Before heading back to my hut when I was serving as a Peace Corps volunteer in Mali, I would wish my host family goodnight in Bambara, their native language: “K’an kelen kelen wuli.” or “May you each wake up one by one.”
The idea that one might not wake up is a very real possibility in Mali, Africa. Looking back I see the nightly blessing was so telling about how the Malians lived life, with elements of grace and humor, and reminded me how I wanted to live mine.
January began with an unspeakable event in Arizona, topped by days of snow snowfall, a relentless stomach bug that traveled around Dedham and the death of one of my heroes, the first director of the Peace Corps, Sargent Shriver.
Add to all of this a lack of vitamin D and a clear dip in my mental health takes place, making January a notoriously difficult month, one that was hard to stay in the moment and live each day to its fullest.
It’s something I aim to do and is probably why I pack my days and fill them doing things I believe in and am passionate about. I feel a sense of urgency to get things done today, because who knows about tomorrow?
American’s don’t worry too much about their mortality. I’m not sure if that’s the case now. During my time in Mali I worried every day about being bitten by a malaria-carrying mosquito or being exposed to some other preventable disease. Now I wonder about the people around me when I’m at the store, dropping the kids off at school or attending an event with a large group of people. Is there some troubled person that is going to come shooting?
I think I would rather worry about the mosquito; at least I can wear repellent.
The Jan. 8 shooting in Arizona has sat in my stomach like a heavy weight. Six people losing their lives in front of a grocery store because an angry person decided to start shooting, is something I just can’t shake. I think it’s the combination of all these “types” of assaults that seem normal part of the evening news. The headlines of another random shooting or another group of people who were going to do a routine event and end up dead have become commonplace.
Before heading back to my hut when I was serving as a Peace Corps volunteer in Mali, I would wish my host family goodnight in Bambara, their native language: “K’an kelen kelen wuli.” or “May you each wake up one by one.”
The idea that one might not wake up is a very real possibility in Mali, Africa. Looking back I see the nightly blessing was so telling about how the Malians lived life, with elements of grace and humor, and reminded me how I wanted to live mine.
January began with an unspeakable event in Arizona, topped by days of snow snowfall, a relentless stomach bug that traveled around Dedham and the death of one of my heroes, the first director of the Peace Corps, Sargent Shriver.
Add to all of this a lack of vitamin D and a clear dip in my mental health takes place, making January a notoriously difficult month, one that was hard to stay in the moment and live each day to its fullest.
It’s something I aim to do and is probably why I pack my days and fill them doing things I believe in and am passionate about. I feel a sense of urgency to get things done today, because who knows about tomorrow?
American’s don’t worry too much about their mortality. I’m not sure if that’s the case now. During my time in Mali I worried every day about being bitten by a malaria-carrying mosquito or being exposed to some other preventable disease. Now I wonder about the people around me when I’m at the store, dropping the kids off at school or attending an event with a large group of people. Is there some troubled person that is going to come shooting?
I think I would rather worry about the mosquito; at least I can wear repellent.
The Jan. 8 shooting in Arizona has sat in my stomach like a heavy weight. Six people losing their lives in front of a grocery store because an angry person decided to start shooting, is something I just can’t shake. I think it’s the combination of all these “types” of assaults that seem normal part of the evening news. The headlines of another random shooting or another group of people who were going to do a routine event and end up dead have become commonplace.
In the days that followed the Arizona shootings I became glued to the news. It wasn’t until the emotional eulogy of the six victims by President Obama that I found some peace and did I realize one thing: They all shared a common thread of being people who cared deeply about our country and about our democracy. I would have been at that type of event as someone who wants to engage our politicians and hear about what they are doing. I think that’s what has made this tragedy, states away, hit close to home for me. I was one of those people.
With heaviness in my heart, I had to let go. My kids were getting sick with a rampant stomach bug and then I caught it too. Long days of being forced to stay home and focus on ourselves overshadowed any of the larger, world problems I was contemplating earlier. Then the snow showed up and life shifted again to happier times with raising three kids, sledding and building snowmen.
Last week in a first attempt to start watching the news again, I heard about Sargent Shriver’s passing.
Sargent Shriver, the first director of the Peace Corps, was an inspiring figure who had a presence in my life and with whom I share many of the same values. He had a unique perspective on the world getting to travel to so many remote places and inspiring young Americans to give up two years of their lives to live in these corners of the world. Thanks to his great leadership and making Kennedy’s dream a viable and sustainable organization, I have some of this perspective too.
Learning to live outside your comfort zone allows you to appreciate the mundane and the simple things in life. I wanted to interact with people, let them know who I was and how I felt, and it made me feel connected.
A Yale Law graduate, he spoke at his alma mater in 1994, “All of history’s great changes--nonviolent changes - came from below, not from above. It comes from us... It’s not what you get out of life that counts. It's what you give and what is given to you from the heart . . . And I have one small word of advice because it is going to be tough: Break your mirrors!!! Yes indeed -shatter the glass. In our society that is so self-absorbed, begin to look less at yourself and more at each other. Learn more about the face of your neighbor and less about your own.”
A combination of looking more at each other and to living each day as if it were your last is my silver lining to this month. Perhaps this may help the evening news be less depressing and more enlightening. So here is my January wish to the residents of Dedham: May you each wake up one by one, look at each other and give with your heart.
Dedham resident Jennifer Barsamian’s blog Dedham Rocks can be found at www.dedhamrocks.com.
