It is 21 days until I leave for DC. 24 until I leave for Mali...for 2 years. Needless to say I am seriously freaking out. I think I'll be fine once I am on the plane, but until then...
Today was an interesting day for me. I went to church!! Those of you who know me know this is so far out of my box and my character it is mind boggling. When I started volunteering with the Alliance for African Assistance they set me up to mentor, tutor, befriend a family from the Congo. They had only been in the United States for 8 days. They didn't know one word of english. The Mutubahzi's are a family of 10 mom and dad (Bahati and Sophia), 6 children (I won't get into their names...you wouldn't be able to pronounce them even if I put them in here), Bahati's mom and his brother. Since then mom and brother got their own apartment so it's just 8 now. They were moved from a refugee camp in Uganda, were they spent the last 7 years, into one of the crappiest cities in San Diego. They were set up in a maybe 800 square foot 3 bedroom apartment with kitchen cabinet doors falling off hinges, cockroaches running rampant and most of their electrical outlets didn't work and the ones that did usually blew out whatever was plugged into them... microwave, TV, etc...poof...they've never seen or had these things in their lives and then...poof...gone as quickly as they came. They were seperated from their families and moved into an area most of us wouldn't live if someone paid us and they couldn't be happier. They are safe, they are healthy, they have their most prized possessions (their children). What more could a person ask for.
I was thrown into a relationship with them very quickly. I was shown where they lived, given their apartment number with instructions to go up and introduce myself. No one had time to take me and introduce myself, so do the best if could. Dad and children speak 4-5 different languages...and mom and grandma only 1. NONE of them English. After going around and shaking hands with everyone at least once (very traditional African greeeting...they could go outside for a few minutes and come back and shake again) and me trying to remotely repeat and learn their names, we sat and stared at each other for some time. I had them take me around the apartment and show me what they did and didn't have...sheets, towels, silverware, plates. Did they need anything, did they have everything, what could I do for them. After about a grueling hour I finally left. I thought about them alot that night. If I felt so overwhelmed being in their home for an hour not being able to communicate how must they feel every second of all 8 days they have been in this country not being able to communicate. And to add to the language barrier, a few days earlier had never been in a plane, except for a few times never having had been in a car, a bathroom...in the house, running water, a microwave...imagine trying to show someone how to use that for the first time. All the things we take for granted and our children have used and been exposed to since the day they were born. What a trip!! I go back. Once a week, twice a week, sometimes I have to miss a week. I help them with their English, I am their friend, I hold moms hand just because...she seems to want to. One of their languages is French and I just started taking French at the community college...of course how they speak and how we are being taught to speak and understand are two different things. I help with their English, they help me with my French. That is the deal as I can understand it.
It has been 1 year and 5 months since the day I met this family. How quickly times goes by. I have come to know and love each one of them. And they, love me. I can even say their names without stopping to think about it. We are family. The kids English is so unbelievably good. How quickly they learn. Dad improves "little, little" everday. Mom...well she speaks and understands better than she will admit or let on, but she holds her own. When I first started helping her with English, I taught her the easiest things first. "Hello, how are you?" "Nice to see you." We walked up and down her street for 20 minutes saying it over and over again to every person we passed. They looked at us like we were crazy. We felt crazy, but it sure was a lot of fun. She still uses these phrases regularly and I think about that day and laugh to myself. "Oh my gosh, you give me a headache." is another big line of hers. WHAT??...I didn't think she'd remember it. It could have been worse.
There's been some bad with the good. I've met a lot of refugee families while I've been working with them, they seem to fill up by apartment complexes, and it appears that they all get sick off and on during the first months to a year after being in our country. Maybe it's the change in environment, the change of food, the fact that we use pesticides, steroids, hormones and every other thing unnatural to grown our meat, fruits and vegetables. I'm sure I'll find out soon enough when I go to Africa and start getting sick because all of these wonderful things are being taken out of my diet and adding instead bacteria, parasites, amoebas and the like. None the less, they seem to spend a lot of time sick and usually that will come with a hospital visit. Grandma's been in and out, older brother has been in and out, dad, mom...their 15 year old son was in for almost a week with an infection in his arm. They talked about amputating. I'm glad that was not the course of action they decided to take. The neighbors have been in and out of the hospital as well. The worst yet was Noella diagnosed with breast cancer. I did not find out until the day she had had the masectomy and was home with a house full of little children by 2pm. She was so sick and pitiful when I went to see her. They all still smile and give thanks. If this would have happened in her country she would not have survived. She has too many children, too much to do to die so young.
As long as I have been visiting this family Bahati always talks to me about the glory of his god. All of his blessings, including me being a part of their life. A few times throughout this past year and a half he has asked me to go to church with them. Instead of my looking at the honor it was to be asked to join them in their celebrations, I said no because church...god...is not my thing. For some reason, I'm assuming because I will be leaving my famille africaine soon, I decided why not. Why not be able to share what obviously is such a joyous time for them with them. So I said yes. Bahati could not believe his ears and yelled for Sophia to tell her the good news. He spoke to her in Swahili only what I imagine was this very same news. What a day at the Mutubahzi home.
Well today was the day. I got dressed and was over to the house by 9:30. We left in my car for church. There wasn't that many people there, and most of them I knew. They all live in the same complex as Sophia and Bahati. Everyone was so excited to see me. I don't know if it was because they all consider me to a friend, or, any friend of Bahati's is a friend of mine, or, a new face is a new blessing. Whatever the case may be I was touched by all the attention. As the "mass" progressed and after a good 20 minutes of singing and dancing and music playing, the pastor talked about the blessings of the past week. I was number 3. I would have been insulted not being number 1 but getting from last week to this week alive and healthy, and the birth of 2 new babies in the congregation really does far outweigh 1 new face in the neighborhood. I think he talked about me for about 10 minutes...since the ENTIRE mass was in Swahili (with a poor translation to english) I'm not all sure of what was going on but everyone kept looking at me and smiling and raising their hands towards the ceiling. Say amen, say alleluia!!
After another song or two Bahati got up to speak in front of the congregation. I am happy to say that his being thankful that I was there was number 2 on his list. He started by saying I was his sister and how grateful he was for me to be a part of his families life. That's when the water works started. I started crying and didn't stop for a good hour. Maybe I was so touched and honored by this family...maybe I just needed a good cry. Whatever the reason, it was on. After Bahati, came Sophia. Apparently talking about some of our first meetings, about what brought me to them today...everyone laughed. I hope they were laughing with me. It's amazing, we spend so much time wondering what to buy this one for his birthday and that one for Christmas. Or we want to do buy something for special for no reason whatsoever...I never felt more appreciated and loved and it didn't cost them a dime. I was honored.
After everyone spoke about me, they asked me to come up and say something. I did have something to say and am usually very good about speaking in front of others, but I was crying. Really, you're going to make me cry and then ask me to come up and speak. Eyes red and tearing, make up shot, nose running. Maybe next time.
Yes there may be a next time. Since lightening didn't strike me or anyone else sitting next to me I thought what the hell. I only have 2 more Sundays left. Next time I'll come and maybe I'll say something. I'll prepare a cheat sheet beforehand. Maybe I'll just give it to the interpreter and let him do it. I'll sit in the way back and cry by myself.
The Mutubazi Family.
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