Praise song for the day

We are enjoying the company of our friends Marissa and Marcus!

Praise Song for the Day
by Elizabeth Alexander

A Poem for Barack Obama's Presidential Inauguration

Each day we go about our business,
walking past each other, catching each other's
eyes or not, about to speak or speaking.

All about us is noise. All about us is
noise and bramble, thorn and din, each
one of our ancestors on our tongues.

Someone is stitching up a hem, darning
a hole in a uniform, patching a tire,
repairing the things in need of repair.

Someone is trying to make music somewhere,
with a pair of wooden spoons on an oil drum,
with cello, boom box, harmonica, voice.

A woman and her son wait for the bus.
A farmer considers the changing sky.
A teacher says, Take out your pencils. Begin.

We encounter each other in words, words
spiny or smooth, whispered or declaimed,
words to consider, reconsider.

We cross dirt roads and highways that mark
the will of some one and then others, who said
I need to see what's on the other side.

I know there's something better down the road.
We need to find a place where we are safe.
We walk into that which we cannot yet see.


Say it plain: that many have died for this day.
Sing the names of the dead who brought us here,
who laid the train tracks, raised the bridges,

picked the cotton and the lettuce, built
brick by brick the glittering edifices
they would then keep clean and work inside of.

Praise song for struggle, praise song for the day.
Praise song for every hand-lettered sign,
the figuring-it-out at kitchen tables.

Some live by love thy neighbor as thyself,
others by first do no harm or take no more
than you need. What if the mightiest word is love?

Love beyond marital, filial, national,
love that casts a widening pool of light,
love with no need to pre-empt grievance.

In today's sharp sparkle, this winter air,
any thing can be made, any sentence begun.
On the brink, on the brim, on the cusp,

praise song for walking forward in that light.

Pillows cases, fridge magnets, and another ear story

Nisha and Krishna before the earing mischief!

I brought back a ton of treats with me. Among these, an instant all time favorite: warm fuzzy pillowcases made by my friend Ari.  Ari came up with the idea on his own and handmade them for his Bar Mitzvah project!  Thank you Ari. The pictures really say it all.

BBC and Ansuraj with their awesome Ari pillows!I also brought back a bag of those classic colorful ABC, 123, fridge magnets that were a huge hit.  The kids were fascinated with them and have been making all kinds of words and even doing math on the refrigerator.  I found them in a box donated by Mrs. Laursen’s school but don’t know who gave them to us.  Whoever you are out there… genius idea! Thank you!

The children’s favorite new books right now are Polar Bear Polar Bear what do you hear? And, Brown Bear Brown Bear what do you see?  The boys have asked me to read these to them 100 times already and have almost memorized every word.  What great books for kids learning basic English.  Thank you to the Steinhorn family of Willow School!

The gift that I brought back for the girls were head bands and little earrings.  I didn’t have a lot of space in my bag and I got these at the last minute thinking I’d give earrings to the girls who have their ears pierced and headbands to the others.  BAD MOVE MAGGIE!  This morning Krishna decided that she wanted a pair of earrings too, so she took it upon herself to pierce her ears and then strutted into Laximi with her treasured Ari pillow!my room to show me—like it was no big deal, like she didn’t do anything wrong!  I looked at her horrified,“Okay, excuse me but you’re six—what makes you think that you can just take a safety pin and put holes in your ears?” 

As it turned out Goma was her partner in crime who is oddly talented with these kinds of tasks and did like the perfect, most even piercing job EVER, although I know for a fact that she didn’t sterilize that safety pin.  They both got a long lecture about infections, and sterility, asking permission, and piercing things, as I doused Krishna’s ears with alcohol this morning.  Little Miss smarty-pants Krishna raised her hand in the middle of the lecture. 

“Yes, Krishna? “

“Well, Maggie where was I supposed to go to get my ears pierced anyway?” 

I had to stop and think for a second. It’s not like there’s a Piercing Pagoda around here. 

Deepak with his amazing Ari pillow!“To the doctor,” I finally let out before she could notice that I totally made that up and if I actually went to the hospital in Surkhet, where they’re combating things like malaria, and tuberculosis, to ask the doctor to pierce Krishna’s ears, he’d probably think I was a lunatic.

In the end, I let her keep the earrings in, which in retrospect, was probably another bad move.  (Moms out there are probably appalled.)  I guess I did reinforce her behavior in a way, but heck, parenting isn’t easy.  Next thing I know, Maya will have a safety pin stuck in her ear and Goma will be opening up a Piercing Pagoda in Surkhet.

On the ground again

Little Maya—sans pencil!

I arrived in Surkhet yesterday afternoon. All of the kids are so happy. They look healthy, older, and bigger too. They still consume more food than any kids I know and I feel like they get stronger and taller every time I see them.

After the initial stampede of 30 kids running at me full force for hugs and kisses, the night was a big talking fest. At times there were 9 children shouting over one another to get a single piece of a story out and I had to cover my ears. They all had a million stories to share, pictures they had drawn to show me, new songs, and lots and lots of questions about where I was, what I did, who I met, and where Juntara is.

Sagar reminded me that my trip took 47 days instead of 40 like I promised– yes he was counting. Punkha pulled me to the chicken coop and told me how many eggs the chickens have been laying—one of his chores is to feed the chickens and Punkha is convinced that it’s HIS feeding that has made them lay more eggs. Buhkta held onto my thigh and wouldn’t let go, and within one hour of my arrival Maya (our four year old) stuck a pencil inside her ear, which broke off and got stuck inside. We tried for about a half an hour to get it out with tweezers, and then took her to the local clinic where it took an hour and a half of hysterical crying, and 5 adult men (no exaggeration) to hold her down and get it out. That was Maya’s way of saying “welcome home” or more like “welcome back to reality.” Leave it to Maya.

