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tessxomarie · 5 years

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Saving You - Part Seven

*TRIGGER WARNING: This scene discusses self harm as well as sexual assault. If you need to skip this part, please do so. Please remember if you or someone you know have suffered from sexual assault, there is a link for if you want to reach out: https://www.rainn.org/about-national-sexual-assault-telephone-hotline

Also, if you’d like to message me to talk – I am always here to talk and listen!*

Things go from bad to worse. I promise, things will all fall into place after this part...just have to go through some ugly stuff to get those rainbows.

The 4th of July, a wonderful day in our country. We all get to eat unhealthy foods, blow shit up, drink and party to celebrate our independence. I started this holiday by working a 12-hour night shift. Kendra was walking in as I was walking out, she wasn’t on the clock until Noon, but someone was a no show and that girl is always about making an extra dollar.

It’s now 7:45am, I eat a bagel and drink some chocolate milk because deep down, I’m still a five-year-old at heart.

“Hey, I may be out of here at 3 but if that’s the case I’m going home to nap and I’ll just meet you at the clubhouse later on. I’ll be there for the fireworks.” Kendra texts me right before I go to bed for the day.

“Sounds good, love.” I text back and then I fall asleep.

It’s now 4pm, I literally slept all day - I must have needed it.

I wake up to a bunch of texts, a dozen from Kenz as she was bored at work. She did get off early but now she’s taking her own nap.

Coco texted me asking what time I was going to be there, mentioning Letty was going to be hanging around today and wanted me to keep her company at some point. Lastly, Bishop texted me saying he’s excited to see me.

I manage to get myself out of bed, I look at my mirrored closet and I’m disgusted with my current appearance.

“Jesus, did I go to rave in my sleep?” I ask myself as I survey the bird’s nest on my head. I take a rinse off shower and opt for the dry shampoo look as this is a simple clubhouse party; I’m not impressing anyone tonight.

“Do I try to go all Miley for this holiday or do I try to be the good wholesome All-American Girl?” I ask myself as I stare at my closet pondering life.

After a half hour of sitting in my towel and browsing social media, I opt for a red and navy light weight flannel, white tank and a pair of jean shorts, converse to complete this casual look - “I’m patriotic AF.” I say as I pose in my mirror.

As I’m go to do my hair, I notice my Claddagh ring on my dresser - the sparkle of the emerald is catching my eye, “Okay Grams, I’ll wear the ring. 4th of July is special, I guess.” I say to myself as I slip my ring on.

I put my hair in a weak side braid, gather my purse, phone and the pasta salad I volunteered to bring because doesn’t every 4th of July party involve some sort of pasta salad? - and then I make my way out the door.

I pull up to the scrapyard, and Chucky is directing traffic.

“Nurse Aleeah! I’m so happy to see you! Plus, you’re not here for work, that must be a first.” He says to me as he opens my Jeep door.

“Hey Chucky, I think you’re right - this just might be the first time I’ve been here not on nurse duty.” I say to him as he helps grab my pasta bowl and hands it to me. In the distance I hear shouting of some sort, I look over by the fighting cage and my favorite victims are already going at it.

“I may have spoken too soon.” Chucky whispers.

I look at Chucky and quirk a look, “I’m going to take care of this right now.”

I strut right over to the Reyes brothers, pasta salad bowl in hand and all.

“Hey, Dumb and Dumber, can’t we get along for one fucking day?” I shout.

Both boys look away from me, “Oh I’m sorry, was I interrupting? Was I being rude?” I say with sass.

“It’s fine, Lee.” EZ says and shrugs his shoulders looking at his brother. “Yup, we’re fine Leah.” Angel spits back.

Angel takes a step and walks briskly past me, but I’m not in the mood for that today.

“Hey, douchebag.” I holler going after him, which causes him to spin around as quickly as he started walking.

“What?” He spits again.

“I don’t appreciate your attitude towards me these last few days. All I do is save you time and time again, Angel. Don’t treat me like some biker slut when I ask how you’re doing - I fucking stitch you whole again and again, I think I’ve earned a little bit of respect; especially if you tell others I’m the only one you trust.” I end with a whisper.

“Who told you that?” He asks with a nervous look.

“You’re wonderful girlfriend.” I say with another attitude, and just as those words leave my tongue, he turns back and heads towards the clubhouse.

EZ then comes up behind me, “What EZ?” I ask in a grouchy tone.

“He and Adelita are done, broken up or whatever. That’s what he and I were discussing over there. I asked him where he’s been lately, and that’s when he said he told her he was done, and he left her a few days ago.”

I stare at EZ and back towards the Clubhouse with my jaw dropped.

He dumped her...why?

Is she going to come after him?

So many thoughts race through my mind.

“I need to get this pasta inside.” I stutter and before EZ can even respond, I’m on autopilot to the clubhouse.

I’m greeted by Gilly and Riz, Riz takes my pasta bowl and puts it on the table with the other dishes.

It’s already getting busy up in here, a lot of families are hanging around inside and it seems as they are prepping to take most of the party outside in the yard. “Remind me again, why the hell is the clubhouse the hosting spot this year?” I ask Gilly.

“Well, last year we may or may not have sparked a little fire at Bishop’s place, so it was that night he declared next year’s party would be held at the clubhouse and here are.”

“Ahh, I see. Nothing says independence like having a party with outlaws.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing, Leah.” Gilly jokes as he gives me a half hug.

“Aleeah!” I hear Bishop shout as he enters the room. “How are you, sweetheart?” He asks as he kisses my cheek.

“I’m good. Survived my night shift, slept all day, pasta salad was made and now I’m here.” I say with a smile.

“I’m glad you’re here and it’s not for medical reasons.” He says with a laugh.

“Shh, the night hasn’t even begun. There’s plenty of time for fuckery.” I say with a cautious smile.

I chat with a few of the guys for a few moments, I then see Angel emerge and our eyes lock.

The spark that was there, it’s gone now. I so badly want to talk to him, but I don’t even know how to start a conversation with him without straight for a sassy comment.

“Hey Bish, Oakland will be here in a little bit.” I hear Hank say from the bar.

I look over at Hank’s way and back at Bishop…Oakland...Erik...fuck fuck fuck.

“Oakland is coming?” I nervously question Bish.

“Oh yeah, some of them called asking what we were doing so I invited them down to join our big fiesta. It’s going to be great, right?” He says as he gives me another half hug.

I stand there frozen and I just nod my head.

Erik is coming. I just know it.

I reach for my phone and text Kendra. I know she’s still sleeping, but maybe I’ll get lucky. My nerves are now in high gear.

That is when Coco comes to my rescue for the time being. “Lee Lee!” He shouts as he comes in for a hug.

“Coco, how are you doing? Everything healing up alright?” I ask doing a once over.

“Yeah, I’m feeling good. Leg is a little sore, but I’m fine. Leticia is in the office, I had her finish up some filing shit – keeping her busy. She always enjoys chatting with you, so if you could go say hi to her, that would make me super happy.” Coco says with a small smile.

“Oh my gosh, of course Coco. I could use a distraction right now actually, so I’ll go visit her right now.” I say ready to head out the door but Coco holds me back, “Angel has been an asshole to everyone lately, don’t take it too personal, Lee. He broke it off with Adelita right after we got the clear to leave the clubhouse, I guess he’s taking it a little harder than he had planned.”

I wasn’t even referring to Angel, but the explanation does justify his attitude – it still isn’t acceptable.

“Thanks of the heads up.” I say with a small smile as I head out of the clubhouse and head to the office.

“Knock Knock.” I say as I slowly open the door to find Letty at the desk.

“Leah!” She says with excitement.

“How are you Letty?” I ask as she gets up and greets me with a hug.

“I’m alright, as you can see my dad is keeping me busy.” She tells me as she shows the piles of folders on the desk.

“He’s just keeping you safe.” I assure her.

“That’s what they keep telling me.” She says as she sits back down.

“So, how is everything going? I’ve heard EZ and Angel have kept you busy.” She says with a small giggle.

“Boys, nothing good comes from them.” I respond shaking my head.

“I mean, some good things come from them.” Letty says with a wink.

“Jesus child, you’re not even legal to vote yet. Calm down.” I reprimand with a laugh.

Letty and I continue to catch up on life, she asks me a lot about the clinic and hospital.

I get lost in a daze and find myself snapping my ponytail on my wrist and then Letty snaps me out of it, “Leah are you alright?” She worriedly asks.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m good.” I say with a flat face, still snapping my pony-tail.

“Can I ask you something?” Letty asks sharply, yet eagerly.

“Of course, shoot.”

“I don’t want to upset you or anything, I’m genuinely curious about this and that’s why I’m asking; why do you snap that pony tail holder so often? Is it like a therapy thing?”

I’m a bit taken a back by her words, only because I’ve never had anyone question the ponytail before.

“Huh, that is a good question, Letty. Umm, I guess there is no easy way to come out and say this so here it goes; I use to cut myself when I was around your age. I was one of those teens that used this as a stupid coping mechanism when my mom was too drugged out to give a damn, or when her drug dealer boyfriend would knock me around – the last time I cut myself was last year and that’s because I was hurt really bad. Before that, I think I was around 21 when I last cut myself. I snap the pony tail whenever I feel nervous or anxious, figured it’s safer to snap elastic than use a blade.” I say with some humor because I hate serious talks, they just never end well in my history.

Leticia just stares at my wrist and then up at me, “Fuck, Leah. I’m so sorry – I had no idea.”

“Oh no, don’t apologize. You asked, I wanted to give you a truthful answer.” I reply with a smile.

“So, the hair tie prevents you from making the choice to cut yourself?” She asks.

“Yeah, it does. In rare moments when I’m not wearing one, it’s not for long. Just remember this, if you see a naked wrist for more than an hour,– that usually means something horrible happened and I’m being an idiot.”

I leave Letty to finish up the work Coco had left for her.

As I walk through the yard, I see a lot more people are here. Women, their kids, other friends of the club are all here for a big 4th of July bash.

I see a few of the boys on the grill, prepping for the big feast. Everyone is smiling, laughing, music is playing; it’s perfect, in a very dysfunctional biker way.

I make my way to the door of the clubhouse and that’s when I hear a roar of bikes.

Oakland is here.

I rush inside as if it’s my safe zone.

I see EZ and Gilly by the pool table, Angel is on the couch with a few whores hanging on him. I go by EZ, I know he’ll keep me safe.

My stomach is in knots, as I know Erik is here. I haven’t seen him, but I just know it. I don’t want him to walk in here, but I almost want him to so I can get this over with.

Jesus, I need Kendra.

As I watch the guys play pool, I reach in my pocket for my phone so I can text Kendra yet again.

“When will you be here? I need you.” I type out and press send.

“I just woke up, I’ll be there in a little.” Kenz replies.

I let out a sigh, wishing my best friend would just hurry her ass up.

“Everything alright, Lee?” EZ asks as he heard my sigh.

“Yeah, I just want Kenz to be here already.” I admit.

“I think she’ll be here in a little.” He says.

“Oh will she now? You know her schedule now?” I tease. EZ just flashes me a big smile.

“Hey guys, food is ready!” Riz comes in and announces. Most of the crowd inside heads outside, some remain inside and snack on what is remaining at the table.

I opt to stay inside because no Oakland guys have come inside yet.

I’m safe.

EZ is still in here.

I’m protected.

I do not have to be afraid.

I pick at my pasta salad, the nerves are still there.

You know that feeling you get when you just know something is about to happen, you just want that moment to happen and get over with already? That’s me, right now.

Just let Erik walk in, let me see him and then I can make my exit, I think to myself.

I get up to throw away my plate and that is when the clubhouse door opens and my stomach drops.

He’s here.

I look to the door, and a handful of the Oakland guys have now entered.

I’m about to head back by the pool table, but I see EZ heading towards the door.

“I’m gonna be outside for a bit, Kendra is coming now.” He informs me and then as quickly as he informed me, he’s out the door.

A handful of MC friends are now inside, and Angel, He’s at the bar.

I figure this is my chance, I can go make nice with him and use him as my distraction to keep Erik away.

“Hey Angel.” I say as I shimmy between the bar chairs.

“What do you want?” He spits.

“Can’t I just say hi?” I ask.

“Come on, Leah. That’s never the case with us, we never just say ‘hi’”.

He has a point, but I don’t have the time for his logic right now.

“Okay, I umm…I just wanted to talk to you, I first wanted to say I’m sorry to hear about you and Adelita and to also apologize for going off on her the last time we were all in here.”

Angel looks at me, I’m looking at the ground nervously and I feel his gaze on me. I slowly look up, and he’s searching for words.

Just as he’s about to say something, an arm snakes around my waist.

Erik.

“Aleeah, mami. Is this where you have been hiding? Why you hiding baby? You should be out there partying with everyone else.”

“Erik, leave me alone.” I say as I remove his arm from my waist, but he then places his arm there again.

“That’s not so nice, baby. Why you gotta be so rude?” He asks as he rubs my cheek, and I backhand his arm.

“Ooo, still feisty I see.”

“Erik, you’re being rude. Can’t you see I’m talking to Angel?” I motion.

“Oh, we’re done talking.” Angel interjects.

“Angel wait, we need to finish talking. Please, I’m begging you.” I plead as Erik’s grip on my waist gets tighter.

“I love to hear you beg, Mami. Come on, let’s take this party to the next room.” Erik says low, but it’s loud enough for Angel to hear.

“It appears you have someone else wanting your attention, Leah. Have fun.” He says as he walks away and that is when all hope of mine is gone.

I look around the clubhouse and there is not one familiar face around, and now Erik has tightened his grip on my wrists.

“That’s better.” He whispers in my ear.

“Erik, no. Please, please stop whatever this is. I’m not interested.” I beg as I try to push him off of me.

“You know the more you say no, or the more you beg for me to stop, it just turns me on more, baby. Come on, let’s have some fun. I need to show you what you missed out at the last party.” He creepishly says as he runs his finger along my jaw.

I can feel tears forming in my eyes, “No, Erik. Please, stop. Let’s go outside.” I try to suggest.

It’s then when he grabs my face and whispers in my ear, “Nobody gets to see what I’m about to do to you. That’s a private matter, mami. C’mon, lets go.” He says as he now his hand over my mouth to keep me quiet.

I want to scream, but I’m frozen in fear.

He then guides me to one of the rooms down the hall, I drag my feet but he then pulls my hair.

“Let’s go slut, I need to remind you of a few things.” He says as he closes the door. I try to scream but he slaps my face before a sound escapes.

“Don’t be stupid, Leah. Don’t fight me, baby.” He tells me as me touches my face and traces my body with his slimey fingers that makes my body quiver in the worst way.

“Erik, no. please, stop.” I beg as the tears start rolling down my cheeks.

He laughs. He fucking laughs.

He’s holding my wrists so tight, I can’t move if I tried - I’m frozen.

I want to fight, I try to wiggle around him, I try to knee him, I try to hit him. That only results in more bitch slaps and hair pulls.

My poor effort to escape is fading, I almost wish he would just kill me instead, at least I wouldn’t have to relive this pain again.

I then hear a zipper unzip, and I feel his breath on the back of my neck.

It’s happening. Again.

My worst nightmare is happening again, and I’m helpless.

#Saving You #Leah Parker #Angel Reyes #EZ Reyes #Mayans MC #My Writing

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nala-calame · 5 years

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Meet The Parents || Wolf Lioness

Summary: Adam and Nala host a Thanksgiving Dinner for the Calames. Nala’s father launches an interrogation.

@chewbacca-adam

ADAM:

Somehow Nala had convinced Adam to host a Thanksgiving dinner. When he’d suggested celebrating American holidays it had been in jest. A tease because, yeah, Thanksgiving was coming up but they had been discussing mistletoe and he’d been thinking about it hanging up around the castle, catching Nala underneath it. The text had just happened and all of a sudden he was inviting her and her family to Thanksgiving dinner.

