On the last day of school (in April--we did one term at an international school from Jan-April), I was driving the kids home from Kampala.
Mary was reading the cards that her classmates had written to her.
She began crying, really crying. Rachel and Daniel asked her why and she said, "I just feel really sad about something someone wrote to me." We all begged her to tell us who and what they said. Sad to say, I joined with the kids in trying to guess and speculate who the person was and why she was crying about him/her.
She was very determined not to share with us about who and what had made her cry.
About six weeks later my curiosity could take it no more. So at the breakfast table when it was just Mary and me, I said, "Mary, what made you cry on the way home from school?"
She still refused to tell even despite my efforts to explain that we could write a note back, etc.
I asked her if it was some of the expatriate girls in the classroom, asked if it was boy, etc.
Finally, she told me. "No, mom, she was really black. Like actually black." I knew that this meant Sudanese as many Sudanese have gorgeously dark skin--more bluish brown than others.
I told her that we could write a note to that girl. She explained that it would be weird to write her a note because she had a sister at the school. I told her the sister wouldn't really expect a note also. Then she said the sister (or maybe cousin) was also in her class.
Okay, yes, now I see why that would be a bit awkward.
"And mom, I won't see them again. I could see Kayla Joy or Maya again (British and American) but I doubt that I'll see that friend again."
"And that is why I cried."
Yes, now, I totally understand. Though I feel sad about fellow expatriates that we are leaving, and though I feel sad about the University community that we are leaving, I also know that the more chasm-like-losses are with people with whom we have a very everyday relationship.
We have learned here that one joy that is different from home is the very present way of being with people, the lower expectations to say and do just the right things, but rather the mellow sort of relaxed way of being with people that is primarily being present in the day in and day out, the sitting with people without answers, without the pressure of conversation, action, etc. This very thing is the very thing that won't be the same when we leave these people of our everyday life. And though I intend to write notes, and phone call, and facebook with certain people, the reality is that this loss is a real loss.
And its a real loss worthy of a good cry. Thank you, Mary for the reminder of true things.
Mary was reading the cards that her classmates had written to her.
She began crying, really crying. Rachel and Daniel asked her why and she said, "I just feel really sad about something someone wrote to me." We all begged her to tell us who and what they said. Sad to say, I joined with the kids in trying to guess and speculate who the person was and why she was crying about him/her.
She was very determined not to share with us about who and what had made her cry.
About six weeks later my curiosity could take it no more. So at the breakfast table when it was just Mary and me, I said, "Mary, what made you cry on the way home from school?"
She still refused to tell even despite my efforts to explain that we could write a note back, etc.
I asked her if it was some of the expatriate girls in the classroom, asked if it was boy, etc.
Finally, she told me. "No, mom, she was really black. Like actually black." I knew that this meant Sudanese as many Sudanese have gorgeously dark skin--more bluish brown than others.
I told her that we could write a note to that girl. She explained that it would be weird to write her a note because she had a sister at the school. I told her the sister wouldn't really expect a note also. Then she said the sister (or maybe cousin) was also in her class.
Okay, yes, now I see why that would be a bit awkward.
"And mom, I won't see them again. I could see Kayla Joy or Maya again (British and American) but I doubt that I'll see that friend again."
"And that is why I cried."
Yes, now, I totally understand. Though I feel sad about fellow expatriates that we are leaving, and though I feel sad about the University community that we are leaving, I also know that the more chasm-like-losses are with people with whom we have a very everyday relationship.
We have learned here that one joy that is different from home is the very present way of being with people, the lower expectations to say and do just the right things, but rather the mellow sort of relaxed way of being with people that is primarily being present in the day in and day out, the sitting with people without answers, without the pressure of conversation, action, etc. This very thing is the very thing that won't be the same when we leave these people of our everyday life. And though I intend to write notes, and phone call, and facebook with certain people, the reality is that this loss is a real loss.
And its a real loss worthy of a good cry. Thank you, Mary for the reminder of true things.
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| This was Mary's first friend at UCU Daycare named "Papa" |
