A Run For The Hills (2)

            You know that scene in disaster movies, when everyone is trapped in traffic trying to calmly save themselves, while being thoroughly perplexed by the fact that everyone else is doing the exact same thing, thus making all attempts futile?  Well, it turns out, that is EXACTLY what happens in real life as well.  

latimesblogs.latimes.com

chrisrrau.wordpress.com

           Had the Tsunami actually 

hit, we would have been like panicking, flailing, cannibalistic ducks, sitting in a barrel filled with petrol. 

            We'd a been fucked, and looked damn stupid on top.


             Gotta support the local press, but what I hate about the above link (and really all post-tsunami scare journalistic rhetoric) is the blahblahblah, "our government isn't doing enough to prepare for a safe evacuation."  WTF?? The above pictures are from disaster movies, but try googling "disaster movie traffic jam scene" like I first did, and you will be overwhelmed by the pictures of REAL LIFE TRAFFIC JAMS, on an ordinary day, taken in cities all over the world.  Dar-ahem-is a city.  And BY DEFINITION (especially in this day and age) a city is an overcrowded, condensed locale, usually daily inundated with a large mass of migrating persons from nearby towns and suburbs.  Exactly what is the government-ANY government- supposed to do, call Batman? And why are we so surprised that a set of emergency only highways did not pop out of the ground and form into evacuating bridges over our swarming selves to lead us into safety (where OF COURSE there would be jack-in-the-box like five star hotels ready to pop up and receive the masses with free complimentary drinks and extra towels)?

                 I did what everybody else did; I tried to get out and protect my baby; but if shit had gone down, I damn sure wouldn't have wasted what little breath I had trying to blame someone else for it (hence Natural Disaster).  Then again, I'm the protagonist in this fairytale so we all know I would have made it out alive and heroically saved all sorts of people along the way (bumping into my True Love who was is also a hero-like super hot b-.....but I digress).

         
                So-well-I mean-maybe I did indulge a TAD in some melodramatics when my mother initially called me with the news that we were on alert for a possible Tsunami as a result of the recent Earthquake off the coast of Indonesia, but nothing compares to my Little One's propensity for hysterics:  I once misplaced one of my favorite rings; upon mentioning this and starting to casually look for it, Ms V began hysterically crying out to the Lord: "Oh Jesus! Sweet Jesus help!! Help, where is the RING?? Where is it? Oh God, oh Jesus, you LOST your RING!!" and so forth.  To her (and the Lord's) credit, she found it some five minutes later.


        
               We spent about an hour flitting around the house, straining our eyes in the dying light trying to pack, "anything you feel is important to you" in the off chance that we would come home to....well.....no home.  The Little One did not go into hysterics exactly, but her voice did get really high, and soft, and fragile; her eyes, which are already as large as my Owl gizomo-thingy, managed to grow even larger, and she kept apologizing for the oddest things, "I'm sorry I startled you just now; I'm really, really sorry you were startled." and such.  I kept my Zen cool thing and, in the end, she was freakin AMAZING; she even reminded me to close all the windows (wait, when was the last time she was in a Tsunami???) 


             It wasn't until we emerged outside to grab a taxi, that I begun realizing the enormity of what was going on.  It was bright out, but with a consistent rain falling; it was about 6-ish so naturally people were trying to go home anyway.  Swarms of people chose to march down the road to get home on foot, while the rest of us sat in traffic with a barely constrained panic; some poor souls (many hugely pregnant) stood waiting for the public bus-like there was a chance in hell they be home before midnight if they even had the luck of catching one.  Much like my earlier greeting when my daughter arrived, we were all trying to be very adult about the whole thing, and secretly hating it.

THAILAND- novinite.com

             The epiphany of the anticlimactic great escape is finding yourself, after two hours in traffic, some 700 feet away from your house.  And to add insult to injury, while sitting in traffic, all our prized possessions safely stowed in the back of the ghetto van turned taxi we have heroically secured, we watched the rain stop and the streets lights and power come back on.  