Thankfully Nala, being the planner she was, had dedicated an entire binder to the affair. There were cooking schedules, a small guest list, his best china picked out to use, and an actual spread as to how everything would be arranged. Of course, with anything that was planned at the castle she had included him in everything. They’d spent the days leading up to the day in his kitchen and dining room figuring everything out.

And now with the groceries purchased, the turkey cooking in the oven, and a moment to breathe, all there was left to do was wait.

The idea of meeting Nala’s parents… Of having a sit down meal with them over an American holiday set his stomach in knots. He wasn’t stupid. He knew what Thanksgiving was, how it had come about. But this day, at least to him, was for giving thanks for what he had. And he had a lot. Even more now that he was with Nala and a part of an actual pack. But he was aware that most people did not see it that way.

“They won’t…. They won’t think I’m some barbarian because this is the holiday we’re meeting, will they?” Adam asked from his place at the counter. He’d been mashing up the potatoes when the thought had entered his mind and he’d had the need to voice it.

NALA:

Nala was excited.

Nala was also terrified.

Here was the secret-- see, her parents had actually never met one of her boyfriends. This was partially because her father was one of those extremely intimidating traditional Kenyan fathers and partially because Nala never had a boyfriend who lasted long enough for Nala to want him to meet her parents. The latter fact was of course extremely pathetic and she was happy that thus far she and Adam had avoided swapping their dating histories, both of them out of mutual respect-- especially because Nala was pretty sure, considering what Adam said about how he used to be, he had been some sort of serial dater with so much experience and she was entirely out of her depth--

See! Best just not think about it!

But that meant this was going to be a first for Nala and she didn’t know how it was going to go. Whenever her father had talked about Nala dating, he’d deadpanned in that charming, very dry humour of his about how she was not allowed to date until she was married, or that he expected to see the boy’s resume beforehand, and also that she better date a good Muslim boy or he would fall very ill from heartache… but Nala always laughed these off because surely he was just kidding.

And her mother would laugh too! And even her father-- before, er, getting a very serious face on and saying, You listen to your baba, malaika.

But it had been many months now that she had been dating Adam, and she had told her daddy many months ago. He’d made a kind of snorting noise when she’d confirmed that no, he was not Muslim, but he also had not fallen ill from heartache and Nala considered this a win-win.

Why stress out Adam with any of this though? There was no point and so Nala had told Adam that her parents were so excited to meet him and were very touched that he invited them in the first place.

Nala had just finished setting the table and wandered in to hear Adam’s question. She put on a big smile just for him. “Oh no babe, not at all!” she said cheerfully (maybe a little too cheerfully...but she was excited!! Really!!) She came round to kiss his cheek and touch his arm. “In fact, my mama was saying she was so pleased that we’d get to share one of your traditions. We know not all cultures are perfect and-- let’s be honest, there are more problematic things in today’s America than Thanksgiving.” She raised her eyebrows at him suggestively; she was pretty sure he knew what she was talking about.

“But traditions are so important to my family, so it’s good that they’re important to you too, hmm?”

ADAM:

For the most part, Adam wanted to believe her. He wanted to be less nervous about this, about everything. But all he could think about was the large parties his parents had thrown. How they were the talk of the social circles and were expected to be extravagant events. This was nothing compared to the Thanksgiving dinners his parents had thrown.

But those parties had also been so impersonal. Just a group of people gathered to brag about what they had and how they had acheived it.

So while Nala talked about tradition, Adam couldn’t help but think that he didn’t really have one. He was just winging this because he was American and a part of him missed that. Not the parties, of course, those had been boring affairs with stuffy billionaires. He missed the way his nannies would try to teach him about the holidays. What they meant and why they were celebrated. The little gifts that were sometimes laid on his bed; reminders that even if he acted like a brat there were still people that cared about him, even if those people weren’t his parents. It was those thoughts that made it easier to even want to start those traditions.

“Yeah..” he huffed out a laugh, knowing exactly what she meant. The whole country had gone to hell. Made him glad he’d gotten out when he had. “Sure as hell isn’t the same as it used to be. That cheese puff screwed everything up.” Though, Adam didn’t feel he had any say simply because he hadn’t voted, hadn’t been a citizen of the States in years.

But he felt slightly reassured by her kiss and her words. It wouldn’t be all bad. Not if they were coming willingly…

The thought was cut off as heard footsteps followed quickly by three knocks on the door. He looked to Nala then, just a bit of that insecurity showing on his features as he stepped away from the counter. “I should get that, huh?” Adam said, a nervous smile playing over his lips. He grabbed the dish towel and wiped his hands on them before scratching at the light scruff that coated his cheeks. Maybe he should have shaved for this dinner. He looked a bit rough with it but… He hadn’t thought of that.

He moved from the kitchen quickly, crossing through the living room and den before getting to the door. He could smell her parents stronger there and it did nothing to calm the nerves that had suddenly caught up to him. Another gulp and then he pulled the door open, smiling as warmly as he could. “H-Hello, Mister and Mrs Calame. Uh--- Come… Come in.”

NALA:

Nala had another speech coming, a speech that included compliments that Sarafina had made in different conversations that Nala had had with her mother. Sure, they weren’t direct compliments-- That boy must be doing somethin’ right if you’re still with him-- but Nala considered them, at the very least, compliment-lite. And she figured that Adam would need as much cheerleading as possible to boost his confidence before--

Knock knock knock.

Before the knock. Before the descent. Before right now.

She glanced toward the door and was about to offer to answer it herself, let Adam position himself as a kitchen and use food prep as excuse, but her boyfriend surprised her. The surprise showed on her face as she pulled away-- eyebrows lifted and a small smile sneaking on her lips. She was impressed. This was the perfect level of confidence. Maybe he didn’t need compliments after all.

“I’ll come with you!” she volunteered anyway and scurried along his side-- complimenting him anyway too. “You’re gonna do great, babe, seriously, my mom already loves you, my dad-- just has a dry sense of humour but I swear, he’s just kidding, just remember that, just laugh if you don’t know what to say-- they are so excited, I am so excited, okay, okay, I’ll stop talking now, just-- you look so handsome.” She said and kissed his cheek again before Adam opened the door. “Okay, now you can open it.”

Honestly, half of those things she said were to herself more than they were to Adam.

She said it again quietly before the door swung open: Baba is just kidding. It’s going to go great!

Then the door opened and there they were: Nala’s parents. Sarafina bustled in front first, with a massive smile and her arms outstretched. “Oh, there’s my Nala!” she cooed. Nala laughed and fell into the hug right away, squeezing her mama right on back.

“Oooh, something smells gooooooood!” Sarafina gasped as she pulled away. She turned to Adam-- and was still smiling. “C’mere boy-o, is that your cooking? Maybe we’ll have something to eat after all!” And with another laugh she went ahead and hugged Adam, patting him on the back. “And call me Sarafina, won’t you?”

Nala’s father shuffled in with less energy than Sarafina. But that was Okoth for you. He was always quite composed, an exacting man, everything in its place. He had worn a suit for the occasion which told Nala he was taking this very seriously. And though he did not beam at Adam, his lips twitched under his greying mustache. He extended his hand to Adam.

“Okoth Calame. You may call me-- Mr. Calame,” he said.

ADAM:

Immediately Adam smiled as he watched Nala with her mother. They were alike in so many ways. It was easy for him to see where exactly that sunny disposition Nala always had came from. And her energy. How many times had she greeted Adam in a similar way? He’d lost count. That energy was something he loved about Nala. No matter how late it was or how many hours she worked, each time they were together or met for lunch or had dinner, Nala was always full of life and excited. She made him excited for life. Had brought him out of his shell more and more the more they were together.

So it wasn’t strange, per say, when she turned to him with outstretched arms. It was only a little awkward for him to be showing this level of affection to someone he was just meeting but… It was Nala’s mother and-- he did want to be on good terms with them. There was a slight flush at her kind of (?) compliment. Of course he knew that Sarafina was a good cook. An amazing one, actually. Nala had made (not shared) some of her recipes and they’d even made her chili, and Adam had found each dish to be just as good as the next. Her thinking that their combined cooking smelled good was enough for him. “I-- I hope so. We’ve been cooking all day.” He gave her a soft smile, trying not to let any of his nerves show through.

Mr. Calame, on the other hand, made him nervous. There was no reading him, no trying to figure out what he was thinking. He took his hand, giving it a firm shake. A weak handshake on a first meeting was not acceptable. It was, actually, never acceptable. A man had show exactly who he was with that first shake. Adam desperately wanted Nala’s father to realize that he was a good man, that he was a good match for his daughter. Because Adam was trying. The boy he’d been ten years ago no longer existed. All of this was new for him.

“Mister Calame, it’s nice to meet you.” He gave a nod as he took a step back to stand next to Nala again. He wanted to reach out to her, either wrap an arm around her shoulder or tangle their fingers together, just for that extra vote of confidence he usually gained from her in moments he felt just a tad overwhelmed. He refrained, though, out of respect for her parents.

“There’s just a few more minutes left on the turkey. We can, uh, we can move to the den. It’s more comfortable than the foyer, I promise.”

NALA:

Nala watched, not at all nervous, as Adam shook her father’s hand. She stared intensely at it and a hundred different conversations leapt to the tip of her tongue as well. That was just Nala’s social training for you, wasn’t it? Especially when it came to Adam, Nala always felt primed to start or redirect interaction as needed. She didn’t mind doing that, by the way. It made her feel important sometimes and she got this warm, fuzzy feeling when Adam gave her a look that so clearly meant Thank you. Like she was a good girlfriend and everything.

But she had to refrain. Because this was her father and if there was one person on whom Nala’s social training did not particularly work all the time, it was Okoth Calame, for he knew how to cut straight to business. If he wanted to talk to Adam and only Adam, then that is what he would do. He would not be distracted or redirected. No matter how much Nala, or even his own wife, might try.

But this was fine! Okoth wasn’t exactly smiling, but he hadn’t launched into grilling Adam right away.

And Adam, he was brilliant. Polite, collected, confident. She’d kiss him if her parents weren’t right there.

“Yes,” said Nala’s father then to Adam. And that was all.

Nala couldn’t help but break in then. She took her father by the arm-- and this made Okoth smile-- and began to lead him toward the den, with Adam and Sarafina in tow. “Baba, you really should see all of the manor. It’s absolutely gorgeous. The architecture’s all been taken care of despite the age and-- oh, there’s so much artwork!”

She exchanged a look at Adam. This look said: remember the cheat sheet I prepared for you of my father’s interests?! Artwork! He collects artwork!

“Is that so?” said Okoth, a slight touch of amusement in his voice.

“Yes! Gorgeous stuff too, Adam knows more about the history of those pieces than me,” she said and looked at Adam again as they arrived in the den.

ADAM:

He was trying very hard to remember the cheat sheet that Nala had given him. He wanted to make a good impression on her parents. This was important to him, to her he assumed. Well, actually, he was certain that this was important to both of them. It was a big reason why he’d never done this whole routine before. Meeting parents was an important step and he realized that. Had to make sure that a good impression was made. For whatever reason it had been important to the girls he’d dated when he was younger. It was why he often left before it could even get to that point.

It was different with Nala, though.

There was no denying how much he cared for Nala. It had slowly crept up on him until it seemed obvious every time he looked at her. That flood of warm emotion whenever she caught his own gaze. This dinner showed that. A joke made into an actuality.

The walk to the den wasn’t a long one, thankfully, and Nala’s topic of conversation gave Adam an answer to what the hell was even on that list. His eyes caught Nala’s briefly as his lips turned up in a quick smile. Saving the day again. “My great grandmother thought the place needed more colors.” He said as a way of explanation. And, for all he knew, it was true. Some of the journals he’d read in the library hadn’t all been his grandfather’s. He wasn’t sure how exactly they had made it to the library but a part of him was grateful for them. They gave him an insight into just who his family here had been. Aside from the great-great grandfather who had been, for some reason, obsessed with werewolves and other magical creatures.

As was customary in the winter, and whenever there was someone who wasn’t a werewolf in the castle, there was a small fire already going. It crackled as everyone sat and, even though he wasn’t necessarily hot, he was grateful for it’s warmth. “A lot of the pieces she bought were from local artists. I’m still trying to catalogue them all.” He looked to the one that was hanging just above the mantle. “That one was done around 1855 by Waramunt Costantini. She has a few from him; I think he might have been one of her favorites.”

NALA:

Allah, she loved Adam.

The words struck her: three arrows, one for each. I love you, she thought as their eyes met and he smiled at her, before gently and easily sliding into conversation. I love you, she thought it again as he spoke of his family. He didn’t do it often, you see, but when he did… well, there had always been sadness in some tinges of his voice but now he seemed calm, even… happy?

She loved him. She wanted to tell him. She kept hiding it away like they were cards to be kept turned toward her, like this was all a game and she was waiting for him to play his hand first. And it wasn’t that she wanted to be told first for all those silly gender norms, but rather… if she said it, and he wasn’t ready…

Now wasn’t the time though. She had no idea why she was brimming with all these feelings right now, while her parents were not even a metre away.

Adam was just so...handsome. That must be it. He talked to her father like they were already friends. It was his confidence and his soft voice and the way he smiled. She loved him.

“Ah, that is a remarkable piece,” said Okoth as he gaze up at the portrait that Adam had referenced. “I could spend all day in this place, looking at such art. It is its own museum.”

“I told you so,” piped in Nala, grinning. “Didn’t I tell you so? He fixed it up nicely, yeah?”

Okoth snorted once and then remarked something in Swahili. It made Nala wrinkle her nose and roll her eyes. “Hush,” she said, glad for her dark cheeks, so they’d hide her blushing.

“Are you looking to expand your collection?” Her father turned the conversation back to Adam-- back to the art-- as he sat down on one of the couches. Nala sat next to him.

ADAM:

So far it seemed as if things were going well. Adam felt at ease talking about the things he knew. His great grandmother’s art, the age of the castle. They were easy topics for him simply because he’d spent so much time in the castle learning all he could about it. He knew there were secret passageways throughout the castle that had long since been abandoned. Some he’d ventured down but most remained untouched. If Okoth had any questions, Adam would surely be able to answer. It would only be when things turned to a different set of questions or interests that Adam would lose that calm and collected demeanor he wore as a mask.

Okoth complimented the piece and inwardly Adam beamed. He wanted the man to like him, wanted that approval and vindication that would come from having Nala’s father’s approval. “There are more pieces around the castle. I wouldn’t mind showing you them. There are some truly magnificent pieces in some of the other rooms. And most of them are from local artists over the years.” For the first time in a long time Adam was thankful for his family.

The next question gave him a bit of pause. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to collect more. Sure, he liked the pieces that had already been collected. They brought life to the rooms that no one had been in for a century or more. They gave life to the castle, period. But was he an avid art collector? He didn’t really think so. But he still was looking for something to fill his time and to do with his life. It had made him feel useful to repair the parts of the castle that had been in disrepair. Even getting some of the paintings restored had been satisfying. But still he wasn’t sure.

“Honestly, I’m not sure, sir.” He answered honestly. “I had never had an interest in art until I came here and started working on the castle. I definitely want to restore all the pieces here. A lot of them have sort of faded simply because of time and the fact no one was here taking care of things. Maybe once I finish that project I’ll look at more.” It was an honest answer, at least. Better than saying nothing or saying that he didn’t know. Especially because he did have a feeling that at some point he’d be buying more. “Nala’s told me that you collect art. If I were to start collecting are there any hints you could give?”

As he finished he looked over at Nala, giving her a hopeful sort of smile. He was trying his best to play to all those helpful hints she’d given him before her parents had arrived. And God was he thankful for her. It was a swell of emotion that filled him so quickly that it was almost scary. He hadn’t thought that they would have gotten to this point but he was glad that they had. Glad that he hadn’t managed to push her away out of fear or because he was too intense. He would do something for her after all this was over. Something special because if it wasn’t for her Adam wouldn’t be feeling comfortable talking to her intimidating father.

