CAMP FORTY

CAMP FORTY

CAMP FORTY

My childhood friends were once inseparable. We not only grew up together but we were constantly engaged in each other’s in lives. As a result, we thought it swell to have a weekend slumber party, and catch up with one another last Christmas. Moreover, we figured that we should embark on a camping trip for once in our lives, yet not into the woods like real campers do, but house camping, that was close to our beds. Thus, Bena was one of my longtime childhood friends, suggested a pajama party in her ginormous garage for an entire weekend, and since we were three single ladies, we found the freedom to set up tent, and dubbed the experience as Camp Forty, based on the fact that we were all in our forties. As one would expect, all was going well at our friendship camp, where we bonded in our Camp Forty adventure, while we reminisced of the old simple days. Needless to say, the pitch camp escapade was going so well, up until we started getting into each other's personal business, as women tend to do.

Consequently, our conversations turned sour, so much so that after twenty hours into the seventy-two hours of camping, all our claws were out, and ready for a cat fight, making the campsite unfit for habitation. I already knew that our back and forth bickering would happen, right after Bena and Flo went back in time, to the graveyard, to exhume dusty skeletons of their ex-factors, each time the bitter subject of their entanglements with those bad boys. In addition, I dreaded waiting for the mention of the names of some two hoodlums, who Bena and Flo dated eons ago, before a blood bath would ensue. In all honestly, these two hoodlums have always been a subject of controversy since our childhood, and their topic has always been raw and painful to our mouths. In that moment of conflict, time seemed to have frozen, as Bena and Flo's mood became so ice cold toward each other, that I had to call a time out, but before I could put my opinion across to these two rivals, pounced on me with vicious attacks.

At first, I thought that Bena would tear me to pieces and feed me to the wolves, with sheer ferocity. On the contrary, it was Flo who actually turned against me, by spitting venomous words against me. Firstly; she attacked my hair, then my sobriety, next she went for my singletude, before she made a mockery of my new found purpose of being a teacher, by harshly stating that, "At least Bena and I have tasted love and marriage, unlike you Aunty Betty, who is always giving your unsolicited advice to unsuspecting souls." This vile Flo was determined to cut me deep but thank God for my natural shock absorbers, that were matured by years of traumatic life experiences, skilled clap backs, expert come backs, and hardcore stoicism, Lucky for me, I was able to beautifully retaliate and hit back at the crude remarks rendered to me by Flo. As you can you imagine, this dear friend of mine, actually neglected her lucrative career, in order follow some strange fellow, a bohemian kind of a man living in utopia, on some wild goose chase, in the middle of nowhere, with the vision of nurturing wild horses! Are there even wild horses in sub-Sahara Africa? Yet, if there are any horses, I would bet on my new found purpose, that Flo had never seen any type of horse breed with her naked eyes, let alone rode on one.

Well, at least Aunty Betty is a darn near counsellor or teacher for humans. Nevertheless, what does Flo know about horses, except for the ones she has watched on the national geographic channel? Yet, I am very much convinced that Flo’s hipster lover, had brainwashed her into believing that she was some sort of a mystic horse whisperer, called on by the universe to help the endangered species. Perhaps there was a glimpse of the truth to her magical powers. Nonetheless, why could she not also find it in her big heart, to initiate a just cause of helping all the maltreated donkeys parading down her hometown, pulling water carts all day long? At any rate, Camp Forty had melted, became fiery hot, and thus was intolerable for habitancy.

Meanwhile, at that volatile moment, Flo and I had morphed into grim and evil, parading our dirty linen in public, while Bena was screamed at the top of her lungs, in order to stop our verbal fight. No sooner had Bena let out a loud shriek, than we stopped squabbling, perplexed by her thunderous voice, which carried harsh words of rebuke, that unfolded in this manner, “Both of you are worse than children! You Flo, are a sucker for love, and you Betty, are a lonely coward!" To put it briefly, Bena’s critical words to Flo and I were raw, uncensored, and cut deep like a knife. Nonetheless, what did she mean when she said that I was a coward?

However, before I got the chance to speak, Flo leaped on Bena like a savage, throwing shade and pouring all her tea on the ground, with such cruelty that I was taken aback by her mean streak, and derogatory words to poor Bena, which threatened to rip their friendship apart. "All you know to do Bena, is give birth to children, sit home, to watch Telemundo, and wait for your ex-husband to send your monthly support check. I mean, have you ever worked a day in your life?!" That statement directed to Bena by Flo, was a low blow that even Flo felt miserable, soon as the statement left her mouth. The truth was that with six children, Bena was forced by circumstances to become a stay home mother, while her former husband went to work. But soon enough, the very famous doctor fell in love with the house help, divorced Bena, and married the young uneducated lass, all to our shock. Since then, it had been over twelve years but still, who can ever easily forget being dumped by a rich man, for a village girl?

All in all, why is it that we females cannot behave like males do, forgetting about silly old grudges, and fist pumping to the new times? Instead, we women hold grudges for years, and always looking for any opportunity to bring them up every time our super egos are challenged. Dear God, sometimes I despise the company of women, for it draws me back to those high school days, whereby there has to be the leader of the pack, and everything else was a competition. Well, I guess after that wild exchange we had among us three, we were forced to decamp, went our separate ways, and slid back to our boring lives. So much for a lasting friendship. Perhaps the next time we do decide to talk to one another like human beings, it would be over drinks, when one of us loses their pride, and invites the rest of us for a healing soirée.