When The Rain Falls on Washing Day

I'd seen her beatin' heart drip with ache, rung out and hung up to dry for the last damn time.

Sweetheart, I mourned.  When will you learn?  Don't you realize the energy you intend to save is at the ultimate expense of your own?

But Momma, she cried, if I don't put my heart out on the line, I'll end up just like you.

I couldn't argue with the child.  Her father had a left a scar, as dark and as deep as the C-section mark from her birth, the night he left us.

To this day, neither one have ever really healed.

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Every day, whether realized or not, we put something out on the line.  After all, what is life worth living, if we don't take chances?  I'd venture to say that most of the time, like our easy-to-wash and quick drying cotton shirts and undies, our line is pinned with the kinds of emotions and intellect with timely bounce backs.  But every once and a while, you acknowledge you've worn those jeans and slept in those sheets, for as long as you can stand it, and like your heart, and in rare cases, your life, up they go, out on the line.

Recently, I spoke with a friend about his time in Afghanistan, with the US Army.  He was in charge of helping oversee an Afghan penitentiary.  He went on to explain that many of the inmates were there as a result crimes they committed, surrounding the dirty work of the powers that be.  Who knows how long they'd remain in prison and how just their crimes and sentencing were.  But they had certainly figured out how to entertain themselves, especially at mealtime.

***Disclaimer...the following material may not be suitable for younger readers***

During mealtime, when the US soldiers delivered the inmate's food trays, some inmates would deliver mixtures of feces and urine, right in their face.  The soldiers were instructed not to react, but simply suck it up, wipe it off, and keep delivering meals.  For this incredibly heinous act, the Afghan inmate was sentenced to a mere ten days in solitary confinement.  I can't quite remember how much time in solitary confinement was given for the same act, in the States, but I believe it was closer to a year.  He gave an example of a soldier who reacted "inappropriately" (use your imagination) to that behavior, and the soldier lost an entire rank (about a $10,000 demotion).

When negativity results from things that are out of our control, or even the choices we make, we often seek out a scapegoat on which to place the blame.  (This isn't the direction my life was supposed to go; I didn't sign up for THIS; if only I would have been accepted to this program; gotten that job; married that person; sat in the back of the car that was hit in the front...my life would have been different).  Other times, we are simply at the wrong place at the wrong time.  In any case, it is hard not to separate ourselves from the situation and recognize that, more than likely, it isn't a personal attack on our own person.  More than likely, another person's negative experience is affecting them adversely, which in turn, directly affects you.

If we can think of it in those terms, with respect to variables such as culture, education, familial upbringings, and present circumstances, it helps put these situations into perspective for us, as we look at the greater picture, as opposed to an isolated incident.

The other day, I was riding my bicycle to work, when I noticed someone yelling and screaming up ahead.  As I approached this man, I realized the yells and screams were directed towards me, and that, before I knew it, so was a giant mouthful of spit.  Since I was on my bike and wearing a helmet, I was able to duck just in time, and just enough, to where his saliva just skimmed the top.  I had never seen this man before, that I knew of, nor had I done anything to warrant his behavior directed at me.  And yet, I immediately wanted to cry.  It felt SO personal.  Some people might had decided to stop and confront him, but I was almost to work, and didn't feel like messing with it right then.  More than likely, he wouldn't have even known why he did it in the first place.  (A similar thing happened to me in the Brikama market in Gambia, when, completely out of nowhere, I was spit on in the face.  I reacted quickly and loudly, yelling for any help I could get, in order to locate my assailant, after which he was caught and brought to the police station.  I filed a report at the station, and with Peace Corps, which I suppose was enough conviction for me, since I never found out what happened to him, legally speaking).

It took me a bit to compose myself and process what had just happened, on the rest of my ride to work.  Obviously, it wasn't a personal attack on me, just like the aforementioned mixture shoved at the soldier.   I had "chosen" this adventure, here in Guyana, but what did that mean?  That I should tolerate and accept everything that comes with it?  Was I even being applauded for my efforts; my time here appreciated and truly desired?  Some days it is easier to tell than others, but every day offers perspective and something new.  We'd like to think that we will at least get out what we put into a situation; that someone will notice, or rewards will be issued, but that's not always the case.  We'd like to think that, for the help we provide and the selflessness we share, we won't get spit or shit on, but unfortunately, that's not always the case either.

Fortunately, though, every day is a new day.  Every day is a chance to applaud someone's efforts, to learn something new, to share something old, and a chance to change something small; that is, if you're willing to put yourself out on the line.