NALA:

Adam smiled at her and Nala smiled back. If she were younger, maybe she’d try to sneak two thumbs up his way. Silly, eh? But Adam deserved it. This was going better than Nala could have ever hoped, and it made her feel both giddy and embarrassed at herself for being so worried and drilling Adam so hard.

She shouldn’t have ever doubted. And just like that, Nala’s brain started whirring at top speed the way it liked to do...making plans for family vacations and, oh! Adam meeting her uncles and Cousin Hama! And more holidays to come, both Adam’s traditions and her traditions…!

Yes, she was getting ahead of herself.

Meanwhile, Sarafina sat next to Adam, opposite Nala, and caught her daughter’s eye. She wore a smirk on her face and she raised her eyebrows at Nala. Nala rolled her eyes back. This itself was its own conversation-- Sarafina reading Nala’s mind-- while Okoth talked to Adam.

“I don’t know about hints,” said Okoth and he chuckled. “So much depends on the tastes you cultivate and the space you have.” He gestured to the castle. “You could stay very true to the time period and the style of this castle. This perhaps would be the easiest, for you would narrow down the window. Though finding pieces to fit this castle I imagine would take much time and money, much hunting. You would need to be dedicated.”

“Oh Adam is very dedicated,” Nala piped in. “He helped plan the summer gala, which raised money for the VFD, Baba.”

“Ah.” Her father nodded. “Is that what you do? My daughter has not yet told me much about your occupation. Mostly about this castle.” He chuckled again.

ADAM:

In almost an instant Adam felt his feet get swept from underneath him. He hadn’t thought this question would come up. Not now at least. He’d been enjoying the present conversation. It had seemed that Okoth had been too. It had been foolish but Adam had begun to think that maybe this actual question wouldn’t come up. That he’d be able to stay on the list of topics that Nala had given him and everything would be fine.

But of course he didn’t have that luck.

At once he stammered, his reply to Okoth dying on his tongue. How could he tell his girlfriend’s father that he didn’t have a job. That all he could offer her was money and a castle. Adam didn’t have prospects. Not anymore. He hadn’t gone to college, hadn’t thought of getting a job until maybe a year or two ago. Of course he hadn’t acted upon it. Instead it had remained just a thought. Hell, he didn’t even know what he wanted to do.

Working with the VFD had been nice. It had given Adam a way to feel like he was useful. For a moment he’d thought that even with his wolf, he could help people. It was what he had wanted after he’d caused so much pain and suffering; so much death.

But he hadn’t done anything since that stupid invasion of the undead.

“I—Actually, Nala helped me plan that. It was just an idea I had.” He admitted it almost lamely as he turned to look at Nala briefly. He was so supremely screwed. This was one thing she couldn’t help him with. “I don’t actually…. that’s not what I do for a living. But I would like to— help people in some capacity…”

NALA:

Oh no.

Nala had really been hoping she could avoid this one topic of conversation. This hope was ultimately a foolish, useless one, since, to be honest, Okoth was most certainly a proud man and proudest of all of his work-- after his family of course. To him, working hard was the measure of good character. That was why Nala was Nala-- it meant success. And that is what Okoth wanted for her: success in all things through an ethic of hard work.

She had danced around the topic in all of their conversations prior, always coming up with something silly and funny to say when her father asked about Adam during one of their weekly phone chats. She wanted something funny to say now to break the tension-- distract her father-- spare Adam or give him a headstart so he could make a break for it--

Haha, just kidding, wouldn’t be that serious…

She didn’t think.

“Adam volunteers with the VFD, Baba,” she blurted out and grinned. “Isn’t that wonderful?”

“Ah, a volunteer,” said Okoth and he nodded. “And what about when he is not volunteering?”

“Well--” Nala’s tongue got stuck. “Um. Well, he’s-- between… jobs at the moment.”

She saw her father’s eyebrows raise for one second, and then furrow the next. Uh oh.

“I see,” he said. He looked at Adam directly. “What did you study in school? Perhaps I can help you find a position.”

“Baba!” Okoth held a hand up to signal Nala to shut up. Which...she did. Even Nala listened to her father.

ADAM:

With just a few words Adam went from feeling slightly okay to feeling like an insignificant speck of dust. How could he admit that he didn’t have more than a high school education? How could he admit that he didn’t have a job and had no idea where to start? He wasn’t some rich brat that lived off of his parents money; except he was. He was no better than the boys he’d grown up with who still had nothing to show for their lives.

How embarrassing it was.

He looked down as Okoth looked to him, his questions still hanging thick in the air.

Nala probably thought he was pathetic. Would no doubt end this once their dinner was over. She didn’t need some worthless boyfriend who was going nowhere in life. Adam wouldn’t blame her. He couldn’t.

“I didn’t study after high school,” he admitted carefully, quietly. He was ashamed of himself, even if the reason he hadn’t studied had been a legitimate one. “I wanted to. I had a place in Harvard but-- my parents were killed before the semester started and I left. The States. This place was in their will and I figured it was far enough away from everything.”

He gave a small shrug as he finished speaking, not sure how else to go on. Either way his lack of success was an embarrassment and in no way was Adam good enough for their daughter. They’d see that and so would Nala.

All he could do was prepare for the worst.

NALA:

Yallah.

Nala wanted to kneel down and pray now. She wished Adam had just lied-- which...was a bad thing, she knew, to wish for. She should be proud of Adam. And she was proud of Adam, really! She was so proud of all his progress, so proud of the castle, the VFD, all the good things he had accomplished. She’d watched him grow and knew how far he had come. Little by little, he’d emerged from his so-called hermit crab shell.

But her baba didn’t see all those things. Her baba didn’t know. And Nala couldn’t defend him, because if she did, she knew it would just make this whole thing worse. He wouldn’t see those incremental changes for what they really were.

This was the man who asked to see the resumes of boys who were interested in her!

She swallowed, her hands folding into fists on her lap.

“Ah,” uttered Okoth.

“I’m so sorry to hear about your parents,” broke in Sarafina, who reached forward and clasped Adam’s shoulder. Ah, bless her mama. Maybe Allah was listening after all.

“Yes, that’s very unfortunate,” echoed Okoth. “It is unfortunate too that you never went back.”

“Baba,” Nala said, voice sharper.

“What? I speak as a parent. I would want my child to live a fuller, richer life after my passing. That’s how a child honors their parent, Nala.”

“Well-- it’s not so easy--”

“I never said these things were easy. Nothing worth having ever is. But that is why you work hard.”

ADAM:

For a brief moment Adam wanted to melt into the carpet. Wished that instead of lycanthropy he’d been cursed with random invisibility. He could feel the waves of judgement rolling off of Nala’s father and it soured his stomach. This was not the impression that he wanted to give. A useless recluse who collected art. Ha! He could just imagine the conversation between Nala and her father when this was all said and done.

Sarafina’s hand on his shoulder was sudden and unexpected. Adam tensed just slightly before relaxing. “Thank you,” He murmured, giving her the faintest of smiles. She was a sweet woman. He liked her, just as he liked Okoth. They were good people; devoted and full of love.

That softness was gone in the next moment, Mr. Calame’s words piercing the air once more with what felt like disappointment. All Adam could do was nod, even as Nala tried to interject. As much as he appreciated her in that moment he knew that he would have to face this himself. “It’s okay,” he said softly, looking to Nala with a terse smile. “I know. I stopped living after their death. If it hadn’t been for Nala and my friend Belle, I probably would still be that way.

“I’d like to go back to school. Maybe not Harvard, I’m not sure I could handle that much change right now. But I have time and I have money and I’d like to find my own calling helping people. If there’s one thing Nala’s taught me since we’ve been together it’s that sometimes the biggest reward comes from helping others achieve.”

NALA:

Nala was so tense she thought she might snap in half. She knew her father would not tolerate any excuse. It mattered little if Adam had frikkin cancer-- Okoth had once just been a son of a farmer, the oldest of four. He’d worked since he was small and had to drop out of school two different times. But he always went back. And she knew that her father would wonder why Adam-- rich, privileged, white Adam-- could not find the same metal to do so.

And she loved her daddy. She loved his determination and work ethic and she understood his story. She just wished he’d chill for a second and remember that everyone was different. A little bit of empathy, that’s all she wanted--

But Okoth was more interested in results. Well. At least for a boy who was dating her daughter. To his credit, Okoth would not be nearly as judgmental if Adam wasn’t her boyfriend.

Slowly, her daddy nodded. “Pride University has many good programs,” he said-- and this was Okoth’s quiet way of encouragement. “Their social work program might be of interest to you. Simba Lyons is in it, isn’t he?”

“Education, Baba,” Nala corrected. “Though it’s housed in the school for social work.”

“Ah, yes, yes. Another good career-- I was a school teacher, chemistry, before I came to work for InterPride,” said Okoth. “Tell me, Adam, what are your strengths? I am sure there’s a program for you at the university.”

ADAM:

While Adam had been thinking about going back to school, there hadn’t been much that he’d thought of doing. He just knew that he wanted to help people. It was the opposite of what his parents had done. They’d taken from people, uncaring of who they hurt or what means they had to go through to get what they wanted. All they cared about was their business and the money it gave them.

Adam didn’t want to be like that.

Okoth brought him out of his thoughts quickly and almost abruptly but that didn’t deter Adam. He knew what he was good at. Or… he knew what he had been good at. Talking to people, getting people to talk to him. He made friends easily and he could tell when he was being played. He had a head for numbers, thanks to his father, and knew how to be organized. He was a leader despite not wanting to be one. He was a businessman with a heart. What could he do with that?

“I don’t mean any offense, Mister Calame, but I don’t think teaching would be for me. I didn’t mind school but there wasn’t one singular subject that held my attention so wholly that I feel I could teach it.” He ducked his head slightly at that before rubbing his hands against his thighs to try and dry them just a bit.

“My parents-- Er, well, my father was grooming me to take over the family company,” he explained carefully. “I didn’t want it. Didn’t totally agree with everything it stood for. They were--- more concerned about the money rather than their clients.” He sighed, not wanting to go much further into it. “I know how to lead, get people to talk, know when they’re lying. And I was really good with numbers. Math and such.”

He took a breath, then, and looked towards Nala briefly. “But social work--- You mean like social workers, the people who deal with broken families and kids that are put in foster homes?”

NALA:

You know, her father asked a good question, one that Nala wondered if she knew the answer to. What were Adam’s strengths?

Not-- you know, not like personal strengths. She knew of the strength and fortitude of Adam’s moral character. He was a good man. Kind. Gentle. Quiet, but honest. He cared for flowers and had an eye for beauty and had, under the tough exterior, a beautiful heart that wanted to do good things for people. That bieng said, er...well Nala had sort of handled the planning for most of his fundraiser. So she couldn’t speak much to his management skills. Or his organization. Or… er… well-- anything.

And she didn’t know what he was passionate about besides the things that filled his hours-- his garden and his library, for example. She could talk to him endlessly about the books they read together and they went on long wonderful walks through the grounds. And she knew that he was fitness-minded and not a shabby cook.

But did any of that scream career? Nala wasn’t sure. And she felt embarrassed about that, like, shouldn’t she have, a long time ago, asked Adam some of these questions herself? In the past, she never would have dated a bloke like Adam-- that is, a bloke that had no job and seemingly no ambition.

She was shocked at herself. She was impressed with herself. She supposed Simba would call it character growth, ignoring her list and loving Adam despite it all. But she think she might have overcorrected a little, having not talked to him about it at all.

“There are many types of social work,” continued Okoth, redirecting Nala’s attention to her father again. “Many do work with broken families or foster children, yes. But many others work in other facets-- in criminal justice, for example, or in hospitals. It is a very wide field from my understanding. InterPride has case workers too, for example, who help families find affordable, safe housing.”

Nala blinked. “That-- that’s true!” She sat up a little straighter. Could Adam work at InterPride? “And we have case workers who work in our education initiatives too, if you wanted to work with children. There are-- internships! If you want, I could arrange an informational interview.”

“A good idea,” said Okoth with a firm nod.

ADAM:

Okoth was bombarding him with information, with ideas. It had been a long time since he’d thought about his future. For so long he hadn’t thought he’d have one. All he’d been concerned about was punishing himself and paying for everything he’d done in his past. Part of him knew that he was still making up for it but it wasn’t such a severe punishment. Slowly he was coming to know that in order to truly repent for what he’d done, he had to be better. Do better.

That’s what this conversation was about. Doing better.

“I think-- I mean, I want to do more research on it. Talk to the people at PrideU and-- an informational interview with InterPride would be good.” He gave Nala a small smile before turning to look back at her father. He was an admirable man. Stern but it was becoming easier to see that it came from a place of concern. Adam could understand it. Had felt a bit of it when he and Nala had taken care of their little Cherri. She’d been little but Adam had known very, very deep down that no matter what he wanted the best for her. It was clear to him, in that moment, that was what Okoth wanted for Nala.

And he would respect that. He would become that for her because Adam cared about her. It hit him so suddenly that for a moment he felt dizzy with it. He did love Nala. Had for some time, if the way he often looked at her and thought about her was anything to go by.

“I know I’m not exactly any father’s ideal man for their daughter but I want to be.” He said this softly yet firmly as he looked to Okoth. He wanted his approval. Wanted to let the older man know that he would do whatever it took to be worthy of Nala.

NALA:

Nala wanted to be annoyed at her father for being much too harsh and judging Adam the way that he had. She had started planning her own confrontation after dinner, when she and her parents left and she could rail against her father in private. Not that it would have done much, but it would help her release some of her own hot air and make her feel like a better girlfriend--

But Nala had to admit, Okoth had a point. And she’d gotten caught up in Okoth’s hot air, and she couldn’t even be that mad because social work was a good idea for Adam. It wasn’t like Nala’s job-- meeting after meeting, budgetary balancing, all the ins and outs of management. No, it was personal. One-on-one work. And she could see Adam sitting down with a troubled child, or perhaps with a family in need of assistance-- or even parents, looking to expand their own family.

He was attentive, a good listener, empathetic and kind. And because Nala was Nala, she found herself enthralled with the images and ready to spring into action. She could arrange an interview with the head of the department in the next five minutes-- after all, Nala had taken Thursday off, but the rest of InterPride was open.

Good thing that at that exact moment, before Nala could steamroll ahead, the oven dinged from the other room.

“Oh! That’ll be dinner,” said Nala. She blinked like she’d just woken up from some strange fever dream (which is how it really felt, to be honest, seeing Adam and her father in the same room.)

Okoth chuckled. “You might as well get that. I’ll stay here and get to know Adam more. I am sure he will impress me,” he added at one of Nala’s looks. Okoth glanced back at Adam. “He has resilience, Nala. And that is something any father would want for their daughter.”

Nala smiled sheepishly and she got up. “Well in that case… he still better be in one piece when I get back!” she pointed a finger at her dad playfully.

“I’ll help,” said Sarafina, and the two women left to go fetch dinner.

#wolf lioness #para

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devoncolegrove · 6 years

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Holding Two Truths

Life is often trying to find the balance between two conflicting ideas. I’ll give you a couple of examples to explain my point a little better.

