Alcatraz as Judith showed me A-Block, B-Block, and C-Block as each small accumulation of staff rooms was called. My solitary confinement dwelling was located in C-Block, a long L-shaped building with many small doors, leading to very small rooms. Judith and her partner Rowan had secured an air conditioning unit for my little sanctuary. Some other people were bound to leave soon. I hoped to scrounge a few pieces of furniture and decorations from them. As I stood in the doorway of C-7 I realized that there wasn’t much need for decorations since there was hardly any space for them. Each of our rooms was about six square meters, with barely enough room to squeeze between the queen-sized bed, night table and wardrobe to reach the bathroom door.
The bathroom was a tiny but cozy space, about three square meters, with a simple shower head sticking out of the wall like a periscope, an old toilet bowl, a small sink, rough crumbling walls, and a corrugated iron roof covering only half of the space. The uncovered half of the bathroom was open to the equatorial sky, the ground left in its original sandy state. A tropical tree grew inside the bathroom, opposite my narrow shower area, the branches reaching far above the C-Block roof. I was enchanted and felt instantly at home.
Over the months I realized that as idyllic as it may be to have a tree growing out of your bathroom, it was essentially a convenient natural ladder for assorted island wildlife. Surprise visits from lizards, snakes, rats, gigantic cockroaches, and birds became a regular part of my life. I learned to open my bathroom door cautiously at night, ready to jump backward depending on what critters would be illuminated as soon as I switched on the bathroom light. I also learned to pee and poo in record time since you never knew what would crawl over your feet or fly into your face as you sat contemplating the stars, going about your private business.
Liam Klenk 