The quote above is from the CD "If it Wasn't for the Irish and the Jews" and the song "The Old Bog Road" by Mick Moloney. Classic Irish music.
Yesterday was a day filled with emotions, but it ended quite nicely. Father Joe asked me to come to his house at 5pm to toast Ryan and pray for him. I made my way to the oasis, a beautifully crafted home, surrounded by fish ponds and shaded by palm trees. At first I couldn't figure out how to get inside, so I stood on the other side of the fish pond, looking up at his porch. Two of the Mercy preschoolers saw me standing alone and ran to me. The next thing I knew both of my hands were taken by two smaller hands, being pulled in every direction. We played tag, some version of rock/paper/sissors and I was shown their classroom and then asked to read to them. They spoke Thai and I repeated the words, they laughed, then I would say something in English and they would repeat it. While I technically only understood a few words and vice-versa, we were able to play and converse for 45 minutes. This is what I love about kids- if you don't understand through language, they will make sure you understand through their actions. And they're patient. I thought back to earlier in the day when Father told me the only thing that would really make me feel better was playing with the kids. He was right.
After 45 minutes the kids eventually went home and just like that I was "alone" again in Mercy. The sound of laughter filled the cantina; the young ones were showering and getting ready for dinner. Passing the 5 and 6 year olds, wrapped tightly in towels with sopping wet hair, I made my way back to Fathers. I found an opening in the gate and made my way up to the porch. I stood there awkwardly looking around, not daring to enter this place with out a formal invitation. When the tartingles became too much, I turned to leave. That's when Father's head popped out behind his front door, "COME IN, COME IN!"
The evening started with Father offering me all the food he could find in his house. He quickly excused himself to finish up a few emails and when he returned, Ratana, his right hand woman, appeared. She cooked up two stong martinis, "James Bond style, 3/4th vodka, 1/4th gin, shaken, not stirred," Father explained. As Father and I sat, sipping our Bond cocktails, he asked me to tell him about Ryan. This went on for quite some time. Ratana had soon filled the table with quite the apertivo spread. Our coversation bounced, from Ryan, to the mountains of Wyoming, to basic education and children with AIDS, to Mick Moloney and The Old Bog Road.
Wine and port followed and Mick's CD played on repeat. At the end of the night, Father told me that all we can do is carry on and send our prayers. On Saturday, Father and the children of Mercy will be sending their prayers to Ryan.
This morning I opened my computer to find this amazing quote in an email:
“If ever there is tomorrow when we're not together... there is something you must always remember. You are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think. But the most important thing is, even if we're apart I'll always be with you.” ~ Christopher Robin
Bails, I love you. I will echo your sentiments: SITers, your love and compassion has blown me away this week. I am so lucky to have all of you in my life and be a part of such an inspiring group of people.
To end on a lighter note:
I had to put my head phones in to write this post, for when I sat down earlier I was quite distracted. There is another volunteer, a white man in his 60s, a lawyer from Texas, sitting two feet from me at the main table in the office. He has a house in Bangkok and comes to Mercy four times a year to tutor the kids in English. He is having a lesson with one of the girls and they must be reading some sort of "study" or article, but all I can hear is, "and if a girl dresses slutty and gets up on a billards table dancing provocatively, well, nothing good is going to come of it... and slut doesn't necessarily mean whore, it could be seen as white trash." It's a very awkward, candid conversation. "There are people who look like sluts, but aren't sluts. Prostitutes, street girls, whore, women who sell their bodies- there are many names." His strong southern draw, paired with the coversation topic, is making my head spin and tartingles are OFF THE CHART.
It's a beautiful day in Bangkok and in one week Amy Johnson will be here- the hotel is booked and we are off to Koh Chang (Chang Island) for three nights!
Love from Bangkok.
((Soon I will post pictures from the other night at the Dubliner. It's an Irish pub and Mercy's go to spot for guests. There were two people here this week from Kabul- the girl was Canadian and the guy was an Aussie, but both live in Afghanistan. The guy started a non-profit there called "Skateistan". You can look up their page on the web at www.skateistan.org and they have a new full length documentary out! A really cool idea and organization, with a really awesome guy running it. It was so nice to sit down and talk to them about living and working in Kabul. Read up!))
No comments:
Post a Comment