Yesterday I was on a hike with one of the other volunteers who lives close-by. We started in a fairly large city where she lives and then headed out on a micro (imagine church van but smaller), and got to one of the aldeas (villages). From there we set off on foot and meandered through two other aldeas before getting to the trail that leads to another aldea literally on top of this mountain which has no roads or way of getting there except by foot. The hike is about a 3,000 ft climb and it wanders through cornfields and pine forest before eventually topping out among a rock-strewn, cold, eerie plateau. Instead of fences made of barb-wire and wooden posts, the fences consisted of a small wooden gate and rocks stacked about four feet high. I felt like I had walked into a different world, or perhaps Ireland 500 years ago. We strolled down to the town which consists of about 20 houses or so and one of them had a sign that said “tienda” with an arrow pointing toward a small window where a few small belongings were kept. As we stared in the window all we saw where a few small packages of Tortrix (national snack of Guate), beans in a can, and a few beverages. We bought some chips and beans and headed toward a perch to enjoy your well-earned snack. As we rested and chatted I thought about how different this was from my life the past four summers in Colorado where I would often see dozens of people on the trail all elbowing for the same ‘Instagram photos’ to show how cool their summer vacation was. In contrast, we had met maybe ten people who were all indigenous Mayans. This isn’t meant as a bash on Colorado, only meant to point out the grand differences.

As we ate our ‘frijoles con pan’ we talked about our mixed feelings being there. The people in the village were not accustomed to foreigners, and understandably so since it was so far removed from everywhere and everything. They looked at us with distrust and instead of the normal warm Guatemalan greeting we were met with looks of puzzlement. I was so grateful to my friend for showing me the new ‘hike’ with all its wildness and isolation. While hiking I often imagined that this is what tourists hope for when they buy that plane ticket to come to Guatemala, but instead they’re met with bustling crowds, street vendors, and hostels. I wanted to tell my friends about what a ‘treasure’ I had found so that everyone I know can come and do it as well, but wouldn’t it then lose its wildness? This isn’t just a hike through a National Park like I’m accustomed to, this is peoples’ lives. People live and work here, and do I really want a caravan of foreigners to come in and ruin the peace and quiet that we experienced yesterday? My conflict lies in wanting to show others a beautiful part of this country that I’m falling in love with, while at the same time respecting the lives and values of the Guatemalans that make the country so beautiful. I don’t want to turn their livelihoods into a tourist attraction regardless of how beautiful and wild their homes are.

The second example comes from living with an indigenous Mayan host family. They speak a native dialect called Ixil that has been spoken for who knows how long. There are only three towns in the country (and world for that matter) that speak Ixil and all three of the towns speak a different dialect, so much so that the people from my town prefer to speak in Spanish when visiting the other two towns even though the language is technically the same. Talking with other volunteers this can often be a point of frustration and contention because they don’t feel included in group conversations. For instance, I went with my work partner to give a charla (talk) on nutrition and most of the women attending the talk only spoke in Ixil so my work partner gave the whole thing in Ixil and me and my friend were lost pretty much all of the time. Input becomes practically impossible when you can’t even figure out the context of what is being said. This is not a one time incident by any means. After talking with other Volunteers and experiencing other meetings or charlas myself, this seems to be a regular occurrence. It’s only human nature to want to feel included and know what’s going on, right?

The way this is manifested is that the majority of classes that are taught in schools in this region are taught in Spanish because that is the national language. With this comes the gradual loss of indigenous languages whether that’s the intended consequence or not. Thus, as David Orr says, “Education has become a great homogenizing force undermining local knowledge, indigenous languages, and the self-confidence of placed people.” As I’ve witnessed from first-hand experience the first generation to learn Spanish can still speak the local language as well as Spanish. The next can understand the local language, but not speak it, and by the third generation it tends to be lost altogether. Obviously, that is a great generalization, but it has tended to hold true in the circles I’ve been around.

The conflict of this whole situation is that I want my host family to speak in Spanish. I want to know what they are saying, to laugh at their jokes, and to get to know them as people, but that can be challenging when they are only speaking in Ixil amongst each other and I only know about ten phrases in Ixil so even grasping the theme is difficult. The other frustrating part is that I know that the majority of them speak fairly good Spanish so it wouldn’t be that hard for them to switch when I’m around; however, my host mother doesn’t speak much Spanish so out of respect for her they only really speak Ixil when she is around. Nevertheless, it’s a challenging balance because I want to speak Spanish, but I want to respect their right to speak their language, because after all, I’m the one who came into their world and they have embraced me with open arms. Such is the life of holding two truths and seeing the world as it truly is – a few streaks of black and white with a whole universe of grey.

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gospacegay · 7 years

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LRTIHEW: Part Thirteen

The title stands for “Longest Rusame Thing I Have Ever Written”. Although I fixed/removed wrong USA government references, a few may remain. And yes, I was super hooked on Yuri on ice when I originally wrote this section. I probably named a dozen things Yuri, out of total feels and mush.

First Chapter: https://gospacegay.tumblr.com/post/165808913233/lrtihew-part-one

Previous Chapter: https://gospacegay.tumblr.com/post/166240484893/lrtihew-part-twelve

There is swearing, fluff, eventual smut, insanity, and lord knows what else

Shuffling out of his seat to the aisle, Ivan walked right up to the nervous man. “I know who you are. If you do not come with me, I will inform security.” Ivan greeted coldly. The stranger paled, then nodded. “Lead the way.” he replied. Ivan immediately recognized the accent as one of his dear sister Ekaterina. He was less than amused with his oldest sibling. The scared Ukrainian man followed him right into the men's bathroom.

“Who sent you?” Ivan demanded in Russian, blocking the exit out. Slipping on leather gloves, the tall nation grinned maliciously. The scared assassin remained silent, pulling a gun from his pocket. He pointed the gun at Ivan, shouting something angry and Ukrainian tinted. “I know. I know Kozloff is one of your little pets, your spies. My people know this is all a plan of the Russian government, to take over from inside. Russia is a disease, and killing your pet president will stop outbreak.” The assassin threatened, waving his gun around as he bragged.

Ivan charged as soon as the gun was pointed away from his person. The gun was literally ripped from the human's hand, dislocating the thumb. “It is a shame you are so stupid.” Ivan purred darkly, locking the man in a painful arm bar with frightening agility. Forcing the man to his knees before a toilet, Ivan heard him whimper “My people will rebel, Ukraine will show the world that Russia is evil.”

“So cute.” Ivan hummed, forcing the man's face into the toilet water. He was sure to use light even pressure. Whenever the Russian dumped the body in the nearest lake, it would simply look like a drowning. There was thrashing and struggling for several minutes. After a while, it weakened and stopped. Ivan held the face down a bit longer, just to be certain.

As usual, Alfred had a horrible sense of timing. He pushed through the bathroom doors as Ivan dragged the lifeless corpse from the toilet area. “Hey you're about to miss the speech big guy!” the honey blond greeted only to sigh and cover his face with a both hands. “Why? Why do I always find you doing something gross? You just can't control yourself, can you?” he groaned, looking away. The younger nation paced, shooting accusative glances at Ivan several times. “You know what? I honestly don't care. Shove it in the car trunk and I'll talk about it later.” America finally decided, tossing car keys at Russia's body.

Pleased, Ivan randomly gave Alfred a squeeze. He had suspected Alfred was attempting some form of friendship. “You are a most wonderful host, Alfred.” the Russian commended joyfully. “You are a god damn psychopath. Just don't ruin the party.” the American dismissed, stomping out of the room.

The key to carrying a body from the scene of a crime was to be confident. Ivan had done this enough times that he didn't break stride. The corpse slumped over his shoulder wasn't even rolled in a carpet, or anything equally silly. Strolling through the main lobby, there was a few employees watching. “Some people don't know when to stop partying, huh?” one noted as he watched Ivan intently.

“Yes, it seems that way unfortunately.” Ivan half-lied with ease, waving to them with a free hand. Let the fools assume whatever they wanted. He could just kill them too if they questioned his actions. Stashing the body in the cramped trunk was difficult, but not impossible. The Russian missed the days when cars had bigger trunks. Back then you could stash a body, and still have plenty of room for your vacation luggage.

Ivan barely slipped into his seat before the speech on stage began. The American president was walking on stage, a thunderous cheer greeting him. The dark haired president adjusted his glasses as he took the microphone off it's central stand. After tapping the device to check it, he began.

“Hello everyone. I'm so honored to be here. To be your next president. I feel so loved, to have been chosen when my name was not even on the ballots.” he started, barely present Russian accent thicker from anxiety. There was a ripple of laughter in the crowd. “When my parents fled Russia, they were welcomed to this beautiful country with love and open arms. Growing up, I was taught to count my blessings, and be patient. I count them now, for I am a blessed man. I grew up seeing the United states of America from below and above that thin line that separates the rich from the rest. I've known hardship and wealth, and I know one thing. America will be respected once again.” he paused dramatically, looking over the crowd.

“So I've invited, the senators, the CEO's, the foreign diplomats... All of these important members of society. I brought you all here to meet, to unify and learn. I hope we can all push towards a better America. My advisors actually prepared me a wonderful speech for the public address. I was going to repeat sections of it here, but I don't want to bore you fine citizens. Instead, I will be answering a few questions from the audience.” he continued, a low hush moving through the crowd.

It seemed questions had been filtered out for relevance and possible absurdity. Ivan was surprised the freshly appointed leader volunteered for a verbal attack on his first day. “As the two time senator for Nevada, I've heard a lot of presidential promises that never happened. What are you going to do that's so great?” a stocky man from the audience asked, handed a microphone by government muscle. Ivan was surprised at how accusative the question sounded. Didn't elected officials give respect here?

“I understand your frustrations senator. As a former member of the senate, I used to face these same problems every day. I do have a plan, unlike my predecessor.” Kozlov assured humorously, pausing before launching into another spiel. “The United States is not an island, or an isolated world. It is part of a massive community bound by trade and politics. These past twelve years, this wonderful country's relations with the community at large have been damaged. In the case of North and South Korea, irreparably so. We will not thrive alone, no matter how powerful we are.”

The mature words seemed to stun the more jaded aristocrats. Ivan was so proud at this moment, heart thundering. His spies had done so well. Kozlov continued boldly, “I plan to reach out to the Russian, Chinese, and German governments. These foreign powers are fierce enemies, but even greater allies. I want the government to harmonize global trades, and be more hospitable to immigrants like my own parents. There will be financial incentives involved, no doubt. If I have enough time near to end of my term, I will attempt communications with other world leaders.”

The questions went on for an hour in this manner. Ivan was thoroughly impressed by the mature displays as CEOs, powerful stock traders, and senators figuratively attacked his plans via microphone. Not once did Yuri Kozlov stumble into a poorly worded trap of his own making. Wondering how Alfred was fairing in all this, the Russian looked a few seats down.

In the dim light, America's face looked wet with tears as he smiled. Ivan had only seem him this happy once before, when President Washington first addressed his public as a free country. The sight of such joy in a living nation was a rare jewel to be savored. Ivan couldn't even remember being that happy since the formation of the soviet union. Taking a picture in stealthy fashion, Ivan returned his full attention to the president on stage.

#rusame #russia #america #amerus #hetalia #story

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noplanwithavan · 7 years

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THE STUFF OF LEGENDS

Our voyage through the ancient world continues. Leaving behind the Romans, sailing East, and journeying deeper into the Hellenic world. We’ve come ashore in Greece, and life is sweet here. I mean seriously sweet. Must be all the halva, honey and Easter eggs.

To get here, from Sicily we crossed the toe of Italy, arched around its instep, and arrived somewhere near the top of the high heel for a pressing assignation. We’d committed ourselves to the labours of HelpEx, having been accepted on a family small-holding in Mola di Bari. Yearning for a bit more interaction and social life, this seemed the perfect way to get under the skin - and into the kitchens - of Italian life. The girls bristled with excitement, keen to meet the family’s 8 year-old daughter named Fara. “Will it be like the olive farm we worked on in Spain?” they ask. Probably not, we say. It’s more domestic we think, not so much back-breaking work. “It’s kind of like the Roman times,” we explain “We offer to be slaves, and they feed us. Hopefully without the harsh punishment or threat of being thrown to the lions if we disobey.”

From the moment we arrived, there was a sense of familiarity, and it was clear we’d feel comfortable with Andrea, Angela and Fara. They welcomed us in to a large, round courtyard, an ancient gnarled olive tree at its centre, and a volley of yelping Italian children circling it by bike at the speed of charioteers racing the Circo Massimo. It soon became apparent the family had friends over, and Elsie and Lulu were immediately drawn into the melé, guided by the irresistible rules of play. As the sun went down the evening was warm enough to stay outside and enjoy focaccia, cheese and salad from their garden. It reminded Marcus of his family home in Pembrokeshire, Middlelands, in many ways. The same informality and open-house welcome. Throughout our week, as we worked in the garden this sense continued, people often dropping by, calling over. Meal times were sociable affairs, super-healthy and all vegetarian. There were no unhealthy snacks nor processed food of any kind in the house. So much so, they didn’t even possess a can opener. The girls responded well. They hero-worship Fara, following her lead in all things, even developing a taste for fennel, much to our surprise. During the mornings we’re left to get on with things by ourselves as the family worked and Fara went to school. Sometimes the girls would help us, other times they’d roam free, making up their own games, desperate for Fara to return home and lead the charge. At first it felt a bit strange, wandering around trying to find tools, or stopping for a snack and rummaging about in someone else’s kitchen. One morning I discovered a quote from Socrates pinned above a chalk-board. “Education is the kindling of a flame. Not the filling of a vessel,” it read. I had the simultaneous experience of agreeing profoundly, whilst at the same time wondering what to do if you suspected your kids needed a bloody blowtorch to get things lit. Nonetheless, it inspired me this quote, and I decided that incidental learning might be much less stressful. So they helped plant their own bed of wildflowers, and spent a morning in the vegetable patch studying and drawing the different shape leaves to identify which vegetables they would become. After a few days, we adjusted, found our pace, and fitted in with the family’s way of life. The work wasn’t hard - clearing plant beds, weeding paths, digging up trees which had self-seeded to replant elsewhere - but its the first physical work we’ve done for some time. Having thought this would be a breeze compared to olive harvesting, Marcus confesses he’s glad we’re only staying a week as he’s not sure his back can take much more. Trying to steer him on to lighter duties I volunteer his services in the cooking department, suggesting he make the family a curry. The idea gains traction, indeed becomes somewhat of “an event”. Despite the legendary devotion the Italians have for eating only their own, exceptionally local food, by the end of the week Marcus is consulting his brother’s “We Love Curry” pages. For come the weekend he’s headlining an Indian banquet for a gathering of our hosts’ close relatives and friends. Well, we all know he does love a dinner party, and we said we wanted to meet more people! The only complications being a complete lack of Italian on his part, and little to no idea of how many close relatives and friends might turn up. Saturday arrives, and our hosts Andrea and Angela drift off, busily engaged in their own respective tasks. Marcus is left alone to make the final preparations. Guests begin arriving and filter through the kitchen, their curiosity piqued by such un-Mediterranean, unfamiliar smells. One by one they try and strike up a dialogue, but necessity dictates small talk is limited. Sensing familiarity as they watch him stretching out dough on the kitchen worktop, the dinner guests try a different tack: “Pizza?” they opine. “No pizza,” he demurs. “Focaccia?” “No focaccia” he emphasises, this time batted away with a definitive hand-swipe. “Panzarotte?”…and on it goes, with a list of about 20 Italian forms of bread, none of which are what he is making. “Chapatis,” he ventures. “Curry, with chapatis.” But this is an enigma, and the growing swell of puzzled faces signals they have arrived at a conversational cul-de-sac.

Thankfully, the delicious food does all the talking, and even the most hardened regional food purist has to admit it. One man takes Marcus aside, “Thank you for your curry,” he confides. “Maybe I won’t eat again, but doesn’t mean I don’t like.” Then, continuing by way of clarification, “You see I only eat dishes from Bari. My wife is from Parma, but I don’t even let her cook food from her home town….unless we go there to visit her family.” Message received. In summary, partial success, but curry colonisation in Puglia remains far from complete.