INDIA- cdn-wac.emirates247.com

              








               All the while, we'd been communicating with my mother who had (after much scolding mind you) dutifully turned around and was now waiting for us just outside of town to continue the trip with her.    I found myself thinking (.....hoping? I know, terrible) that this was just the calm before the storm and shit was about to get crazzzzy any minute now, but eventually even I had to beg the driver to turn around. Luckily Unfortunately, he didn't speak any English and was stoically determined to complete his drop-off.


              All in all, the hectic frenzy of the failed escape was the final deciding factor.  After all that panic, we needed a little R&R. So to the hills we went.

morogorofamily.blogspot.com

              
              Though her workshop ended Friday, we decided to stick around and go exploring.  My mother and I are kindred spirits in our LOVE for a NATURAL

BEWARE, BEWARE, 

THE CLOUDS ARE FALLING;

ADVENTURE.  








           The Little One is a big sissy spoil-sport......but we tried to not let it get on our nerves too much.  She has a lot to learn.

BE AWARE

              Most notably, on that note, her willful rejection of studying English is still in full effect! I decided, despite my upcoming birthday, the next week would have to begin Operation Boarding School Boot camp!! Spell DISCIPLINE!  

A Run For The Hills (1)

              Nothing like an unexpected adventure to do what a weekend holiday in paradise, followed by some much needed time a part, still could not accomplish: we, three, are finally a bonded, harmonious, peaceful family again (fuck March) Yaaay April!! And all it took was the threat of a tsunami (why didn't I think of that?!?).


              The Little One and my mother arrived a day later than expected (which I should have expected) on Wednesday afternoon.


             I will tell you a secret: part of my anxiety at being away from the Little One, is that a.) she wouldn't miss me b.) she would find she was happier visiting her other relatives that she used to live with when her mother first died, and so my mother would decide to let them take her back c.) she wouldn't miss me AND wouldn't be happy to see me.  


             They came in soaked from the days rain, my mama looked just as shy of me as I was of my daughter, as if she goes through the same anxiety over me (and a tiny part of my mind made a note of this).  The Little One would not look me in eye; she carried a big suitcase and concentrated on trying to bring it in, ignoring my attempts to help her.  My heart did a tailspin and I did all I could to not fall on my knees in anguish.  The art of adulthood: to be falling apart inside, and on the outside, you are exchanging small pleasantries:


    "hiiiii, look you're all wet" (oh my God, she hates me).


     "Here let me help you" (damn it just give me the suitcase, great the driver's watching, can they all see it??)


      "Hi mama. Hi Little One! I missed you! Ohh you're cold, huh? (WHY won't she look at me? what's happened? What's going on?? I've completely FUCKING failed-can't let it show, must not let it show, fuck, fuck, FUCK)


      "Would you guys like some tea?....I said would you like some tea Vannesa?? (Mama says ALWAYS act like nothing is wrong-I HATE being a grown-up!)


             Well, melodrama is in the mind of the beholder. After a cup of tea, a sweet snack, and some Mindful techniques of emotional observation (did I mention I have a therapist now? She's no Guru*, but she is a good dose of "just what I needed"-God Bless!) it occurred to both of us that, "Hey, I actually still love you; and wow! You TOTALLY love me to!" A much needed separation, followed by an equally integral reunion.


             It turned out that, despite some unsettling health concerns that had been the cause for the delay, my mother was only stopping in long enough to take a shower and grab new clothes before hitting the road for an out of town workshop.  There hadn't been any power since the night before and my mother left while the building manager was trying to rectify the problem.


             We sat down to a nice meal of homemade fish and chips (a little indulgence to welcome home my Love); It must have been four o'clock so this was late lunch, early dinner.  I considered maybe taking us to the movies, but the rain (though light) didn't seem to be letting up.  Then my mobile rang; it was my mother......


             "Soooooo, I've just gotten an update on my phone, there was an earthquake in Indonesia and Dar Es Salaam is on alert for a Tsunami."


