true life planet

This is a journal entry from when I was in Paris a few weeks ago. I still feel the same today…

I finally went to an internet cafe today. I found one that was insanely cheap by the office where I had to pick up my visa for India. I was just walking around trying to decide which falafel place looked the best for  a splurge when I found what must eb the cheapest internet cafe in Paris, at one euro an hour.

Fantastic. Unfortunately, they were closed for prayer, so I waited around on the street.

It was a weird street, full of..furriers, of all things.

Furriers and falafel. Go figure.

I was starting to enjoy myself when they opened up shop and I began reading my emails.

There were loads, as usual, but most of them dealt with a recent flood in Panama. The damage was hard to assess, and the emails were a little frantic. I felt a big loss for the communities that had been hardest hit-many were washed away.

If you’ve been reading this blog for any length of time, then you know that I worked with an indigenous group called the Ngobe in Panama. It was this particular group of people that were hit the hardest by the flooding.

More than half a dozen people died.
My friend Plinio died…he had seen several children inside of a wooden house, and he was going back and forth to rescue each one..he rescued almost all of them, and then he made the last rescue attempt for a 8 month old baby, and the rescue failed when the wooden house collapsed on Plinio and the baby. He could not rescue the baby and he was caught under the house, unable to get out. They found his body down the river later on.

I am so affected by this loss and this news. This friend of mine was making a significant difference in the world-in his world and in ours. He was well traveled, had friends all over the world, was teaching his people about plants and horticulture, and he was supposed to come stay with me for a few months when I was done with my trip. I had arranged for an internship for him at a  university near my home town.

I left the cafe and blindly walked to the metro.

I could hardly handle looking at the metro map to figure out how to get back to my apartment I was staying at-let alone eye contact with anyone on the street.

Paris felt ridiculous. All these people, with everything they could want, so much wealth, and on the other side of the earth a man dies trying to save children from drowning in a flash flood. The government did not have adequate resources to warn or to rescue the Ngobe, many of who found themselves suddenly taking refuge in trees as everything they owned washed away.

They died because they  were poor and powerless.

It was really hard for me to get home, back to the apartment. I finally made it back and then just sat on the couch for hours, in shock. It’s such a wake up call to me. It’s such a major wake up call to everyone but no one is listening. Everyone is involved in whatever they are involved in, and I wonder if he died for nothing. I wonder if anyone cares.

I am so sad I can hardly move.

It’s not just him dying that makes me feel this way..it’s the gross injustice of it. It’s that more than 1000 people, all poor Ngobe people, lost their homes in this flood. It’s that it’s not in the news-the news only covers the areas the rich expats are living in and a few tribal areas which are the homes to richer, more socially prominent tribes in Panama.

It’s all wrong. All of it.

I feel this even more strongly when I finally get up the energy to go visit Marie-Louise, the local baker. I am in line behind a woman who is very well dressed and spends an awesome 43 euros on cakes for a party. I am happy for Marie-Louise, I am happy for the woman..but I think about how much those 43 euros would buy an Ngobe person, and I lose my appetite, leaving the shop empty handed.

The whole day goes by in a blur. I’m supposed to see my friend Sonia tonight, but I can’t bear it, and tell her so when she kindly calls to check in on me. I’m all tears and I can’t stop.

It’s my last night in Paris and all I want is to go to the jungle in Panama and help my friends and their families. I don’t care about anything other than that.

The apartment I am staying in belongs to her brother, and we arrange that I will give her the key back in the morning. I hang up the telephone and start sobbing.

I hardly sleep, and when I wake up, I realize it’s my last day in Paris.

In spite having seen and done more stuff in Paris than almost anyone I have ever met who visited this place, I still have a last day “to-do-and-see” list. But I don’t really care. None of it seems that interesting anymore.

I drag myself around,  until I end up at the Basilica Sacre Coeur. Its up a steep bunch of steps and I decide to avoid the guys selling stuff and take the side stairs. I am assaulted by the strong, overwhelming smell of urine.

I hate Paris right  now. I hate how I’m near or at something spectacularly beautiful, and all of a sudden, it’s just an assault on my senses, that strong smell of urine. Disgusted, I almost throw up.

Luckily, I am able to hold my breath and make it to the top of the stairs.

I enter the Basilica. God, it’s beautiful. It’s full of mosaics. Really beautiful ones. You could stare at them for hours.

And that’s exactly what I do. I sit in a pew and let my mind go blank. It’s a relief.

My friend who died so senselessly was not a religious person, but I find myself praying him and his family anyway. I don’t really know what else to do. I’m just kneeling there crying.

The mass starts and it goes by in a blur. It’s over before I even realize it’s started.

Then a nun comes out, and she begins to sing beautiful music in French. Shortly, she is joined by about a dozen more nuns, all singing. They proceed to sing for about 45 minutes, and I stop being sad and angry and frustrated about Plinio dying and the Ngobe suffering and I just listen.

It was the most peaceful 45 minutes of my entire trip. More peaceful than anything on the Camino de Santiago, even.

After the nuns are finished, I’m still sitting there for about an hour. I don’t want to go outside, in to the world. I don’t want to battle the metro, find my way around the city…I just want peace of mind, somehow.

I’m sitting there when I happen to read a little brochure on the place, that says that if you have  a prayer request or a concern that there are nuns waitng in the rectory to hear your needs and pray for you. I decide to go talk to one of them.