Our time spent in the warmth of Fara’s family appears to have regenerated our social lives, and from Italy onwards we are constantly finding ourselves in good company. There is Ruth and Frank, the first campervanners we have met from Wales. The sight of the red dragon sicker on the back of their vehicle is such a surprise that we have to restrain ourselves from rushing out to greet them with open arms. We instantly take a liking to them, and within minutes of discussing where we’re from discover we have friends in common. A retired clown from Cardiff, Frank tells us he knows Tenby well, most fondly because of his pal there James Osbourn. From here, the conversation flows and I can’t remember quite how exactly but at some point it navigates around to toilets. (Probably something to do with it being Elsie’s specialist subject). Ruth offers to show the girls their loo.

“It’s a composting toilet, would you like to see it?” she beams. We all trail inside, fascinated to find out more. Is this even possible I think, and how does it not stink the place out in such a small space? Pulling out two large food recycling bins, courtesy of Cardiff City Council, from under the bed, Ruth begins to explain. The couple are clearly very proud of their ingenuity and challenge us to a poo test. This involves opening up each container in turn, inviting us to have a sniff, and then guess which one contains the poo. It’s actually surprisingly difficult, and we have to admit defeat. Thrilled, Ruth goes on to explain that one box contains just sawdust and ash, and the other human excrement which has been covered with said sawdust and ash. “It takes away the smell entirely,” she says. “You wouldn’t even know. Amazing isn’t it?” And it is, and I love her obvious delight at the mastery of such an unpleasant problem. Strange too how you can find yourself examining a another’s most taboo bodily function within half an hour of meeting them.

Some days later, we are in Polignano de Mare, a seaside town set atop rocks, narrow balconies overlooking the caves eroding beneath. It’s dramatic and precarious position has led to it being picked as one of the Red Bull Cliff Diving locations, like Abereiddy back at home. While we wait to catch the ferry to Greece, we spend a wonderful few sunny days here. It’s a chance to dust off the canoe and explore the pretty inlets and coastline. It’s also our last opportunity to scoff pizza, try interesting gelato combinations like fig and ricotta, and drink good wine. And while we won’t miss the driving in Italy, we will miss the country itself. It’s fresh vegetables packed with flavour, the approach they have towards children - letting them run free, with trust and respect. And the people who seem to live life the way they coach their little ones to tackle obstacles - “piano, piano” (slowly, slowly). We park right by the sea, and the girls go scrambling over the rocks, in search of the blowholes they can hear snoring like dragons. They bring back a little blonde-haired girl called Poppy. And by sunset the girls are tucked up in her distinctive pink old-style VW campervan watching a movie, while we invite her parents Jane and Steve over for a drink. I guess its not that much of a surprise that a family who are doing a year out just like us, and having travelled much of the same route, would have met some of the same people. But it’s still heartening somehow to discover that they have. It fosters our sense of a community on the road when we learn that they too spent time with the wonderful Hilary, Richard, Jess, Chippie and Bonnie, whom we enjoyed Christmas with in Tarifa.

From Bari, we sail to Petrás in Greece. From the ferry we sight the islands, craggy and wild, whetting our appetite for what this next country will have to offer. The almond trees have now been replaced by the bright pink blossom of Judas trees, yellow explosions of Broom, and the purple profusion of low-hanging wisteria draped by the roadside. Our first supermarket stop, near to the ancient sanctuary of Olympia, doesn’t disappoint. There is olive paste spread, an explosion of sesame goods in the forms of tahini and halva, a whole aisle dedicated to yoghurt. “What do they call Greek yoghurt here?” Marcus muses. “Just yoghurt?” And then there’s the filo pastry, a world of new cooking opportunities lay open before us! On reaching the meat counter we are momentarily overcome by the language barrier, indeed the whole different alphabet, rendering us clueless. Luckily, some improvisation prevails, and by saying, “Baaaaa!!!” to the man a few times, he soon catches on that I would like lamb. There are no small portions in Greece, and he hacks off such a large chunk, it keeps us going for 3 days.

But the best thing so far has to be embracing the whole incidental learning idea full tilt. This month its purely Classics. The girls are in their element - it’s all about stories after all, which they love, and everywhere you look there’s another reference to a legend, another piece of the historical puzzle which still resonates through our culture today. Our maths lesson before visiting Olympia was measuring distances. The girls had to mark out intervals of 1m until we reached the crucial 200m mark, the distance ancient athletes would sprint. Appreciation of the site itself taxes the imagination more than the ruins of Rome or Pompei. But from the layout and the thickness of some of the columns its possible to guess at how impressive it would once have been. As always the devil is in the detail, and we try and point out as much as we came to bring it all to life. The wide open space of the Palaestra where hey have a mock wrestle, the plinths lining the approach to the stadium which would have held bronze statues of Zeus, paid for by the fines of athletes who had cheated. The inscriptions still visible beneath bearing their names and city of birth. The cheap seats up high on Mount Kronos, filled by woman and slaves, which overlooks the track where the girls race. But it is one detail in particular that really tickles them - the fact that the ancient competitors would have all been naked. This steers Elsie’s mind back onto another of her favourite topics. In many ways an ancillary to toilets - that of winkles. And she enjoys a saunter around the museum gaping at all the parts of male anatomy on statuesque display. I can’t get over the impression of soft, see-through chiton material etched out of stone on the statue of Nike, or the perfect proportions in the face of Athena and Hermes. There is a whole room dedicated to the many small figurines, votive offerings, left at the temples of Zeus and Hera. Displayed, they look like an installation of battle, exquisite in their painstaking detail.

We have a book of “Greek Myths” for children (or Greek Miffs, as they pronounce it), which is our all important educational go-to-guide for this part of the trip. And it’s mind boggling how many places and sites we have seen which are referenced in those stories. In Italy the sirens in the story of Odysseus just off the coast of Naples, the cyclops in Sicily he defeats on Mount Etna. And here in Greece, the 12 labours of Heracles depicted on the Temple of Zeus in Olympia, the temples to the oracles on the wild Peloponnese, the beautiful town of Kardamyli (one of seven gifted by Agamemnon to Achilles in return for rejoining the battle of Troy), and finally the caves of Diros. Once we discover these caves are behind the tales about the River Styx, and the journey to the Underworld, we just have to go and take a look. Brushing up beforehand on the chapters about Pluto and Cerberus his 3-headed dog. Located on the Mani peninsula near the town of Aereopoli, they are an other-world experience, and its not hard to imagine why the Greeks thought they led to a different realm. Entering the caves from a stone beach, you climb down to an underground lake where a “ferryman” awaits to transport you through a network of waterways, a labyrinth of caverns and tunnels adorned with stalactites and stalagmites. Floating along on a narrow gondola, amid the humidity and drips from above, I’m sure it would have been quite a spiritual experience, if it wasn’t for the kids hassling us to change seats and let them have a go at taking pictures.

For the last week or so we have been winding our way down the central finger of the Peloponnese, from Pylos, Kardamyli, Stoupa, Agios Nikolaus, Aereopoli, and right to the tip at Porto Kagio. Free camping is no problem here, and we can pitch up right by a pebbled beach, string out the hammock and spend our days swimming, and eating outside. Our favourite dish is experimenting with home-made pastries. Using the filo Marcus has been trying out different filled parcels - savoury spinach and feta, and sweet combinations of apple and raisin, sesame, honey and pistachio. Over the last week we’ve met a few friendly German families at some of our camping spots, sharing breakfasts on the beach and relaxed mornings with time to teach the girls card tricks, and giving them responsibilities like the chance to be head chef and make lunch for us, or earn extra pocket money by washing up.

The further south we travel, the wilder and more remote the landscape becomes. The road curving inwards along the steep terraced ancient hillsides, carpeted with wildflowers and punctuated by clusters of soft grey Mani tower houses. A few weeks ago we were inside the van discussing our concerns that the girls reading wasn’t improving greatly. They were both outside lobbing up sticks and any objects they could find into a large palm tree. At that moment Elsie burst in to ask if she could have a bowl because they were harvesting dates. As we stepped out to have a look, I had to smile. Remember Socrates, I thought. They weren’t actual dates, but they looked very similar. The girls might not be great readers just yet, but they can spend hours studying the many different shapes and varieties of plants we find here, and they can identify wild asparagus and fennel much better than I.

Easter is an important festival here in Greece, and we spent it in Kardamyli, smashing the bright red boiled eggs that symbolise the blood of Christ, and following the processions to the sound of church bells tolling out the call to worship. On Good Friday Marcus received a phonecall from his mum to say his beloved Grandmother, Gassie, had died at the age of 101. It was news he had been expecting for some time, yet forewarned and prepared as he was, it is never easy to be away from family at such a time. But thinking back on her legacy, and childhood memories of this unchanging constant in his life, it reaffirms why we are doing this trip. The more the months slide by, the more aware we are how precious this experience is. Each photo, each place has a poignancy that wasn’t there at the start. To spend this time with each other, to experience ourselves close-up it almost seems, is our gift and legacy to our children. One we hope will endure.

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learningrendezvous · 4 years

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Issues in Education

DAY ONE

Directed by Lori Miller

Traumatized Middle Eastern and African teen refugees are guided through a program of healing by devoted educators at a unique St. Louis public school for refugees only.

DAY ONE follows a group of teenage refugees from war-torn countries who are enrolled at a unique public school for refugees and immigrants-only in St. Louis, MO, where they are guided through an inspirational program of education, healing and trauma intervention by devoted educators, some of whom have chosen to relocate to the inner city to support their students.

Over the course of a year, we watch the kids progress through layers of grief and loss as they attend school, forge new friendships, and prepare to be mainstreamed into local public high schools. Their triumphs and tribulations all unfold with St. Louis as the backdrop: a rust-belt city that has taken the bold step of welcoming immigrants as a solution for their growing socio-economic problems.

DVD / 2019 / (Grades 6-12, College, Adults) / 82 minutes

KOSHIEN: JAPAN'S FIELD OF DREAMS

Director: Ema Ryan Yamazaki

Baseball is life for the die-hard competitors in the 100th annual Koshien, Japan's wildly popular national high school baseball championship, whose alumni include U.S. baseball star Shohei Ohtani and former Yankee Hideki Matsui. But for Coach Mizutani and his players, cleaning the grounds and greeting their guests are equally important as honing their baseball skills. In director Ema Ryan Yamazaki's dramatic and intimate journey to the heart of the Japanese national character, will those acts add up to victory or prove a relic of the past?

DVD (English, Japanese, With English Subtitles) / 2019 / 94 minutes

LET THEM EAT DIRT: THE HUNT FOR OUR KIDS' MISSING MICROBES

Directed by Rivkah Beth Medow, Brad Marshland

Looks at the role microbes play in the development, physical and mental health of our children, and argues that good health begins with kids playing in the dirt.

Allergies, obesity, asthma, diabetes, auto-immune and intestinal disorders are all on the rise, with the incidence of some diseases doubling every ten years. New research points to changes in the ecosystem of microbes that live on and inside every one of us -- our microbiomes -- as a major cause. But how could one's gut microbes increase the odds of developing conditions as radically different as asthma and diabetes?

Hosted by Good Morning America's Becky Worley, and based on the book of the same name by B. Brett Finlay, PhD and Marie-Claire Arrieta, PhD, LET THEM EAT DIRT features families, doctors, and researchers who are sleuthing out what's harming our microbes -- and what we can do to reverse this dangerous trend.

DVD / 2019 / (Grades 10-12, College, Adults) / 58 minutes

MONTESSORI: LET THE CHILD BE THE GUIDE

Director: Alexandre Mourot

"Education should not limit itself to seeking new methods for a mostly arid transmission of knowledge: its aim must be to give the necessary aid to human development." - Maria Montessori

Inherited from Maria Montessori in 1907, the Montessori Method is a child-centered educational philosophy that celebrates and nurtures each child's desire to learn - an approach valuing the human spirit and full development: physical, social, emotional and cognitive. The Montessori Method is increasing in popularity both in the U.S. and abroad.

Curious to see how the Method works first hand, filmmaker Alexandre Mourot sets his camera up in the oldest Montessori school in France (with kids from 3 to 6) and observes. He meets happy children, free to move around, working alone or in small groups. Some read, others make bread, do divisions, laugh or sleep. The teacher remains discreet. Children guide the filmmaker through the whole school year, helping him understand the magic of their autonomy and self-esteem - the seeds of a new society of peace and freedom, which Maria Montessori dedicated her life work to.

DVD (English & French w/English subtitles) / 2018 / 100 minutes

EARTH SEASONED, GAPYEAR

Directed by Molly Kreuzman

Diagnosed with learning difficulties, Tori finds her greatest teacher in nature, spending a "gap year" living semi-primitively with four other young women in Oregon's Cascade Mountains.

Earth Seasoned...#GapYear is the inspiring story of five young urban women who spend a gap year between high school and college living semi-primitively in a remote mountainside wilderness in Oregon. Told mainly through the story of Tori Davis, a teenager with learning difficulties, the film chronicles the group's four seasons in the woods as part of the Caretaker nature program. As the seasons succeed, the group has to adapt to what the wilderness provides and to what it withholds.

Through lyrical live action footage and smartly paced animation, the film reveals how separately and together the girls learn ancient skills of craftsmanship and teamwork and forge deep powers of resilience and self-reliance. Earth Seasoned has essential messages about talent, compassion and community and about the real conditions for human flourishing.

DVD / 2017 / (Grades 7-12, College, Adults) / 75 minutes

G IS FOR GUN: THE ARMING OF TEACHERS IN AMERICA

Directed by Kate Way, Julie Akeret

Explores both sides of the highly controversial trend of arming teachers and staff in America's K-12 schools.

G IS FOR GUN explores the highly controversial trend of armed faculty and staff in K-12 schools. Only five years ago this practice was practically unheard of, but since the Sandy Hook massacre in 2012, it has spread to as many as a dozen states. Often without public knowledge, there are teachers, administrators, custodians, nurses, and bus drivers carrying guns in America's schools.

G IS FOR GUN documents a growing program in Ohio that is training school staff to respond to active shooter situations with guns, and follows the story of one Ohio community divided over arming its teachers.

DVD / 2017 / (Grades 10-12, College, Adults) / 27 minutes

STILL WATERS

Directed by Peter Gordon

In his tiny, one-room, after hours, free school in Brooklyn, Stephen Haff teaches forty Hispanic kids reading, creative writing and Latin.

A remarkable one-room school in Brooklyn is facing a tough year. It's the run up to the US presidential election and anti-Latino rhetoric is ramped up--an extra source of tension for a hard-pressed Hispanic community already threatened by gentrification and eviction.

The school, Still Waters in a Storm, is the creation of Yale grad Stephen Haff. A passionate critic of mainstream education, he believes in the joy of learning without tests and the innate creativity of children and insists that the school is free. It survives precariously on the thinnest of shoestrings.

When regular school finishes, Still Waters starts working. Stephen and his group of children explore, with the help of illustrious guest writers like twice Booker Prizewinner Peter Carey, the power of storytelling, creativity and community. And along the way they discuss Donald Trump and gentrification with humor and passion.

Filmed over a year STILL WATERS follows this compelling man, his philosophy, the spirit of the children who attend, and the dreams and fears of their immigrant Hispanic community.

DVD / 2017 / (Grades 7-12, College, Adults) / 79 minutes

CULTIVATING KIDS

Directed by Melissa Young, Mark Dworkin

On South Whidbey Island, WA, a school farm shows that a garden can be a valuable addition to the curriculum while encouraging a healthy diet.

On South Whidbey Island in the state of Washington, a school farm involves children from kindergarten through high school in every phase of raising organic vegetables as part of their school experience. Supported by local non-profits, community volunteers, and the school district, it shows that a garden can be a valuable addition to a school curriculum, while encouraging children to eat healthy food. The school farm sells local, organic produce to the school cafeterias and also supplies the local food bank and community nutrition programs with fresh organic produce throughout the growing season.

