Back again, I knew a refreshing weekend would do me so much good. This morning I wasn’t quite sure though.
I woke up fifteen minutes before my alarm with a killer stomach ache and wondered if Id make it to praxis. Intestinal health is a regular topic of conversation here, much more information than is kosher to share at home is normal here. Tums and pepto are in high demand and stool sample cups are always readily available. We are cooked for and careful but us North Americans have the weakest stomachs alive, so you never know what’s going to happen. As soon as something feels a little off some part of you worries if you’ll make it through the day or be bed ridden for four days before you decide to take a sample.
I made it to praxis fine but sat in Cabalitto Blanco pretty tired and disengaged, not sure I was ready to dive back into this wonderful little world.
But just like when the hiking got too hard and the waterfalls were there to remind us how worth it the hiking was… I had the most wonderful day at Praxis today.
I don’t exactly know what it is, partly I’m getting more comfortable in my own skin there. I used to be so worried about my Spanish not being good enough and the spiral that is my mind would then lead to thinking they thought I didn’t care and not being able to be present and in the end just being in another world more often than not. Slowly my Spanish has improved but more importantly I trust myself to be more than my Spanish. I find ways to communicate, I laugh, I feel comfortable with the Cedro family, and being present gets easier and easier.
I spontaneously was asked to give a Computer class for one 14 year old girl this morning. Her desire to learn was so refreshing “I want to learn how to type like you do, more English if you have time”. She was so sweet and excited and the one on one time with her was really enjoyable. Then we had a birthday party for Clarita, my lovely 5’2’’ Praxis partner who is one of the most alive humans I have ever known. She is really real and laughs and loves and spreads light like none other. The kids sang and one by one gave her a card and un abrazo, we all teared up at how much love we are receiving from this place we only hope we mean something too. We gave the kids messy and delicious cake we made last night and had a piñata. So so fun.
After our lunch (where Claire and I discreetly passed the bowl of soup with an intact chicken foot a few places over) we lolly gagged for a while as normal. Sor works her butt off and sometimes whatever she needs to do, or just chatting is more important than whatever is on the schedule. I played with Christopher, the two year old love of my life who has already stolen my heart and is guaranteed to break it when I drive away in three months. He has the most beautiful big brown eyes and is just the cutest little thing Ive ever seen. His Grandma works at the Comedor so he hangs out with us in the afternoons when none of the other kids are there. At first he’d barely look at us. Now he sits at the table and converses, whines, loves and makes us laugh so dang much.
We finally left for our home visit and little Chris of course wanted to come along and of course had no interest in the walking involved. I propped him up on my shoulder and we laughed so hard the whole walk as his little face popped right in front of my eyes and then giggled uncontrollably when I screamed. Its usually easy to make a two year old laugh but when a two year old is the cause of your gut splitting laughter you know something is right in the world. I have this image of us in my mind that I will never forget.. I love that little man.
As we walked towards the house of Dorothea we were briefed on the extreme amounts of pain she has encountered. Home visits are a little bit of a confusing subject for us. We all know they have experienced hard stuff, we want to ask but we don’t know if we should, small talk is painful, but we haven’t quite found the in between. Today’s was fantastic. Although we questioned it all afterwards in the midst of it it felt like we were just a group of humans conversing about pain, love and hope. Dorothea is the mother of 5, Grandmother of at least 5. She lost her husband 20 years ago, someone killed him and we will never know why, maybe they know or maybe they don’t. Her thirty year old son Manual has some sort of special needs, exactly what it is no one knows, diagnosis is expensive and specialty doctors are hard to come by in the rural canton. Three years ago her daughter was also killed, today we met the children of this daughter, 7 and 9 years old and one who’s 18 at work doing construction. Their dad is in prison for 30 years, again we will never quite know why. Tears fell from her eyes as she explained the pain of loosing her daughter, the memories her grand children have and the struggle of poverty. She can only find one day a week of work, Sor later tells us she receives scholarships for her Grandchildren. Her youngest daughters, 20 and probably 17ish sit with their babies nursing. Dorothea speaks from her heart, she loves this family, she knows pain too well and she tries every day to find hope in the face of the month old baby and of Joanna who has lost both of her parents and whatever she can find. We listen intently, ask questions when we feel its appropriate, try to show empathy, respect and admiration. We thank them endlessly, we are here to learn, thank you for sharing. We hug them all, I tell the kids to keep up their amazing attitudes, you can do whatever you want in this life, then you can change life’s. They hear what Im saying, but I wonder how much it resonates with them. I just want to hear how loosing their mom to violence and dad to prison feels, I want to love them with all I have.
We walk away, I squeeze Clara’s hand and the reality that is this place permeates inside me while Christopher sits atop my shoulders giggling away.
Claire, Annie and I sit in the back of the pick up truck on the dirt road on the way home. We talk about deserving peoples stories, or maybe not needing to. Is sharing healing? Is deserving peoples stories an American construct? Or does my head just want to believe that to rationalize it? How do you enter someone’s home and ask the right questions, show empathy, equality and interest without pushing too hard? We talk about all sorts of good life stuff, differences, challenges, so many things. And as we drive away I feel my heart attaching to that little town, full of natural beauty that holds the lives of people struggling in a little cocoon. Oh how I hope my time with them is meaningful on both sides. Oh how I hope this experience influences how I spend the rest of my life.
simply.refreshing.beautiful.
ReplyDelete