              The funny thing about me: I need a therapist to navigate the overwhelming pressures of choosing a country to settle down in, getting a job, getting a boyfriend, etc. But give me an unexpected crisis and I'm ON IT, like WHAT! I become all Peaceful and Zen. Let's recap:


 I have no power, no computer, not even batteries in the radio; 
the fridge is semi-stocked (my mother just unloaded a shitload of avocados for me to do I dunno what with so no threat of scurvy); 
I can't swim; 
Everyone I would think to call in Dar will probably be at this out of town workshop-though I probably wouldn't call them anyway; 
my mother spent the night before in the hospital after a severe migraine attack and is now on the road on a four hour journey; 
how come everyone in other natural disaster crisi (crisi? really?-blame spell check on that shit) always seem to have boats?-
I don't EVEN HAVE A BOAT!!

metro.co.uk

DISCLAIMER: Don't get me wrong. I am not in anyway dismissing the horrific, tragic, realities of natural disasters.  I am in no way trivializing the suffering that happens. I am sincerely relating my exact thoughts as I spoke to my mother about what could very well be a life-changing circumstance and looked around our house instinctively trying to spot what could be turned into a flotation device in a pinch.....to no avail.......


             

Your Mother Has Been Caught (3)

 [Update]  I really freaking love this memory. It still teaches me everyday, though it happened years ago.  Unfortunately, my computer recently crashed (hence my absence) taking away many of my posts and, most tragically, the pictures I have to post for the grand finale of this story.  So, even with prayer and Divine Intervention, it may be awhile for part 4. But for now you can click here for part 1 and here for part 2 if you want to get caught up on a simple tale of Magic. A Village Babies Fairytale. 


Once Upon a Time....(time, time, time)


          I have seen people light fires since I was a little girl, "How hard can it be?" I thought, "I'm pretty sure I caught all the pertinent details from the lighting of yesterdays fire out of the corner of my eye; I got this."  This is all despite the fact that I've seen "Cast Away" several times and should know better.  It isn't as easy as you'd think, I believe, was the motto of the moment. However, all I could recall from the movie, was Hanks' final triumph. 

theboxset.com

           This was my guiding image as I squatted down towards the logs, lighting match after match and failing miserably to do what I had assumed would happen naturally (Tom didn't even have matches!). I had began with some prep work.  The logs were actually still smouldering underneath from this mornings breakfast fire, but I did recall the need for dry grass, to......well, I wasn't sure for what, but I remembered it being a vital ingredient. Dry grass, check; matches, check.  

bunchesofjoy.com

Little woodland animals who will come and do all the work for me while I tralala for their benefit.....not so much. But evening was fast approaching, the troop would be home any minute, I would have to proceed without the animal minions.







            After several attempts at lighting the grass bundle, I realized it was best to hold the brush (ahem) on a downwards tilt so the flames reach upwards (yeah, I was thoroughly breastfed as a child).  Despite this significant discovery I could get no more than a minuscule brush flame going no matter how much I tried to tuck it into the logs and sticks.  Clearly there was a piece of this formula that I was overlooking.  The last light had seeped out of the twilight evening; I could barely make out the shape of the hut in the near distance.


            Suddenly the scampering of little feet filled the air behind me, and the children appeared out of nowhere to swarm around me.  The messenger service had sent me a rescue team.  At first they sat around me shy and giggling, simply watching, but the moment the surmised my objective as I continued to try and get the fire going, they jumped into action.  Their tiny little faces, the youngest must have been four at the most, bowed down, deep into the logs and began blowing, in unison: "Wheewwwww, wheeewwww".  Before I could finish my arrogantly naive thought, "silly little chil-" the flames responded in earnest and caught on, growing quickly and fiercely.  My initial exclamations and huzzahs turned into concerned scolding because they refused to abate their huffing and puffing and were now dangerously hovering over a growing, barely contained camp fire.  I tried to pull them away, only to have them giggle, shrug me off and continue their exhausting stunt.  There was nothing for me to do, but sit back and watch the process with apprehension and marvel in equal weight.