DVD / 2016 / (Grades 4-12, College, Adults) / 23 minutes

DAUGHTERS OF THE FOREST

Directed by Samantha Grant

A group of girls in a remote forest in Paraguay are transformed at an experimental high school where they learn to protect the threatened forest and build a future for themselves.

DAUGHTERS of the FOREST tells the powerful, uplifting story of a small group of girls in one of the most remote forests left on earth who attend a radical high school where they learn to protect the threatened forest and forge a better future for themselves.

Set in the untamed wilds of the Mbaracayu Reserve in rural Paraguay, this intimate verite documentary offers a rare glimpse of a disappearing world where timid girls grow into brave young women even as they are transformed by their unlikely friendships with one another. Filmed over the course of five years, we follow the girls from their humble homes in indigenous villages through the year after their graduation to see exactly how their revolutionary education has and will continue to impact their future lives.

DVD (Closed Captioned) / 2016 / (Grades 7-12, College, Adults) / 56 minutes

MISS KIET'S CHILDREN

By Petra Lataster-Czisch and Peter Lataster

Kiet Engels is the kind of teacher one wishes every schoolchild could have. She is strict but never harsh. She is loving but never soft. Her patience in endless.

Many of Miss Kiet's pupils are refugees who have just arrived in Holland. Everything is new and confusing. Some are quarrelsome and headstrong. But Miss Kiet's firm but loving hand brings calm and awakens interest. She not only teaches her pupils to read and write Dutch, but also helps them learn to solve problems together and respect one another. Slowly the children gain skills and confidence.

Haya is at first impetuous, yet fearful. Little by little, Miss Kiet helps her to find her friendly side. Leanne is quiet and lonely. But after a few months she able to tell everyone, in Dutch, that she loves Branche. Jorj has trouble sleeping and is unruly. His little brother Maksim has terrible nightmares. Miss Kiet's tenacity helps Jorj discover that learning can be worthwhile and even fun.

By observation alone, without interviews or voice-over, the film focuses on four refugee children of different nationalities. Pursuing their perspective, the camera follows at close hand their struggles to learn a new language, their fights, their friendships and their first loves.

By the end of the documentary, an affectionate community has grown-the fruit of a teacher's patience and dedication. A film of many touching moments, some of them hilarious, MISS KIET'S CHILDREN chronicles changes that are small yet at the same time immense.

DVD (English, Dutch, Color, With English Subtitles) / 2016 / 113 minutes

EAST OF SALINAS

Directed by Laura Pacheco, Jackie Mow

Jose Anzaldo is an excellent student with a bright future except that he is undocumented, the child of migrant farm laborers in California's Salinas Valley.

EAST OF SALINAS begins with 3rd grader Jose Anzaldo telling us what he wants to be when he grows up. His parents work from sun up to sun down in the heart of California's "Steinbeck Country," the Salinas Valley. With little support available at home, Jose often turns to his teacher, Oscar Ramos, once a migrant farm kid himself. In fourth grade his teacher told him if he worked hard he could have a different life. Oscar won a scholarship to the University of California, Berkeley. The day he earned his degree, he bought a car and drove home to the fields. He's been teaching ever since.

Jose is Oscar's most gifted student. But how do you teach students like Jose who have no place to do their homework? How do you teach a kid who moves every few months? This is what Oscar is up against every day. Oscar not only teaches his students reading, math and science, he gives them access to a world beyond their reach.

But Jose was born in Mexico--and he's on the cusp of understanding the implications of that. As we watch this play out over three years, we begin to understand the cruelty of circumstance--for Jose and the many millions of undocumented kids like him.

EAST OF SALINAS asks, What is lost when kids like Jose are denied opportunities?

DVD / 2015 / (Grades 7-12, College, Adults) / 53 minutes

DIE BEFORE BLOSSOM

By Ariani Djalal

Almost 70 years after independence and 10 years after the installation of the first democratically elected president, the educational system in Indonesia is increasingly being influenced by Islamic values. This observational documentary follows two girls and their families during a crucial period in their school careers: their last year at public elementary school in the city of Jogyakarta in central Java.

Kiki and Dila are modern city girls from a middle-class background: they like to listen to pop music, are very interested in their appearance and giggle about girl stuff. At school, all the children wear uniforms, everyone prays together, the national anthem is sung and the girls learn how to behave now that they are approaching puberty. Although Islam isn't a state religion, its influence on the once secular school system is growing. The educational system is underpinned by three moral principles: piety, patriotism and discipline.

The strictness of the school regime doesn't seem so bad-for example, Kiki is able to talk her way out of studying the Koran. But once the final exams start to loom, things suddenly get very serious, both for the girls and for their parents. A lot is riding on their exam results, for the popular schools in the city only take those children who get the highest scores.

DVD (Color) / 2014 / 89 minutes

LUNCH LOVE COMMUNITY

Directed by Helen De Michiel

Passion, creative energy and persistence come together when Berkeley advocates and educators tackle food reform and food justice in the schools and in the neighborhoods.

How are citizens transforming local food systems? How are innovators changing the way children eat in schools? How do we talk about culture, identity and responsibility through the lens of food and health?

LUNCH LOVE COMMUNITY is a beautiful and engaging story of how a diverse group of pioneering parents and food advocates came together to tackle food reform and food justice in the schools and neighborhoods of Berkeley, CA.

Through a mosaic of twelve interconnecting short documentaries, the film explores food and education, children and health, and citizens making democratic change. This is a rich and multi-dimensional story of passion, creative energy, and idealism -- a project linking the ways we teach our children to eat and understand food to the traditional passing of powerful values from one generation to the next.

LUNCH LOVE COMMUNITY is divided into three thematic programs - Heart, Body, Mind - each containing four short films.

DVD ( Closed Captioned) / 2014 / (Grades 7-12, College, Adult) / 78 minutes

NATIONAL DIPLOMA

By Dieudo Hamadi

Joel loads a stack of boxes onto a hand truck and weaves his way through a crowded outdoor market in Kisangani, one of the largest cities in the Democratic Republic of Congo. An orphan who lives with his aunt, Joel doesn't want to be a courier forever. But if he is to have any hope of a brighter future, he must first pass the national exam-the key to better employment and a post-secondary education. And to take the exam, he needs money.

NATIONAL DIPLOMA follows Joel and a group of his classmates in the two months leading up to their taking the national exam. Things start off badly, when the high school principal walks into a class full of students preparing to take a mock exam and expels Joel and more than a dozen others for unpaid school fees. Undaunted, the students rent an unfinished house across the river. The floors are covered in debris, there is no furniture, and live wires snake down interior walls. But the teens hammer a blackboard into a brick wall, set a cookstove on the floor, and set about teaching each other algebra, philosophy, and the other subjects they will need to pass.

What makes this verite documentary exceptional is its ability to capture telling details: the sign above the principal's desk saying anything is possible with hard work, just before he expels students over fees; girls brushing each other's hair in the downtime between studying sessions; the ecstatic and intimate moments in church and visiting a faith healer, as the students seek any help they can get.

As the exam date approaches, the principal visits the students and implores them to return so he can pay the school's staff. Meanwhile, the young scholars have discovered that the key to passing the exam may not lie in studying, but in finding a trusted source who can leak them the answers.

Director Dieudo Hamadi grew up in Kisangani and was one of the half a million Congolese students who took the national exam each year. NATIONAL DIPLOMA is a closely observed film that offers no overt political commentary as it chronicles the hypocrisy, anxiety and distortion in a deeply colonial system.

DVD (Color) / 2014 / 92 minutes

SCHOOL OF BABEL

By Julie Bertuccelli

Welcome to a one-of-a-kind Paris education program for immigrant children from around the globe. In her feature documentary debut, director Julie Bertucelli (SINCE OTAR LEFT, THE TREE) follows one class of students ranging from 11 to 15 years of age as they begin life in a new land.

Hailing from countries across the globe including Ireland, Brazil, China, Ukraine, Tunisia, Venezuela, Guinea and Libya, many of the students at 'La Grange aux Belles,' a school in the diverse 10th district of Paris, are asylum seekers. They must learn French as they combat homesickness, juggle weighty familial responsibilities and recover from the trauma of previous lives of social and economic devastation.

Their teacher, Ms. Cervoni, must exercise as much patience and skill in instructing the students as in her interactions with their parents. As she guides them through a rigorous school year and attempts to prepare them for the transition to mainstream classes, she is a key negotiator in schoolyard conflicts and cultural clashes and navigating complicated dynamics both inside and outside the classroom.

DVD (Color) / 2013 / 89 minutes

SCHOOL'S OUT: LESSONS FROM A FOREST KINDERGARTEN

Directed by Lisa Molomot

A year in the life of a forest kindergarten in Switzerland where being outdoors and unstructured play are the main components.

No classroom for these kindergarteners. In Switzerland's Langnau am Albis, a suburb of Zurich, children 4 to 7 years of age, go to kindergarten in the woods every day, no matter what the weatherman says. This eye-opening film follows the forest kindergarten through the seasons of one school year and looks into the important question of what it is that children need at that age. There is laughter, beauty and amazement in the process of finding out.

The documentary is a combination of pure observational footage of the children at kindergarten in the forest, paired with interviews with parents, teachers, child development experts, and alumni, offering the viewers a genuine look into the forest kindergarten. There are also scenes of a traditional kindergarten in the United States to show the contrast between the different approaches.

DVD / 2013 / (Grades K-12, College, Adult) / 36 minutes

VALENTINE ROAD

Directed by Marta Cunningham

In 2008, eighth-grader Brandon McInerney shot classmate Larry King at point blank range. Unraveling this tragedy, the film reveals the heartbreaking circumstances that led to the shocking crime as well as the aftermath.

On February 12, 2008, in an Oxnard, California, classroom, 14-year-old Brandon McInerney shot classmate Larry King twice; Larry died of the wounds two days later. Larry (Leticia), a gender-variant youth of color, had liked to wear makeup and heels to school, and had publicly announced a crush on McInerney. For this reason, some of McInerney's defenders say the victim had "embarrassed" the shooter--and was therefore at least partly to blame for his own murder.

VALENTINE ROAD is about an outrageous crime and an even more outrageous defense of it, but the film goes much deeper than mere outrage. In the end, it's the story of two victims of homophobia. Larry was killed because of it, but Brandon's life was horribly twisted by it as well. And it's the story of a community's response--sometimes inspirational and sometimes cruel--to a terrible tragedy.

Filmmaker Marta Cunningham deftly looks beyond the sensational aspects of the murder, introducing us to Larry's friends, teachers and guardians, as well as Brandon's loved ones--both children had led difficult lives. In examining Brandon's prosecution and defense, the documentary poses difficult questions about punishing juveniles for serious crimes, while exposing society's pervasive and deadly intolerance of young people who don't conform to its gender "norms."

VALENTINE ROAD brilliantly focuses on how bigotry and prejudice are community-wide problems, rather than only the acts of individuals. It asks how schools can respond to the the full complexity of students' lives, and support students in crisis before tragedy strikes.

DVD / 2013 / (Grades 8-12, College, Adult) / 88 minutes

EARLY LIFE 2: IN THE MAYOR'S FOOTSTEPS - BRAZIL

Directed by Steve Bradshaw

Mayor Amilcar Huancahuari visits Brazil to assess efforts to promote early childhood development there.

Every year, the Mina congregation in Sao Luis, Brazil, choose a child Emperor and Empress. Watching this year in the tropical heat is Mayor Amilcar Huancahuari. With the new Brazilian government emphasizing Early Child Development, Amilcar wants to know whether Latin America's richest country can follow the Mina example - or whether violence and poverty are still hindering children's chances of fulfilling their potential.

Outside Sao Luis, Amilcar finds the sons and daughters of shrimp fishermen learning ballet. In the hills beyond Fortaleza he learns how the playground can become a classroom. In the drug favelas of Rio, he sees the classroom turned into a playground for learning.

Mayor Amilcar also journeys to the Modernist capital, Brasilia, to discuss his trip with the Minister for Human Rights. Will he find enough exciting ideas to help the kids back home in Peru?

DVD / 2011 / (Grades 7-12, College, Adult) / 26 minutes

EARLY LIFE 2: IN THE MAYOR'S FOOTSTEPS - PERU

Directed by Steve Bradshaw

Mayor Amilcar Huancahuari is trying to convert his native Peru to his optimistic philosophy of promoting early childhood development.

Warned that the child he's talked to will grow up poor and violent, Mayor Amilcar Huancahuari sighs. If only we could start young, he believes, we'd have a better chance of a peaceful and prosperous world. We need to keep young children away from violence, and develop their brains from birth.

But is that just the Mayor's dream? In this episode of Early Life, the Mayor tours his native Peru to discover how kids are being shortchanged: from the jungle city of Iquitos to the Andes mountains once wracked by political violence. Amilcar visits children who live in a floating favela - where he needs a police bodyguard - finds kids working city streets at midnight, and meets victims of a war over before they were born.

How much poverty, stress and violence can kids be exposed to without incurring real mental damage?

DVD / 2011 / (Grades 7-12, College, Adult) / 26 minutes

ORIGINAL MINDS

Directed by Tom Weidlinger

Inspirational film that shows a way to bring out the individual talents of five teenagers normally classified as learning disabled.

Wounded by the stigma of being in "special ed" the five teenage protagonists of ORIGINAL MINDS struggle to articulate how their brains work.

Kerrigan is a deep thinker, often seeing connections between disparate ideas and concepts, but when it comes to telling you what you've just said he hasn't a clue.

When Nee Nee writes her fingers have a hard time keeping up with her thoughts.

People often get annoyed with Nattie because she doesn't know when to stop teasing and kidding around.

Marshall spends a lot of time in the bathroom, where his parents can't bug him about homework. He says he wants to "turn over a new leaf" but he's lost nine of his last fifteen math assignments.

Members of Deandre's family tell him he is not college material. He's determined to prove them wrong.

Parents, teachers, friends, therapists, and coaches all weigh in, sometimes with conflicting views, but it's the kids who become the experts in this film, as they work intensively with the filmmaker to tell their stories and discover that they are smarter than they thought. Their narratives reveal the unique approach to learning that each must discern and claim as his or her own if they are to succeed in the world. ORIGINAL MINDS eschews the confusing thicket of labels for learning disorders and reveals universal truths about how we all acquire and process information.

DVD (Closed Captioned) / 2011 / (Grades 9-12, College, Adult) / 57 minutes

PLAY AGAIN (NEW EDITION)

Directed by Tonje Hessen Schei

What are the consequences of a childhood removed from nature? Six screen-addicted teens take their first wilderness adventure.

One generation from now most people in the U.S. will have spent more time in the virtual world than in nature. New media technologies have improved our lives in countless ways. Information now appears with a click. Overseas friends are part of our daily lives. And even grandma loves Wii.

But what are we missing when we are behind screens? And how will this impact our children, our society, and eventually, our planet?

At a time when children play more behind screens than outside, PLAY AGAIN explores the changing balance between the virtual and natural worlds. Is our connection to nature disappearing down the digital rabbit hole?

This emotionally moving and humorous documentary follows six teenagers who, like the "average American child," spend five to fifteen hours a day behind screens. PLAY AGAIN unplugs these teens and takes them on their first wilderness adventure - no electricity, no cell phone coverage, no virtual reality.

Through the voices of children and leading experts including journalist Richard Louv, sociologist Juliet Schor, environmental writer Bill McKibben, educators Diane Levin and Nancy Carlsson-Paige, neuroscientist Gary Small, parks advocate Charles Jordan, and geneticist David Suzuki, PLAY AGAIN investigates the consequences of a childhood removed from nature and encourages action for a sustainable future.

