FAITH Vs. FATE

An Interview With Shaun Stephenson

On her biography, FAITH Vs. FATE, The Shaun Stephenson Story         

_________________________________________________________________                                 INTERVIEWER: 
 

INTERVIEWER:
Ms Stephenson…

SHAUN: 
You can call me Shaun…

INTERVIEWER:  
Shaun…If I had a penny for every time I heard someone say, “I can write a book about my life…” I’d be a rich woman today. …It’s a thing people say —like to say. But you… you went a step further: You told yourself that you were going to get your story written, and now your book is actually being written. How did that come about? How did things move from a thought to your book being in its first draft?

SHAUN:  
Truthfully, I really didn’t feel I had a story to tell —or wanted to tell… Why would mine be different? As years went by, however, I began to experience more in life’s journey… Then at one point in my life and I came to a turning point, and I embarked on a forty-day fast—

INTERVIEWER:  
FORTY DAYS!

SHAUN:  
Yep! … And during that time of spiritual awakening… —spiritual renewing, an inner voice gave me the name of the book… Faith Versus Fate. After that revelation it still took me a few days of self-searching —soul-searching to convince myself that what I had gone through thus far in my life’s journey was worthy of being documented. … I can only say that there was something greater than me that required my story should be told. So I said to myself, okay…I’m going to write my story in the hope that it would bring some sort of hope…inspiration to others.                                                                                                                                        

INTERVIEWER :  
This is something I must ask because it intrigues me very much…                                                 

SHAUN: 
  Okay…

INTERVIEWER:  
You currently live in the Mantua, New Jersey where, I’m sure you could have found a writer. As a matter of fact you do know Richard Hay, the author of “Out Of My Mind And Back To My Senses.” You know him very well. He is a friend of yours; he offered to write your story. Instead, however, you chose  Harold Bascom—and I did my research—a Caribbean novelist and playwright who live way over in North New Jersey in a city named Hackensack. How did that come about? 

SHAUN:               
Harold Bascom is actually from my country. …How come he’s writing my book? … It’s a long story. …

INTERVIEWER:  
This is your time. You can tell it…

SHAUN:        
  That’s too long a story in itself —truly. I will say, however, that it must have been Divinely intended that Mr. Bascom author my story. Back in Guyana, South America where I was born, Harold Bascom was a literary icon and a very popular playwright. He was a household name. I had met him almost eighteen years ago through a mutual friend in connection with a book that my then fiancé—and now husband—was writing. But that was eighteen years ago. But then earlier this year—2007—my husband made a reconnection with Mr. Bascom in New Jersey where he had migrated. I spoke to Mr. Bascom about a book I needed to get written, and he said he’d help me. As to why I agreed to let him do it instead of another writer. …Well he comes from my country, and as such I knew he would understand my experiences and articulate them as a writer.

 INTERVIEWER:  
Tell us how you work together? For example, does he ask you to tell your story while he records you…does he call you on the phone with questions…does he spend time at your home the way Alex Haley did when he was writing Malcolm X’s story?

SHAUN:    
He does in-depth interviews with me on a tape recorder, and those interviews are truly in-depth. Because he’s utilizing a sort of fictional structure within the book along with a dramatic structure, he tends to ask very detailed questions. For example he would say to me: “Okay, I want you to tell me about that day you flew from Oklahoma back to New Jersey, and I want it in detail: Who woke you up? Was it your mom, your aunt or some sort of alarm system? When you opened your eyes what did you see —did you see the window…the walls? Where was your mom? Where was your aunt? What was each doing? Was somebody going in the bathroom —coming out of the bathroom? What were you hearing? Was there any sounds from the hotel hallway —from outside on the balcony? —Details, I want details if I’m to re-create the scene, okay?”

INTERVIEWER:  
Wow. …Back up a bit…you said he uses some sort of dramatic structure in the manuscript? What do you mean?                                                     

 SHAUN:            
  At specific parts of the book he would insert actual interviews he did with me. For example you would come across interview transcripts that look like the pages of a play script, you know…BASCOM: and what he asks me; SHAUN: and what I said in response, complete with directions like “with a shrug” —stuff like that…                                              

 INTERVIEWER:  
So, how soon will it be on the bookshelves?                                                          

SHAUN:       
Mr. Bascom told me that it would take approximately two years to get it finished. He actually began writing the manuscript around March of this year —2007. We’re into August 2007. This is only around six months, and he has other projects on his plate. He’s working to get the first draft completed by the end of this year. I can only make a guess that Faith Vs. Fate would be on the shelves by the fall of 2008…                                                

 INTERVIEWER: 
  So then, readers who had a taste of it in your feature that appeared in your cover story for the Summer/Fall 2007 Special Edition of Wealth Creations Magazine… Would you say they have a long time to wait to read more?                                                          

SHAUN:      
Not necessarily…Mr. Bascom has agreed to let me publish excerpts from the manuscript in progress, in my MYANDA SOLUTIONS blog.  You can read excerpts from Faith Vs. Fate on the MYANDA blog right now as a matter of fact, and I hope the excerpts keep readers interested until the published volume is available.