            One by one they finally bowed off the flames and sat triumphantly down on the logs by some unspoken signal.  I looked at the fire and saw that a few of the bigger branches had now caught that deep, hot coal look, whereas before, when I was giving it my best effort all I had ever seen were those light yellow, superficial flames.  And then I understood what I had been missing and why my fire would never have been successful.  These children had used team work and persistence to achieve this long lasting blaze; I had neither the common sense to ask for help nor the were withal to understand a flame does not equal a fire; I had rewarded myself too quickly, sought the end result too impatiently; my huffing and puffing was but a fraction of what was needed for the flames to take root in the logs.  I'd needed the children; they knew it; I didn't. And this realization filled me with awe.  I was nothing but a Visitor, age and privilege had no influence on that fact.


            So, I did what any Visitor would do in this situation: the ritual of thanks-giving.  I dashed off to the hut and returned with a large sized bar of Cadburys chocolate.  This is a bar of chocolate I can, and do, easily consume in a casual 20 minute sitting between classes, waiting for a subway, walking home from the gym...you get? Consuming this treat, for me, is a non-event.

treehugger.com

        I looked around at the sincere, little faces with firelight dancing on their dark skin, and their large eyes warmed from within. I opened the package and slowly broke the chocolate down into small pieces, thinking this would be a pathetic gift indeed, as there was barely a mouthful for each. The Leader watched me with a quiet fierceness; the others murmured amongst each other, chatting about the fire flames and making a distinct effort to ignore the site and smell of chocolate, as if not to embarrass me into sharing what they assumed was just for me.


          They oohed and ahhed as I began handing each their share. I just assumed they would swallow down the quickly melting bits as fast as I handed them out, but as the last piece was parceled off, I was nonplussed to see each had waited until the others had.  The pieces had turned to liquid in their palms, but they still took patient, small licks with many murmurs of appreciation in between. This was a life-event, for me most of all.  Then it took another turn; my previous awe was nothing compared to the deep feeling of wonderment that hit me next.


         The Leader had not sampled her chocolate yet. Instead she had noted that I had not broken off a piece for myself.  That sweet, stern, powerful little girl scooped up half of the gooey mess in her palms and dutifully handed it to me.


          I, the Visitor, was so thoroughly naive, bumbling about with a contrived comprehension of local custom. I had finally realized that my privilege had only born ignorance and the absence of want, born from the surety of nothingness had given these village babies a wisdom I have only read of in scared texts.  Above all, I knew, I was in safe hands...


         
          It was after this moment, with our mouths filled with sweetness, our bodies warm, our hearts a bit of both, that the children began to tell me the reason behind their visit. It had never occurred to me that there might have been a purpose, besides Divine Angelic intervention.  They chittered and chattered in native tongue, like birds returning home at sunset.  I am terrible with languages; my mind seems only capable of retaining English, French, and Other, but for some reason my mother's tongue (ironically not my mother tongue which would be my father's language-ha!) has always hit a soft spot of familiarity in me.  I think I understand it through my heart, not my mind.  And of course, it is always, always the babies I understand and converse with best.


         But the speed with which they spoke and the content of their tale, only gave me a few phrases to catch upon that left me more confused than if I hadn't understood at all.  Translated, it went something like this:


      children:   .......Your mother's is not coming back......so sorry for you.....poor you........
      me: No, she is coming. She will come.
      children: ..........?
      me: I don't know. I don't understand. I don't....I don't know.
      children: your mother is caught!.....She will not come back. (they point to the Leader).........?
      me: I don't understand. My mother is coming.
      children (to each other): She says she is not understanding.
      me: Yes!
      children: You are not understanding??
      me: Yes! I do not understand.
      children (to each other): But poor her, she is alone, her mother has gone.
      me: No, my mother is coming.
      children: You understood?! Oh! You understand some but you do not understand everything?
      me: Yes!
      children (to each other): Ohhh, she understands some but she doesn't understand everything.


             At this point the conversation came to a standstill, as there was no way either they or I could miraculously cross this chasm in communication.  To their credit, I have had many an awkward silence far more uncomfortable than this one with adults who had a perfect grasp of English.  They understood the issue, but it did not offend them (nor should it).  That, perhaps, is the very key to why communicating with children in a foreign land is ALWAYS more satisfying than communicating with adults: those cultural differences are never offensive to children; they rightly see them as superficial and therefore amusing, but innately insignificant.