DVD / 2010 / (Grades 6-12, College, Adult) / 80 minutes

EARLY LIFE: MY FIRST DAY AT SCHOOL

Three children prepare to enter primary school in Chiang Mai, Thailand

Thailand's Festival of Water: Songkran. A chance for adults to behave like kids. And for some kids a last chance to misbehave before the first day of school. The third program in the Early Life series follows three children preparing to enter primary school in Chiang Mai, Thailand. But are their lives already set on different courses? Scientists suggest that how the brain develops in the first years of life may affect a child's ability to prosper at school.

Sita is looking forward to her first day, Best is wary, and Tha Na Korn doesn't even have a school to go to yet. Their dilemmas reflect those of Thailand as a whole: how should a country with its own traditions of childhood prepare their kids for a new, globalized society? Thailand is now developing an education policy to meet the needs of a globalized economy.

Child rights might have guaranteed Tha Na Korn local schooling. But many experts who say culture should guide early child development don't like talk of "child rights". They say it could lead to the West imposing its own views of childhood on the world.

Can Thailand achieve child rights without sacrificing its culture? Child rights will mean more kids like Tha Na Korn go to school. But Tha's school has a different language and culture. He could become "unrecognizable to his parents." Child rights and respect for culture need to be combined.

DVD / 2009 / (Grades 9-12, College, Adult) / 25 minutes

EARLY LIFE: THE MAYOR'S DREAM

The Mayor's dream is simple: a better world because every child gets a better start.

What goes on inside the brains of babies-and how much are we shaped by the first few years of our lives? Scientists have new insights into how children think, and some claim that by not acting on these discoveries, lives are being wasted.

We visit the Andes where Mayor Amilcar Huanchuari believes that stimulating children's brains early on can make for a more prosperous-and less violent-society. We visit the labs of Boston, MA, where Harvard scientists are trying to determine whether science really is on the Mayor's side. We see how some Kenyan mums have realized that their traditional parenting ways have to change in today's world. And we talk to a young architect in Turkey who believes that her own life proves the Mayor's dream can be a reality.

"I have a dream," says Amilcar Huanchuari. "We know that poverty is a product of malnutrition, poor education and poor stimulation. And from this we believe that investment in education, health and nutrition is important, and we believe in the early stimulation of our children. We're convinced we should work with children from the earliest age and we're going to form a new society of children. We'll build a new generation of children. They'll be more successful and prosperous children and they'll contribute effectively towards a peaceful future for our country."

The Mayor's dream is simple: a better world because every child gets a better start. But does science support his dream? Across the world, evidence on both sides of the debate is mounting up.

DVD / 2009 / (Grades 9-12, College, Adult) / 25 minutes

STORYTELLING CLASS, THE

Directed by John Paskievich and John Whiteway

An after-school storytelling project in a diverse, but divided, city school breaks cultural boundaries and creates community.

Located in Winnipeg's downtown core, Gordon Bell High School is probably the most culturally varied school in the city, with 58 different languages spoken by the student body. Many students are children who have arrived as refugees from various war torn areas of the world.

In an effort to build bridges of friendship and belonging across cultures and histories, teacher Marc Kuly initiated an after-school storytelling project whereby the immigrant students would share stories with their Canadian peers.

The catalyst for this cross-cultural interaction was the students' reading of A Long Way Gone by Ishmael Beah, a memoir of Beah's horrific time as a child soldier in Sierra Leone's civil war.

These voluntary after-school meetings take dramatic turns and reach their climax when Ishmael Beah and professional storyteller Laura Simms travel from New York to work with them. With their help the students learn to listen to each other and find the commonality that so long eluded them.

DVD / 2009 / (Grades 10-12, College, Adult) / 59 minutes

LIFE 5: SCHOOL'S OUT!

Directed by Dick Bower

The private school option in a Lagos shantytown.

Makoko is a shantytown on the edge of Lagos, the largest city in West Africa. Space is precious, so Makoko stretches out into the lagoon, where many of the houses are built on stilts. Average income in Makoko is about fifty dollars a month. In Nigeria ninety per cent of people live on less than two dollars a day. According to UNICEF, less than half the children of primary school age get an education, with school fees as high as ten dollars. However, new research reveals that parents here are prepared to pay to get their children educated.

The people of Makoko appear to have a choice: Children can go to the free state school, or they can pay at one of a growing number of small, private schools that have opened there. Research into how and why these private schools have emerged in such unlikely circumstances has been organized by a team from the University of Newcastle-upon- Tyne. Their research reveals that in communities like Makoko, parents are voting with their feet. They think the state system has failed, and a new and interesting grass roots movement in education seems to be the result.

DVD (Color) / 2005 / (Grades 7-12, College, Adult) / 23 minutes

LIFE 4: EDUCATING YAPRAK

Turkey's ambitious campaign to reduce poverty includes convincing reluctant parents to send their daughters to school.

At the crossroads of Asia and Europe, Turkey is a country with a large, young population. But literacy rates have traditionally lagged behind neighboring Greece and Bulgaria. With its sights firmly set on future EU membership, Turkey has identified education as key to reducing poverty. So Turkey has embarked on an ambitious campaign, targeting those most deprived of education-young teenage girls-especially from the poor rural areas. Life visits Turkey's eastern Province of Van and meets 13-year-old Yaprak, just one of the many targeted by this massive education drive. She, for one, is sure of the benefits. "I want to study until the end. I want to finish university. I want to have a job."

DVD (Color) / 2004 / (Grades 7-12, College, Adult) / 26 minutes

LIFE: EDUCATING LUCIA

The odds are against girls getting an education in Zimbabwe and throughout much of Africa.

Twelve-year old Lucia's dream is to be able to graduate to secondary school, and stay there-to finish the 12th grade and go on to train as a pilot. Her older sister Barita wants to do computer studies. And Portia, the youngest in the family, wants to be a dressmaker.

But tragically for these three sisters from one of Zimbabwe's large scale commercial farms, in tobacco country 50 miles outside Harare, they're more likely to end up -- as their mothers before them -- with no formal education, working as seasonal laborers on the farm. The three sisters are AIDS orphans being brought up by their grandmother. She can only afford school fees for one girl, Lucia, to attend primary school.

Across Africa, the odds are dramatically against girls getting an education. And even if they do attend primary school, they're often withdrawn before they finish -- to work as unpaid laborers for their extended family, to be married off or to have children. Only one in four school age girls in Burkina Faso ever attends school.

Across the continent only 24 percent of girls actually complete primary school, compared to 65-70% for boys. As Harry Sawyer, Minister for Education in Ghana, wrote in a recent UNICEF report, the obstacles to girls' education are the same as those that undermine economic and social development everywhere "but in the end, all the reasons add up to one: insufficient will."

DVD (Color) / 2000 / (Grades 7-12, College, Adult) / 24 minutes

SMALL WONDERS

Director: Allan Miller

This inspirational documentary deservedly earned a 1995 Academy Award nomination. Divorced mother Roberta Guaspari-Tzavaras taught music in the New York City school system until the budget ax eliminated her job. Dedicated to music and her students, she established a foundation and raised money to create her own violin program in three East Harlem schools. The film follows Guaspari-Tzavaras as she lugs her equipment from school to school, teaching students who range from young beginners to high-school students. The students' recitals include performing for an auditorium full of parents, playing the "Star-Spangled Banner" before a Knicks game at Madison Square Garden, and finally making a Carnegie Hall appearance accompanied by world renown violinists Isaac Stern and Itzhak Perlman.

DVD / 1995 / 77 minutes

http://www.learningemall.com/News/Education_1911.html

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gracewithducks · 5 years

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Reckless Compassion (Luke 14:1, 7-14; preached 9/1/19)

Gander, Newfoundland is a small Canadian town whose history is tied, in many ways, to the history of aviation. Gander International Airport was built in the 1930s because it was very near the flight route of planes travelling between New York and London, who needed a convenient place to stop and refuel. During the Second World War, Gander was an important strategic post for the Allies; 10,000 military personnel were stationed there, and tens of thousands stopped in Gander on their way to action. After the war, Gander remained an important fueling stop, and was nicknamed the “Crossroads of the World.” And as the current town grew, many of the streets were named for famous aviators, including Charles Lindbergh, Amelia Earhart, and others.

Changes in aircraft, however, began to make the Gander airport obsolete. Airplanes no longer needed a place to stop on their way across the ocean, and the town itself fell on hard times. No longer the Crossroads of the World, Gander, Newfoundland fell off the radar of world events.

Until September 2001, that is, when on one terrible Tuesday, Gander, Newfoundland once again became the place where planes from around the world found safe harbor. On the morning of September 11, as the scope of the attacks began to unfold, the airspace over the US was closed, and all the planes in the air needed to find a place to land. While diverting planes from the US was understandable and even prudent, in practice, it meant that our country was outsourcing the danger – asking other cities and airports to welcome possible terrorists we were too afraid to face ourselves.

Due to its huge airport and remote location, Gander was an ideal choice. Thirty-eight planes landed in Gander on September 11th, bringing nearly seven thousand passengers and crew members to stay indefinitely in a town whose population itself was barely 10,000. As the planes lined up at the airports, and the authorities tried to figure out what would happen next, the town itself began to scramble into action. As it became clear that the passengers wouldn’t be travelling on to the US anytime soon, they began to deplane, slowly, carefully, one plane at a time. It took hours – for some passengers, nearly 30 hours – before they received permission to breathe the fresh air, run the gauntlet of security and scrutiny, and then walk out, bewildered, into this one tiny Canadian town.

While the people on the planes waited, the town had already sprung into action. Stranded passengers – who became known as the “plane people” – were met with smiling faces and home-packed bag lunches and loaded onto school buses, buses driven by men and women who had been on strike but left the picket lines to come help out. Those buses took the plane people to local schools and legion halls lined with cots, and to local churches – where, after all those hours cramped on an airplane, even stretching out on a cushioned pew was a welcome relief.

Due to security concerns, however, everyone’s luggage was left on their planes… which meant that these plane people were stranded indefinitely – with nothing. Local Gander residents tried to anticipate their needs, and passengers were welcomed with toothbrushes and toothpaste, with tables full of computers to check email and access to phones to call loved ones. Pharmacists spent hours on the phone to doctors’ offices around the world in order to secure and fill prescriptions for free. At the shelters, passengers were greeted with warm meals, with handshakes and hugs, greeted not so much as strangers but as long-lost friends. Gander residents showed up at the makeshift shelters with piles of towels, blankets, sheets and clothing from their own homes, and offered to take home with them anyone who wanted a shower or even just an hour of quiet away from the crowds.

Volunteers stayed up all night doing laundry in their homes so that their guests could use a clean towel the next day. And when one of the stranded fliers realized that the piles of mismatched towels and sheets came from every home in town, she asked one of the locals, “How will you make sure you get your own towels back when this is all over?” And the host looked at her like she was crazy, saying, “It doesn’t matter. That doesn’t matter at all.”

In the early hours, the passengers themselves had sized each other up with suspicion and with fear, wondering if someone was hiding in their midst who might have meant to do them harm. In one school alone, the plane people hailed from more than forty different countries; differences in language, in clothing and in customs were clear. But as the hours passed, friendships were forged in the midst of unprecedented anxiety and uncertainty – because even in the valley of the shadow of terror, love is stronger than fear. And in September 2001, the people of Gander and their guests showed us that reckless compassion matters, and love still wins.

What the people of Gander realized was that those planes were full of real people: parents of newly adopted children, trying to get home for the first time; professionals, returning from business trips; a rabbi, on a pilgrimage to the states; European families, on their way to Disney World to celebrate their children’s birthdays. The people of Gander imagined their own parents, spouses, children, stranded in a strange town on the other side of the world – and as they reeled, feeling powerless following the events of the 11th, there was comfort and power in finding that this, at least, was something they could do. This would make a difference.

When the residents of Gander learned the stories of their guests, they did everything they could to make those difficult days better. The town set up a kosher kitchen so that the Jewish passengers wouldn’t go hungry. Donations of diapers and toys poured in. And lamenting that children would celebrate their birthdays in shelters rather than at Disney World, a great big birthday party was organized for those kids. Local teenagers dressed up as Disney princesses, and local mascots got involved; instead of Mickey and Goofy, the kids hugged and posed with Commander Gander and the Royal Canadian Mounted Police Safety Bear.

One of the passengers was an important businessman; when his company found out where he was stranded, they reached out to a contact nearby, who loaded up his car and drove to Gander with a care package of fine wine and cheese – and the man’s preferred brand of underwear, as well as the news that the company was arranging a private plane to meet the man in Gander and fly him out. The man was touched… but he refused everything; well, everything except the underwear. He said, “Our hosts have been so selfless and generous, and I don’t want to suggest in anyway that the food and drink they’ve provided hasn’t been good enough.” And looking around at the other passengers, he said, “We’ve been through so much together. I don’t want to abandon my fellow travelers; I’m going to stay here until we can all leave, together.”

Another of the plane people recounts how a little Gander girl asked her for an autograph. “But I’m a nobody,” she stammered; “I’m nobody important.” The girl’s mom just reached for a pen, looked the stranger in the eyes, and said, “You’re somebody to her.”[1]

This is what the kingdom of God looks like: it looks like a seed of kindness planted in the soil of despair; it looks like welcoming the stranger; it looks like the rich and the poor, young and old, people of different beliefs and languages and colors, eating together, laughing together, grieving together, and offering one another hope and compassion as we drift together through an often cruel and confusing world. This is what the kingdom of God looks like: it’s mercy, it’s gifts that can never be repaid, it’s risking hospitality, and it’s saying: you’re somebody to me.

Today’s scripture finds Jesus at a dinner party, at the home of one of the important religious leaders. And when he starts teaching, Jesus comes off sounding a bit like Miss Manners, warning against the social faux pas of sitting in a place above your station. But Jesus’ words are spurred by the behavior he sees on display, as the important people jostle and fight for the best seats at the table. Rather than grasping after power and recognition and respect, Jesus says, it’s so much better to be humble. It’s better to serve than to be served; it’s better to sit below the salt – to sit down with the real people, eating alongside the sinners, the tax collectors and lepers and thieves, the people everyone else shuns and whispers about… because that’s where real life happens; that’s where the miracles happen – and that’s where Jesus himself chooses to be.

And Jesus goes one step further: he says, when you throw a party, don’t just invite your friends. When you’re making your guest list, when you set the table, don’t just invite all the Somebodys, all the people who will bring you honor and fame, and who will one day return your favor by inviting you. But when you have more than you need, when you have enough to share, invite the people who need it most: the stranded, the scared, the lonely, the people disoriented by hunger and suspicion and despair – and then you will catch a glimpse, a foretaste, of what God’s table is all about.

We live in a messed-up world. And it’s hard to watch the news these days: children separated from their families; refugee seekers fleeing violence and finding all the harbors closed; children crying in classrooms as they learn their parents are being deported; pediatric cancer patients being sent from the country… and so-called Christians pretending that, somehow, this is all okay. But this isn’t the kind of kingdom Jesus preaches; this isn’t the kind of people God calls us to be.

The stories of Gander in September 2001 are the stories I needed to hear this week: stories of hope, stories of grace, stories of love. The faces and voices of Gander remind me that there are good people in the world, that there are people who will take risks to help a stranger, that there are still people who will give sacrificially, to strangers, without anticipating anything in return.

The world today is still uncertain and confusing. And now as much as ever, we need people who are willing to take the risk of offering hospitality, welcoming the stranger, and sharing with those in need. The people of Gander could have offered excuses: it was too dangerous to welcome these strangers into their homes; maybe the food and medicine would run out too soon; the schools and halls and churches might be damaged by housing so many for so long; someone might break the computers or stain the carpets or scratch up the pews. But instead of excuses, the people of Gander saw a chance to offer something else: to offer hope and compassion even in some of the darkest days.

And the world needs more people like that. The world needs us to be as wildly, extravagantly, recklessly compassionate – to look beyond ourselves, to move beyond our feelings of powerless, and to do what we can. Because it all matters.