INTERVIEWER:  
And you know I will be reading that! Shaun, it was great talking to you, and best of luck with your book and all your entrepreneurial projects…                                                      

 SHAUN:           
Thank you…

Excerpt:

FAITH Vs. FATE, The Shaun Stephenson Story  

As Told To Harold A. Bascom          

  ______________________________________________________________________                       

 Chapter One…  LOCAL GOLD: AN AMERICAN VISA

Alleged lines from a letter written by a father, newly arrived in America, to his daughter back in his country: “My dear daughter…this place America is heaven!”            _________________________________________________________________

March 2007. Oklahoma, Oklahoma City.  Shaun Stephenson, nee Harry unwinds on the balcony outside of the Best Western Hotel room in which she stays. She’s in The Sooner State with over twelve thousand others in attendance of the Pre Paid Legal Company’s two-day annual convention in Oklahoma City. The night’s proceedings are over; her mother and aunt, who are here with her, are asleep. In Shaun’s heart the day at the convention replays… the new associates she’s met, the friendly executives, the collective euphoria of positivity and hope —the camaraderie: It has been so good today.

She stands on the balcony from her room and looks down at the rectangular patch of still, aquamarine water. Along its longest sides the ever-present poolside chairs are arrayed. Stylised lamps glow at points on the walls enclosing the deserted pool area. The beach umbrellas that seem to grow from the round, glazed tables positioned about are closed. There are no swimmers, only the pool…tranquil like Shaun’s mind as she breathes easily… so calm in her psyche. She closes her eyes.

Her thoughts are miles away…thousands of transatlantic miles away and back to the Northern regions of South America where Guyana her homeland lies close to the vast Atlantic Ocean and the Caribbean Sea. She’s remembering the day she stood outside the U.S. Embassy in Duke Street, Kingston in Georgetown, quietly waiting her turn to be interviewed; and quietly awaiting her fate, she prayed.

Is today the first day of my destiny?

She stood before the window where the Consular Officer waited with piercing blue eyes, an unusual physiological challenge presented itself:  remembering how to breathe calmly.

“What is your career plan?

“What are you doing now—in terms of employment?

“Do you plan to remain in banking? 

“What plans do you have for the future? 

“How long do you wish to stay in the United States?

“When do you plan returning to Guyana? …”

She had been prepared and mixed truth and half-truths skillfully. In the end she convinced him that she was going to return and not destined to be yet another of the tens-of-thousands never to honor the granted temporary visa. She was asked to come back to the Embassy in order to pick up her passport that she had obtained some seven years before. She always believed that one day she was going to be able to travel to the United States.

With her eyes closed above the swimming pool, she remembers… It was more than half an hour of interconnected streets back to the Guyana National Cooperative Bank where she worked as a loans officer. She walked, as if on air, back to her office. Earlier that morning she had sent a message with a co worker to let her boss, Mrs. Sinclair, know that she would be running late for work —that there was something she had to do before she reported in. Mrs. Sinclair had no idea of the business Shaun had to tend to before she came in. When she did at about midmorning her boss looked at her, smiled and said. “You are glowing —happy… —want to share something with me?”

Shaun remembers Anita Sinclair. She was a professional woman with a calm air of efficiency, but yet she was ever pleasant to her staff…so unassuming… so kind. Shaun told her what had transpired and Mrs. Sinclair expressed gladness for Shaun that seemed genuine. “You have to return later to pick up your passport with the visa stamped into it,” she said.

“Yes —at four this afternoon…”

“Don’t worry —I’m going to let you leave early, and I’ll wait until you return, okay? I’m so excited for you, Shaun…”

“I’m so excited for myself, Mrs. Sinclair…thank you …”

“I won’t lie, Shaun!” Sharon, one of her co-workers in the loans department later said to her. “I envy you…this is your opportunity to see the last of this blighted place!”

Another said, “God knows how much you deserve this, Shaun. …This day, I guess, was long in coming. But it’s here… Just don’t forget us!”