Later a few of the neighbors came by. Ubjikala made my favorite dinner and Prithi made a fire that we sat around, singing, dancing, and eating the walnuts my parents sent. I can’t even begin to tell you how it felt to tuck them into bed tonight, and kiss their soft warm cheeks, and tell them I love them again and again and again.

Padam, Juntara’s father, is here and doing much better. He’s back to his normal self. There’s no doubt in my mind that he really lost his mind while he was in London though. I’ve talked to a few people who deal with ex-patriots (particularly Nepalis) arriving to new countries, and supposedly this is quite a common occurrence.

It was interesting to hear Padam tell his stories too; his impressions of that other world he’s been living in for the past two months. I listened intently, working hard to decipher his village dialect as he told everyone stories about the microwave, the washing machine, the shoes with wheels on the bottom, elevators, escalators, big machines that clean the streets—the streets, that are black and shiny with not a single piece of garbage on them. There’s hot and cold water that comes out everywhere too, and buses with wings that fly in the sky.

He says he doesn’t know what happened to him but somewhere in the week that Juntara was getting her operation, he got sick, and felt like we was going to die, and that life there for some reason just wasn’t suitable for him. He couldn’t sit down for more than a few minutes without feeling anxious. He couldn’t breathe fully. He couldn’t see the sky. There was no sun and where were the mountains? Why the heck weren’t there any mountains? And how in the world is it that you can cook food without fire?

What surprised me the most was that he didn’t stop talking about the kindness everyone showed him and how much love everyone gave to his daughter, that people there were like “Gods” to them, how Juntara was the first Nepali child Facing the World has ever encountered, and how lucky she was to have the doctors and the operations she had.

He had been so rude and crazy and short with everyone just a few days before that as I listened to him today, I had a hard time believing that he was the same man. I’ve taken back a lot of the anger, resentment, and frustration that I’ve been feeling these past few days.

The kids have just left for school and I’m enjoying a few minutes of solitude—drinking tea, listening to music, unpacking my bags, and getting settled. My mind and emotions have been all over the place these past few days. It’s just nice NOT to be sitting on a plane, or a car, or a bus, and to have my feet on the ground again– you know how it feels good to just stand still after you’ve been in motion for so long? Yes my feet are definitely on the ground again. And yes, thank God that pencil is out of Maya’s ear. I’m finally in Nepal.

Wonderful News

Okay so you're never going to believe this!  There's been a change of plans... Juntara is staying here in London!!!  Many thanks to Facing the World who is making a rare exception for us.  I'm taking her father home with me back to Nepal tonight.  My sister Kate will be arriving to London in the next few days to pitch in and look after Juntara for the weeks prior to her operation.  I'll have her do some blogging as well.  

I have taken power of attorney and I will return for her Juntara's second operation in a few weeks. Juntara has been loving listening to herself sing and recording her voice -- The gift of music is one of her many gifts—I'm sure, you'll agree! This is a song she composed about what she calls the "tato pokari" or "hot lake" (the bathtub)... Off to the airport...More soon...from Nepal!

Big Ben

Juntara in London park

Rebecca, Padam, Juntara and Me in front of Big BenToday was a much better day. It's Saturday so there were no meetings or doctor's appointments, and no school. We went out grocery shopping, came home and got dressed, took a bath, cleaned up our room, and got ready for a day of sightseeing out on the town. We went and saw Big Ben, the London Eye, and Buckingham Palace.

We're staying in Chelsea, which is like the hip Soho (NYC) part of London. We can walk to the subway, and there's a big double-decker bus stop right in front of our apartment, so it's pretty easy to get around.

Juntara's favorite thing about our apartment is the bathtub, which she refers to as our "tato pokari" or "hot lake." We usually spend about an hour in there every day chatting and singing away. It's amazing to me how self-sufficient she has become. Most people she meets can't even believe she's blind. We had anassessmentwith someone from the blind association on Thursday, who said that she had unbelievable and extremely rare social skills for a child with as limited vision as she has. She's bright and seems to be picking up on everything she learns really quick. We've been spending a lot of our time cooking. Juntara will literally go into the cabinet, take out the potatoes, tomatoes, onion and garlic- chop them all up on the cutting board, fill the pot with water and add the rice, set the table, and do the dishes. We are a great team in the kitchen. She's memorized where everything is and navigates her way throughout the apartment, downstairs, and to the toilet. There is a french bakery and deli downstairs and Nicolas, the owner brings us pastries and little treats daily. bless!

I was pretty down in the dumps yesterday. Every time I looked at Juntara I would feel tears come to my eyes. I kept thinking about how unfair all of this is for her, how much I hate this disease, how frustrated I am with her father, how this was all supposed to come to a happy ending. We thought we could get rid of this tumor in one swipe, we thought her life would be normal, and everything would be perfect. But it's not. Things are far from perfect and things will be far from easy. Then I look at her and she's smiling and laughing and content and I start to cry even more. And it doesn't make sense that I'm crying, but I am.

Then Juntara looks at me straight in the eye and touches my face and dries my tears and says "yah but Maggie, what can we do?"

She’s wise and calm. She knows this is far out of our control. It's not in our hands, so we just have to live and make due, and laugh and sing, and laugh some more, and be patient and love. And when all is said and done, we’ll remember our days here and how we got to ride on a huge red double-decker bus, and go to Buckingham Palace, and get our picture taken in front of Big Ben. We’ll tell everyone in Nepal what a bathtub is and how wonderful hot baths are. We know that there are more adventures to come and we’ll see where our life takes us next.

Juntara and Rebecca from Facing the World