             However, the babies soon grew weary by simple fact that it was getting late, and they had surely not had dinner yet.  They gathered the young ones up and without affectation slipped off into the night.  I stood and looked around.  "I, myself, could use some dinner", I thought.  It was, after all, getting rather late. They had after all only gone to the market.


             "Where were they?" I wondered, as the children's words echoed in my head, "Where IS my mother?".......


         

Is That The Planets Shifting, Then?

        Last night was my first night ALONE since moving to Dar.  The Little One accompanied my mother on a trip out of town; I had to stay behind for rehearsals for the play.  I thought I would be anxious about it, but for the first time in forever, I feel safe....safe, for the first time in too long.  It's sad though, in her absence, my heart can only now feel the full expression of my love for my daughter.  


        They say time flies when you're having fun, I would argue the opposite and say time slips through your fingers when your struggling to hold on to your sanity.  When everything's falling apart, the clock seems to tick faster and faster, like sand through an hourglass. Joy actually freezes time, in my experience.  When I am so content with the moment that nothing else matters, no future, no past, no wants, no unfulfilled needs, in those moments time does not exist.


         March came and went like a roller coaster ride through anxiety and tension, with brief moments of holding it together.  There was too little joy in March, and the struggle to figure out what the fuck was going wrong sucked all the grains of time down until, suddenly, the month was over.  It is now April, my birthday month.


         I find myself here, now, as if finally coming out of a really bad hangover.  I am still amazed at the loss of time, still confused by how it happened, but feeling, at least, like I can breath.  The air is different, infused with a cleansing agent; the light is clearer, showing me things I did not see before. Is that the planets talking, then? Can this be explained with by a shift in the Cosmos, a change in the weather? Or is it just my Faith in these things that somehow survived the pressure of melancholy and the onslaught of worry so that with the shift in time and a new rising sun, like magic, the curse seems lifted? Is it so simple, then? Planets move and shift, time slips by, and suddenly even my trivial mortal circumstances have shed the weight of futility and regained the lightness of hope.


         My breath is slow and steady. And the small achievements that did occur now rise up into my consciousnesses having previously been suppressed and drowned in such heavy, damning, despair.  I have my health back, a good 20 lbs heavier unfortunately, but strong and vital and myself again.  


         My blood work confirmed no more anemia and all other organs are functioning (at least organically speaking) with full vitality.  While doing my check up, I managed to finally find a proficient dentist and go through the first of several stages of treatment to my damaged mouth. Having done it and survived, having found a doctor who actually understood how terrifying these procedures have become for me, and having had my mother go full on warrior by my side through the whole affair-all of this is still hard to believe, to internalize.  It has been this running commentary between my mother and I, "what are we going to do about your teeth??"; the frequent days of pulsing pain and the inability to chew properly have just become a part of my life. Now, just like that, it is all gone; I am healed.  


         A small, physical example symbolizing a much, much larger affair: The Stumble Out of the Path of Light and Peace. It always begins with a simple slip and fall, a wrong turn, a misplaced move; then the initial denial of trauma or danger, the attempt to ignore and the hope if you just keep moving all will be well; finally the awareness that you are in fact wounded, you are limping and scared that you have forever lost your way. And then one day, you are safe; you are healed; the process is over; those scary moments are gone. You will only ever understand only parts and pieces of how you were healed.  Some things you remember, others you will never know. Like did the planets quietly shift in your favor? Did the moon tilt to help you see a way you hadn't seen before?


         I shouldn't regret the loss of time, when so much of it was filled with hurt and worry; I am glad for the speed with which it seeped through me, though there are still residual aches.  I am not even looking forward yet.  I am here, now, on this day, and it feels safe.  Let the planets move me at their will, let the moments settle down and take on new shapes. I think I see my Path up ahead; it is there still, waiting for me.

        I will not look for the bliss and joy just yet, but I will not stop them from coming either. This is my silent day. I am alone (but full of love); I am MINDFUL; I am healing.  


        My breath is slow and steady.