She remembers…

It was not the first time she had tried to acquire a visa to the United States of America. A couple of years earlier she thought she was on the threshold of one; she had actually paid a lump-sum of money to a guy who had convinced her that he had ‘links’ in the U.S. Embassy and could have helped her. In the end she got screwed —lost her money and lost the trust of even her relatives whom she had convinced that a visa to the great land of opportunity would be in her passport.

She remembers…

She sat at her loans officer desk and time dragged slowly. She was going to leave for the Embassy soon. It was years after the visa fiasco and the promise of a visa was official. She sat at her desk and refused to entertain any doubts —fears that when she got back to the Embassy anything would be amiss. She was a girl on a mission; there would only be one outcome for her this day: her visa to the United States of America.

When she got there at four that afternoon, a five-year multiple visa was stamped into her passport. She passed her fingers gently over the seal… ever so gently over the seal of the most powerful country on the face of God’s earth and a slight tremor rippled in her sternum. Oh my God it is real!! I have a visa to go to America! She shouted with joy from every pore of her body; she rediscovered true happiness and containing —concealing her deep excitement was a huge task but she succeeded. She struck out for the office where her boss waited. When she got there they celebrated modestly, and then it was time to go home to the man with whom she lived… Carlton…

When she joined the huge ferry that took her to Vreed-en-Hoop—translated from Dutch to mean Peace-and-Hope—she too floated. In her heart she was eager to tell —eager to shout to him even before she entered their home over in the country separated from Georgetown City where she worked, by a wide, muddy river with the name Demerara…but she knew she shouldn’t because he wouldn’t believe her.

So when she disembarked, she did not head on to her home where she lived with Carlton and his mother. She headed to her father’s house. There, she first delivered the news to family and asked her dad to keep her passport safely. When she went home to her man and told him by-the way-sort of, he did not believe and she was not surprised. He, like many others did not let her live down the last time she was burned by a visa scam artist. But she knew what she knew.

That evening she looked around the house in which she lived with Carlton and his mother. … In her heart she knew that soon she would be saying goodbye to every hole in the roof —goodbye to the muddy yard and stand pipe —to the latrine aback with the pit and maggots and dirty water that jumped and touched her bottoms —to the bathroom in the yard that forced her to take baths when it grew dark. She knew she would soon be saying goodbye to the ensnaring poverty from which she had always fought to detangle herself. …

She knew too that soon she would be saying goodbye to Carlton with whom she’d been since she was only thirteen… with whom she became a woman… with whom she lost her first child that had died within her and after which she discovered the indignity of being on her back and lying with her legs open to a strange man — a quack gynecologist performing a dilatation and curettage on a hard table.

She knew however, that once she was in America things would be better for her, for Carlton, and for everyone she cared for. This was going to be her big break and through it she would lead many from a wilderness of economic bondage to America…The Promised Land.

With eyes closed, Shaun Stephenson, citizen of the United States and Certified Identity Theft Risk Management Specialist with Pre Paid Legal Incorporated, remembers… The first person she called overseas was her aunt Claudette who lived in Plainfield, New Jersey. “Aunt Claudette! —I got through! —I got through! —I got the visa!”

“Which Visa, Shaun?”

“I went in to the Embassy and they gave me a five- year multiple visa! … Aunt Claudette? —You there?”

“Yes…I’m here, but the news have me speechless…I-I’m so happy for you, Shaun…”

“So, Aunt Claudette —how soon can I come? Once you tell me I’ll hand in my job resignation at the bank! … —It won’t be any problem! …”

“Well… —Lemme talk to your uncle Gavin and see how things can happen. I’m only now getting my traveling documents in order—you know…”

“Okay…”

“I’ll be coming home this summer and you can come back with me to the States —how that sounds?”

“That sounds good, aunt Claudette!”

“I’m so happy for you…”

But it wasn’t until four months later that her aunt Claudette was able to travel to Guyana with her son Gavin. She had been having some problems with her immigration papers but finally everything was straightened out. It was going to be her first returning after having been twenty-three years over in the United States, and the homecoming was destined to be ever so special.

It turned out to be a grand family reunion for aunt and her American-born son Gavin. There was much music and dancing and the proverbial killing of the fattest calf. At the end of her aunt Claudette’s stay, Shaun would be returning with her to Plainfield, New Jersey where she would help in a family business owned by her aunt’s husband. Going to America at last with her aunt Claudette! This had ever been little Shaun’s dream… a dream so special as far back as she could have remembered.