so much depends
upon
a red wheel
barrow
glazed with rain
water
beside the white
chickens.
("The Red Wheelbarrow", William Carlos Williams)
Tomorrow I go to Beira to exchange trucks, stockpile fuel and food, pack a tent and lots of water, withdraw a thousand dollars from the bank, shave my legs for good luck, and head off early in the morning for Pemba. Beira is in the dead center of Moz on the coast, and Pemba is at the very top near the border with Tanzania; the distance between them is like driving the length of California (on terrible roads) three times.
I'll be gone for a week, then straight back to Beira for two days of team meetings and Sara's goodbye party. I try not to think about the dim prospect of Life After BFF.
I'll doing a pastor's seminar out in the bush near Pemba, teaching about HIV, and generating discussion for a national church response (for that denomination here in Moz). We have paid for the HIV+ bishop of Malawi - a remarkable man - to come out and talk about life as an openly positive clergyman, about stigma, what it means to be the Church in a world of HIV, and how to create open communities, caring ones. It's worth trying for anyways.
What I was just doing (in Muxungue, Zove and Machanga) was: accompanying community HIV activists as they made a presentation in a hospital waiting area; meeting with a potential partner to see what she does (preschools for orphans) and if it's something we'd want to get behind; meeting with the director of a vocational center we support (which teaches sewing to orphans) to plan for next year's budget (and just to chat, he's so likable); and, finally, hanging out with forty 12-21 year old girls at a rural boarding center we support, musing aloud on the vagaries of life to them (at night, along with Sara, who stole the show) and teaching about HIV/AIDS (the next morning, under a huge beautiful Bilbo Baggins cashew tree).
What I'm really thinking about, though, is this:
There's a friend of mine who has an older sister, an incredible woman I've never met but my friend speaks about her in awed tones. This older sister went to college and fell in love, and married a good man. After a few years together, this man turned out to be mentally ill. They had children together, 3 beautiful ones, but his illness progressed, and finally life became so difficult that she and the kids had to move out. But she didn't leave him by himself. She found an apartment where he could live and she continued to care for him, cooking, coming over to clean, bringing the kids to visit. For years it has been that way. She works full-time, he is unable to work, she raises their kids, she cares for him. Then he had a stroke and needed even more care - and she just keeps doing it, caring for this unpredictable man she married who is so different from what he was. She has lived, in actual fact, for nearly twenty years as a married woman but without a husband, at least not what you dream and hope for when you marry at age 25, bursting with every prospect in the world. This sister is made of flint, my friend says, and I nod silently. She doesn't leave him, she doesn't embitter. She just keeps on keeping on.
Amazing.
"So much depends on the red wheelbarrow," Williams tells us, "glazed with rain water."
The coolest girl at the boarding school, Amelia, age 19. She has a humped back, though she hides it well here, a spine all jumbled and wrong. Both of her parents died; she's been at the center for 6 years. She is a loner, I think, naturally quiet, often sits alone, but possesses enormous self-respect. Her favorite subject is geography. She wants to be a nurse. She was a pleasure to talk to.It was too dark for the camera to pick up anything, but the girls came to dance for us. This is their song.
This looks like a college brochure photo, but I swear it was un-posed.
Playing the Telephone Game, renamed Jogo de Fofoca (Gossip Game) for the HIV teaching.
1 comment:
I hope u have a safe trip. Where is Sara going? mb
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