I forget that they only speak French. I’m in line when I realize this and I almost step out of line, feeling silly.

I suddenly feel very alone in this enormous city and I wish I was home with my boyfriend and my friends and my parents and my dog. I don’t want to feel how I’m feeling all by myself. An overwhelming homesickness sets in and I fight it off.

It’s my turn, and I get the nun with the beautiful voice who was the main singer when they were all singing. It’s hard for me to imagine her speaking-her voice seems like it’s just meant for singing. She turns out to have  a deep voice, which surprises me. She knows I don’t speak any French, and she talks to me with her deep soothing voice in French as I listen and say nothing.

She’s got beautiful ivory skin and very dark unruly hair, and I can see bits of it peeking out. She’s got very dark brown eyes, almost black, and she’s kind of chubby with a comfortable pair of shoes on. I find myself staring at her shoes, because it’s difficult for me to look at any one in the face right now. I feel like if I do, I will start and never stop– crying.

I start talking to her in English about how I’m feeling and my state of mind, and she stops me and hugs me. I am so taken aback that she is hugging me that it jolts me into back into reality and out of my gloominess. I feel alot more relaxed and clear headed.

She talks to me for about 15 minutes, and I’ve no idea what she’s saying, but I know that she understands me somehow.

I leave the Basilica feeling significantly lighter. I feel like I can actually enjoy my last day here, and I think about Plinio and what he would’ve done, had he been here today. He would’ve loved this place and he would’ve wanted to see as much of it as he could.

All thru the day, as I walk around, I never feel alone.

I’m also accompanied by my thoughts. When terrible things happen, it often is the impetus for people to make significant changes in their life.

I feel my commitment to helping the Ngobe growing. Not only that… I feel my commitment to helping people in the world, period, growing. It’s larger than life. It’s larger than me. This feeling is like a plane above  a vast ocean. Its exhilarating and at the same time it’s kind of scary. But it’s wonderful.

I realize I can never make sense of Plinio’s death.

I realize I can never make sense of how the Ngobe continue to barely have enough to survive, while others have so much they don’t even realize it-and I see that I don’t have to make sense of it.

What I have to do is take responsibility and come up with solutions.

What I have to do is take responsibility for what is happening in the world-even when it’s not happening to me, or to people close to me, but to people I may not even know and may never meet.

I thought..in my small way..I was doing that, until this happened. And then somehow, tonight, as I was writing this journal entry, I felt as though a bomb went off in my brain, flooding me with ideas and courage and possibilities that I never thought of before. I find myself looking at what the meaning of my life is, and how I can make it a life of value-I mean, really use it-in a way that I never thought of before.

Now, I want to do more than just volunteer around the world.

I want to do more than just start a charity for the Ngobe.

I still want-and am doing those things-but now I want to be of service to the world.

Forever, my whole life.

I want to learn all the skills I need and share all the knowledge I have with any person, anywhere who is suffering from injustice, poverty, and lack of education and information.

I was thinking these kinds of thoughts before, but now I find myself strangely attracted to learning more about

Medicine. Agriculture. Industry. Economics.

All kinds of practical things, too-that before never interested me.

But now I don’t feel like my life is for just me.

I started out thinking that I was going to make a difference on this trip.

What I didn’t realize is that the difference I’m making is within myself.

Much of this trip is about gaining awareness of what it’s really actually like for the majority of most people on the Earth. It’s not easy for most people, and most people on the planet are suffering, hungry, homeless, poor, and lack human rights and basic health care. Only some of us have privileges, like a house, education, choices. I think I knew this, before I started off on this around the world trip..but I didn’t really know it. I’ve never known people who were just trying to survive before.

It makes me look at life in a whole different way.

It’s turning everything upside down in my mind, and at the same time making me appreciate deeply the privileges I’ve got. I realize how many choices I have–something I never really fully appreciated before.

I don’t want those choices I have to go for naught. I want to make some choices that end some of that suffering that have seen.

And..I’m not just feeling this way because I want to help people. I’m feeling this way because their destiny is wrapped up in mine. We are the same. What happens to them is happening to me. We have a profound effect on the destiny of everyone on Earth-just by what we do each day. Our most basic decisions impact someone, somewhere.

There’s a whole revolution going on in my brain right now, and I can’t stop it. I don’t even want to.

I owe part to of this revolution to my friend, Plinio. His death was in part an impetus for my to think outside the box even more and for me to see an example of what it means to be committed.

Thank you, my friend-you’ve helped me become a revolutionary, of sorts.

You will be remembered.

gigi

” If you have come to help me, then you are wasting your time. If you have come because your liberation is bound up with mine, then we can work together. “- Lilla Watson

Postscript: A friend read this post and told me that I would lose readers over it, because it’s too personal? Or too save the world ish? Or too …? I’m interested in knowing what you think. I guess, if I lose readers over it, well, then so be it. I’ve got to do what I’ve got to do, and be who I am. If I’m willing to not put this entry up, just because it might make some people uncomfortable for whatever reason, that doesn’t say alot about my strength of conviction or my character….

Postscript no 2: This entry has caused someone I have never met to send money to disaster relief efforts in Panama for the Ngobe. To read more about current efforts and a place you can donate a tax deductible donation, go about 7 entries back to the entry on this blog called “First Things First-Tragedy Hits The Ngobe Of Panama” and you will get all the info you need.

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