When a child is born, it takes a whole village to raise them. Or so they say, somewhere in the world. But what happens when the village is not there, and a mother finds herself saying: ‘If that is true, then I am my son's village’?
When Solomon J. was born, he had plenty of curious visitors, but no one really stayed. Pamela, who could go to a funeral and still struggle to hide her high spirits, calls it a ‘town of dead dogs’. Yet even in such a town, motherhood can hold a beauty of its own, even when the life a mother and child share is surrounded by profound loneliness.
There is a look that some children learn early to recognise: a portrait of desolation and barrenness in the eyes of those who raise them. As little ones, they have not yet gathered enough sadness to decipher it; they only learn, taking no pride in it, to read the pain of an invisible people.
Those who have learnt that code see the world of women with different eyes, especially those who are unloved, those who are isolated, those who carry too much or ask too much, and can recognise the unique magic of their children. These children are sometimes born of loves defeated from the start, crumbled and scattered, yet children who shine with the same light in the world. Luckily, their carefree spirits keep them from noticing the awkwardness in the barely hidden smiles that betray other parents' hypocrisy. Nor do they sense how secretly unwelcome they are thought to be in the most ordinary moments, such as the usual birthday invitations or afternoons spent playing. And so they grow up, schooled and saved through the lens of their lone mothers' love, or rather, of their ‘Sunmamas’. But you will understand that name later.
Little Solomon J. needed a mythology of the absent to learn about the places where some grown ups get lost, playing hide and seek in life. Through an incredible journey, he will discover the nature and truth of those who are part of his path, whether he likes it or not. He will understand that the maps his parents have followed do not lead to his own destiny.
He will discover that every child's only true mission is, in the end, to seek what is best for them. And that will finally free him from an unspoken question that weighs like a boulder on his days: if I find Dad, will he stay?
This is a story for humble, grounded people, and therefore for all those whose lives have not yet become ossified, because it takes a soul to read a story like this to a child.
It gives grown ups the task of becoming strong bridges between reality and magic, able to keep the wonder safe and recognise the light that shines through every child. You will see that, in the end, truth is a story told in two voices: one may stay silent, while the other may strike you as right, and fit to tell a child.
May beautiful thoughts take us far.
Pepileni, The Story That Gives Back · English edition