The Coup

The Coup

We sit on the beach everyday, the expats from America.  We are so grateful and so gleeful as we consume our drinks and talk about frivolous things as the locals wait on us, bringing us food and drinks every day.  Every day we thank our luck stars.

We hear a clamor of distraction.  A huge, new shiny truck is coming down the long, narrow main street.  Crowds are following and the truck stops right in front of us.  It is hauling a second truck behind it, equally as big as this first truck.

A man stands on a platform, on top of the truck. He is handsome, youthful and forceful.  He speaks from a microphone.

“It is a time for a new way to do things.  We must take back our country and live free.  We must all be free.”  People are clapping and everyone is offered a free Coca-Cola or a snow cone.  Children line up and the boys are encouraged to follow a man who leads them in to the second truck.

“Follow this man to freedom”, the charismatic man announces and the boys follow.  After a few minutes, the truck pulls off and then there is a silence amongst all of us as we see the entire haul.  The second truck is now full of young boys from the neighborhood.  And this truck is pulling three rows of rolling chain-linked fences.  Chained to all of these fences are hand cuffed police officers and local politicians.  They are running to keep pace with the speed of the truck.  They are exhausted, frightened and beaten.  And we all now realize that we are in the midst of a coup.

“This is exciting”, Joanne says.  I am filled with disbelief.

“We have to get out of here right now”, I tell her, “it is too dangerous for us to stay”.

“But we are Americans.  They wont hurt us.  It’s the governmental officials they are after.  This is a moment of opportunity for us”, she says confidently.

Mary is befuddled and worried.  She can’t find her husband.  Mothers are running after the truck, trying to retrieve their sons.  But they are pushed away by large men who stand guide of the truck.

I tell Joann that I am leaving.

“Where are you going?” she wants to know.

“I don’t know, maybe back to Pennsylvania to be with my family”.

“This is your home.  You can’t go back to Pennsylvania; it’s over there.  There is nothing left there for you.  This is you home now”, there is a tone of annoyance in her voice.

I leave her and begin to make a mental list of everything I must do right now to get out of here.  When I arrive at my home, there is a large man’s shoe on the lawn.  I run inside and see that someone has placed several men’s dress shirts in my closet.  There is a shiny, black SUV in my garage.  Some of my things have been thrown out in the yard.  Someone has taken over my house.  I look and see other shoes in other people yards and realize this must be the symbol that this house has been confiscated in the coup.  This house belongs to them now.  I have to get out of here now.

I begin to back my bags but I am wearing mittens that make it difficult to use my hands. I try to take them off.  But they are much too tight.  I struggle and struggle and cant figure out why I cant take them off.  Then I realize that it is July.  I had been at the beach since January and hadn’t realized that the seasons had changed and the times had changed as well.  Now my hands are swollen from the heat and I can’t take my damn mitten off.  As I struggle and struggle, I feel an unconscious energy surge through my body, making every effort to wake me from this awful nightmare.

Suddenly, I feel a jolt. My head snaps and I look around the room. Everything is silent and calm but my heart is racing as I try to figure out what is going on.  Is this real or was I just dreaming?