So here I am, on Easter Saturday morning, sitting in the most uncomfortable position possible in a locker, in one of my numerous rooms, trying to avoid getting caught by the law and management of the school. Three things roam through my mind: How in hell, did I get to this point?! Stabbing is an art and the meaning of Easter is finally lost to me. I am constantly hoping that in this swirl of chaos, I can find a way to combine these things to make sense out of this my pitiful predicament. To do this, I’ll probably have to delve into the past to find out where it all went south. The truth to the present and future lies in the past.
Going back a few years, I remember the previous Easter periods. They were always exciting; always meeting new people at retreats and finding myself arguing one of the days, about the death of Jesus and its implications and meaning. It was a time of liberation for me, a time where I was not tied to my parents at church programs. It was even the only time I really loved going to church to hear a different twist or new insight into the significance of Easter. Here, I did not about the Easter bunny or that he brought painted eggs; those were foreign concepts to me, I did not care for them. All I knew was I was enjoying the Easter with the large group of people who shared the same beliefs with me about Jesus. It was always exciting.
Fast forward a bit into college, I was tossed into a different world altogether, one which did not bring fun to Easter as I had previously known. My first Easter here was a torment; I was made to trek for a distance to a place I did not like, to listen to slight deviations from my usual Easter messages and ultimately, to suffer horribly. I listened to a 2-week leadership program which slightly broached on the topic of Easter. I was pissed off, I was mad, I was angry. I vowed never to go for anther Easter program like this. I remember the first time I stabbed an Easter program. I cowered in fear, hiding in a contorted and very uncomfortable position in a locker; I had sweat dripping from every pore in my body, my sweat glands secreted more than I could handle, parts of my body went dead from epileptic blood supply, I was highly uncomfortable yet it was a small price to pay in exchange for not having to undergo Easter torment again. I smiled in that locker as the rebel in me agreed that this was fun and was going to continue for a long time to come. No more Easter service, Goodbye Easter.
Now, I’d like to deviate a bit and talk about the art of stabbing. Stabbing can be defined as a situation where the rebel in you chooses to forgo attending compulsory program and stay behind in your room, even if it is to your uncomfortability or your detriment. Now, stabbing is not limited to your room alone, in fact it is everywhere apart from the venue of the program you are supposed to attend. Now, the most common place to stab is in a locker but others include the bathroom or toilet, under a bed, the ceiling, health centre, anywhere that is not the chapel or a classroom. Now, to be a stabber, you have to be extremely bold and confident because those traits are needed during a search. Now, during a search, all manner of things would be made to scare you and make you come out, you have to realize that they are just bluffing, and that if you have done your hiding right, they cannot see you. There are also other things you needed; sharp reflexes to move to a different location, if need be, in super quick time, mental alertness to be able to hear them coming and deduce their position, the ability to stay still once you have chosen your stabbing position so you do not make noise and give yourself away and if you cannot stab alone, choose the right partner. Now, I cannot really say much more because my knowledge in this field is limited (I still have those I look up to and call sensei) but, based on the little knowledge I have garnered, these should be able to help you out for a bit.
Moving on to the present where I am still contorted horribly in a locker in an undisclosed location, I hear footsteps but I know if it is a search, it is not serious as these ones lack the aura of seriousness but treading on the path of caution, I still secure myself in the locker, knowing that stupidity has given many people away. My two feet are dead, my left elbow is weeping and some of my joints are cursing at me yet I pay no heed. I still think about the Easter service I am missing but it does not bother me anymore; after four years of stabbing Easter services, the meaning of Easter was finally lost to me. It just became a day to avoid a really annoying service. Every Easter service that came from my second year in college till now always took place in my room or in one locker. I still know Jesus died around this period but I do not hear the messages I used to enjoy or argue those enlightening arguments anymore. I am just hanging in some form of limbo. I hear footsteps and voices and know it is time to leave the locker, Easter service is over…