What does it look like for us to offer that kind of love today? It means we welcome strangers; it means we advocate for immigrants and refugees, and we refuse to turn our back on neighbors in need. It means when we have more than we need, we share. It means we refuse to let fear or excuses keep us from loving our neighbors. It means we refuse to accept the world as it is, but we choose – in our own little ways – we choose to do what we can to live into the world God envisions, to live into the kingdom of heaven, right here where we are.

This is how the kingdom comes: with towels and toothbrushes, with handshakes and hugs, with small acts of generosity and hospitality, one gift of reckless compassion at a time. May the kingdom come in us.

God, help us to live as though we are guests at your table: with gratitude and with love. Help us to move beyond fear, to invite others to feast alongside us, as graciously and recklessly as you have invited us – so that even in this dark and uncertain world, we might see your Spirit at work in us, and through us, bringing hope and light. In Jesus’ name we pray; amen.

[1] These stories are from The Day the World Came to Town: 9/11 in Gander, Newfoundland by Jim DeFede (2003). I have taken a few small liberties to simplify and streamline, but these stories – and many, many more – are true, and offer us real examples of reckless hospitality in action. I highly encourage anybody looking for some good news and signs of hope to read DeFede’s account.

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foodpilgrim · 6 years

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High Country Tenderness

It’s a dramatic and spirit-lifting drive along the six-mile stretch of NC Highway 18 from Cumberland Knob Recreation Area in Surry County, NC, to the community of Ennice in northern Alleghany County. The highway unrolls to the west like a ribbon along the ridgetops, almost in sight of the Virginia state line. To the south and west, long, peaceful views of grazing cattle and symmetrical fields of boxwood and Christmas trees undulate toward Bullhead Mountain, a landmark on the Blue Ridge Parkway. Beyond Ennice, the road runs down to the county seat of Sparta, where I was headed for a weekend of food and festivities associated with my book, The Month of Their Ripening. I was hosted by Alleghany Writers, a scrappy literary group with a big vision in this small mountain county populated by hard working farmers and joyful retirees. Some residents qualify in both categories, as did the two families I met on the first day of my visit.

The visiting bull (right) on the move to a different pasture

Before moving permanently to Alleghany County, Ricky Brown lived in several NC cities as a senior bank executive. He and his wife, Kim, had been childhood sweethearts in the eastern NC town of Robersonville in Martin County where cotton and tobacco are the primary products. The Browns moved into the cattle business when their daughter Sara declared she wanted to become an organic farmer. While Sara went off to study at The Farm School in Athol, MA, followed by a volunteer stint for Heifer International, Ricky took early retirement and found some 175 rolling acres that had formerly been planted in Christmas trees. Then Kim’s sister Lynn Perry and her mother, Doris Perry, joined the Browns in the mountains.

Chilly Water Farm’s Kim Brown and Levi, a standard donkey

Today Chilly Water Farm raises Dexter and Angus beef cattle without hormones and antibiotics. The herd feeds exclusively on grass and hay, rotating every two days through a series of paddocks that keep the pasture grass thriving. Each year Chilly Water sells a limited quantity of high quality steakburger meat by the pound to local customers and to select Winston-Salem restaurants.

“The burgers are made from everything but the short ribs and soup bones,” Kim explained, as we set out toward the chicken pen. (Chilly Water also sells eggs and uses chicken fertilizer for the garden.) “We recently got rid of the rooster,” Kim continued. “He drove the girls crazy. They didn’t need that. We are all about harmony here.” She grinned.

The farm menagerie involves several dogs, including a Jack Russell terrier named Opie, a standard donkey named Levi, and eight miniature donkeys, all female, who keep him company.

“These animals are for nothing but peace and joy,” Kim said, as the small herd trotted over to greet and nudge us for head rubs along the fence. Nearby, Little Jack, a rescue goat, was penned with his companion, Watson, also seeking an audience with the humans. More goats played up the hill in a separate pen near an heirloom apple tree that was loaded with yellow fruit. Kim explained that only the goat named Elvis could possibly be a candidate for a meal, leaving us to wonder about his offenses.

Watson in foreground and Little Jack, the rescue goat

After paying our respects to these “house” animals, sister Lynn joined us as we climbed onto a four-seat gator and sailed across the pristine fields to get a closer look at the horses and cattle down in the holler, including an enormous visiting bull who quickly showed us his stuff. We laughed as Lynn put on her mucking boots and hopped off the vehicle to lead the herd through the gate to their next grazing destination. Then we shot forward again, bouncing and angling downhill and then uphill again on a washed-out trail through dense white pines, mature hardwoods, and an occasional Norwegian fir.

When we stopped to observe the pond from the far side of the woods, the sisters reminisced about their grandmother’s unforgettable molasses cake recipe that they had asked her to share with them as her health was failing. The ingredients, as it turned out, were the last words she spoke to her granddaughters. “But when we made it, it didn’t turn out like we remembered,” said Lynn, now amused by the memory. “I think she maybe didn’t give us all that the cake called for.”

“Of course, she never measured anything anyway,” Kim added. “Just a pinch of that and a spoonful of this.”

Back at the house, Ricky had cooked juicy and tender steakburgers on the grill and Doris set out a buffet of green beans, okra, fresh sliced tomatoes, stewed apples from the tree outside, and crisp homemade pickles and jalapenos. After such a feast, I hated to leave Chilly Waters, but I presented my kind hosts with a signed copy of the book and headed out to my next destination.

***

Frances Huber grew up in the toney Buckhead section of Atlanta but started coming to Alleghany County for family retreats as a ten-year-old. Now, just past 80, she is raising Angus breeding stock. She used to sell her cattle for beef, but today she raises the original Angus that have shorter legs and carry more meat than their big-boned, genetically modified relatives. “Now I don’t have to apologize when I sell them off,” Frances explained, “because they are not going off to be processed but are headed for breeding.”

Huber, assisted by a full-time farm manager and an occasional student intern, also raises all-natural, forest-grazing hogs that were lolling around the edge of the woods alongside the cattle as I made my way down the treelined drive to the two-story frame house that she and her late husband, Andy, built in the 1990s.

Long before her organic farming adventure started, Frances read Rachel Carson’s Silent Spring and developed an interest in holistic medicine. With Andy, who was a Cornell graduate in agriculture, the Hubers bought this abandoned dairy farm in 1994 and raised hay and horses without the use of chemical fertilizers, herbicides, or pesticides. “The weeds will tell you what’s wrong with your soil,” Frances explained. She taught herself how to correct deficiencies in the dirt with natural applications of minerals such as gypsum to get the pH right.

Frances Huber of Brush Creek Farm After her husband died of a debilitating cancer of the spine in 2000, Frances did not want to leave the farm. With her daughter’s help, she opened the land to families and busloads of schoolchildren who visited her newly acquired collection of petting animals. She also created a store and planted a whimsical garden on the farm. While she loved the children who came to visit and learn from her, Frances said, “It was like running Carowinds. Too much.” She laughed.

Now Huber has put her 200-plus acres into conservation easements, including the land that provides the most extraordinary view from her screened porch toward Bullhead Mountain. She then challenged her children to come up with a crop they could raise on a portion of the land. The only requirement was that no chemicals be used in the process. Her son who is a bond trader and her daughter who is in marketing came up with the idea of hops and planted citrus hops from five sources last year on a single acre. “An acre of hops is a lot,” Frances said. “I told them I would give them the rest of that sloping field if it went well.”

Hops growing on a rope of organic hemp

I had never seen hops growing. Though most of the first crop had been harvested by the time of my visit, a few vines still climbed upward from the ground on organic hemp ropes suspended from wires strung high above on ten-foot poles that were set out in a grid pattern. Clearly the infrastructure for this crop took no small effort to construct. Frances explained that they had to hire a grappler to install the poles while two of her grandsons helped to site and move the heavy poles. Huber’s daughter spent hours digging trenches out of thick sod between poles and amending the soil under the wires where they would plant the ten rows of hops. Each row required constant weeding. The siblings chronicled each variety carefully and found no signs of mildew, though some bugs did come along. They declared the first harvest a success. Frances now admits that she was not sure if the kids would pull it off, but they did. Their new business cards say “Huber Hops.” Perhaps these flavorful ingredients will be coming to a craft brewer near you.

Hops in hand

Two nights later, before I gave a talk about the new book at a farm-to-table dinner for seventy guests in support of the Alleghany Writers’ Development Fund for creative writing in the local schools, I had a chance to sample Frances Huber’s Brush Creek Farm pork tenderloin and chorizo. Local chef Garrison Wagoner used the just-this-side-of-fiery chorizo to stuff succulent mushrooms. It was a most satisfying burn.

The tenderloin served next needed no accompaniment. Huber’s forest-fed pork was like none I have ever had in memory. Soft, sweet, tender, pale, and without any obvious grain in the meat nor toughness. In short, remarkable. A few days later I would hear just the right phrase, supposedly posted outside a BBQ joint in Mississippi—“You don’t need teeth to eat our meat.” That is how tender it was and how easy the visit to this rural enclave. Thanks to Alleghany Writers’ leader Ginger Collins, the Brown family, and Frances Huber for the high-country hospitality.

Need an autographed copy of The Month of Their Ripening for a gift? Write me: georganneubanks9 (at) gmail.com

#hops #organic farm #The Month of Their Ripening #food

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texanpeanut · 6 years

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Trees All the Way Down

Here’s the most recent email update I’ve sent out and I think the last one I’ll use as a blog post. From now on the blog posts will just be blog posts!

March 30, 2018:

Hey y'all,

Welcome to this month's update from Maggie. I think this email has two themes: growth and change. The first part of the email will be more about some gushy emotional stuff so if you don't wanna read that and wanna know more about some werkkk related things skip down a few paragraphs until you see some ALL CAPS WRITING LIKE THIS. If you remember from the last update, I wrote about how Peace Corps has been challenging mostly in mental and emotional ways. In the first two months at site after I installed (mid-December to mid-February), I think I was overall appreciative of my experience and glad to be here, but also felt anxious and worn out day to day. When I arrived in Thies in mid-February for In-Service Training (IST), I realized I did not feel like myself. I normally consider myself a somewhat laid back person (at least half the time anyway) and fairly optimistic, but I was letting myself become stressed out beyond necessity over small things beyond my control. So, when I arrived back at the regional house in Kedougou at the end of February after two weeks of additional technical training at IST, I decided I needed to take a stronger initiative to take care of my mental health. Like I said earlier, a lot of things that were stressing me out in the beginning were things beyond my control. For example, I would work myself up so much just thinking about going around in my village to greet people because I was worried about how they would react to me, if they would be unwelcoming, or make fun of me, blah blah blah. So one way I've tried to change my focus is to think more about my intentions overall for coming here, and my intention for every small action throughout the day. After some reflection I think the two main reasons I wanted to join Peace Corps were to learn practical, technical skills related to my field of interest (I guess a fancy way of saying I wanted to do cool agroforestry stuff with my hands), and to better myself as a person. I don't think those two reasons are mutually exclusive. And I think by focusing on those things every day, I've been able to feel more calm and comfortable at site, more productive in my work, and overall more just like myself. I decided people are going to treat me however they want to treat me, and the only thing I can control is how I show respect to my family and neighbors, and the effort I put into starting projects and trainings. If I put effort every day into working towards my main intentions of being here (work and bettering myself), by either doing something related to trees, or overcoming some kind of fear or mental roadblock, I can be proud of that day. One more thing I've been thinking about is that I have a lot to really be grateful for. In life in general of course, but specifically in Senegal. I was thinking a few weeks ago how I think my biggest problem/fear/obstacle is my own fear of how people perceive me. And then I thought that isn't really a problem at all. Every day now I feel incredibly lucky to have my own place to sleep at night (with a roof and an actual bed), a bike, a dog, my own little gas stove, great physical health, no severe mental health issues, no crippling debt, great friends I've made in Peace Corps, great friends back at home in America, and a great family who I love and loves me back (at least that's what they tell me lol). And I do feel so lucky to be here in this beautiful part of Senegal, presented with such a unique opportunity to challenge myself mentally and physically and learn so! many! new! things! OKAY on to the COOL STUFF like TREES and GARDENS!!! Alright. So. During the first couple months at site I really did not work at all because I was just trying to get a feel for the village, practice my Pular, and learn how to do things like carry buckets of water on my head without getting laughed at. But now I'm doing some agfo stuff like filling little plastic bags with dirt and poop and it's pretty neat. So... little bags of dirt and poop. Aka, a tree nursery. After I got back to site from IST I finally started a personal tree nursery in my backyard. A tree nursery is one method of propagating trees to later out-plant in fields or compounds. There are two main types of trees people like to seed in nurseries - live fencing species and fruit trees. Trees used for live fences are usually little scraggly, thorny things that prevent livestock from entering gardens and eating all the vegetables. Livestock are the biggest nuisance to vegetable production in this country other than insects and children. Fruit trees are pretty much what they sound like and the two most popular fruit trees here are mango and citrus, but people also plant papaya, sweetsop, soursop, pigeon pea, and cashew. Cashew has a huge market in the southern regions that make up an area called the Casamance, and is expanding steadily throughout the country. Right now, peanuts are one of the main cash crops of this country, but it's really a shame because they deplete the soil so rapidly. Cashews are a great alternative because they are great for soil stability, the fruit has a lot of uses, and the amount of money a farmer can make from one hectare of a cashew orchard is insane. Okay, end of that side note. To make a tree nursery you dig a pit (or build a little wall out of cinderblocks) as big as you need for the amount of sacks you plan to fill, and then fill it with sacks. The sacks are little plastic bags that you fill with a combination of soil and either compost or manure (the poop). Once your sacks are full and you've watered them for a week, you can seed your trees. After a few weeks you out-plant! It's just a way to have more control over young and vulnerable baby trees, and then once they do germinate you can choose to plant the healthiest, best-looking ones, rather than wasting field space on some dumpy little thing. So I have the tree nursery in my backyard, and I seeded some tamarind and papaya that I collected back in January. They haven't germinated yet but I'm still hopeful! I also have begun teaching people in my community how to do this for themselves. One day I went out to the garden of a man I know in my neighboring village named Bonnoit to see if I could find him to talk about work. I didn't find him there, but I found another man named Leonard at a garden nearby, introduced myself and said my work is to plant trees and I can help him if he wants. He said yes I do want to plant trees. So I came back about a week later, we dug a huge pit together, pounded cow poop down to a powder, and filled about 20 sacks together. I've been going to visit him every day for the past week to see how it's going and so far he's filled about 140 without any extra help from me! He is a really motivated worker and I think is really excited to continue this, so I'm looking forward to doing more stuff with him in the future. I also hosted a small tree nursery training for a few of my neighbors and family members. I asked a few of my friends to help invite people in our village, and about 11 people showed up which was perfect because I am trying to start small. Being a little bit of a shy person, I am still nervous about speaking in front of a crowd of 30-40. Anyway, I held the training in my backyard and we added some sacks to my personal nursery and overall I think it was successful. Everyone was attentive and seemed like they wanted to be there and got to practice filling one sack. I gave everyone who came 10 sacks, so I will see who fills those and then give out more to the people who do. Some other work things that aren't set in stone but might happen in the future are a women's cashew orchard in my road town of Salemata, and a garden in my neighboring village for youth who are done with school but can't find work. The women in Salemata seem very excited about the orchard, and Bonnoit (the man I referenced earlier) seems very motivated about getting his garden started, and even brought me his own detailed list of supplies and prices I could use for writing a grant for the project. I'm still unsure if these two things will happen since they're just in the very beginning of planning and discussion, but I am hopeful! Welp, that's about all I got. I'm taking a few days at the regional house for a few reasons. 1) It's my birthday and my village is great but I really wanted to treat myself to some electricity and cold water. 2) I originally planned to have Lyra, my dog spayed today. I have had her for three months now and I think she is about four months old. Anyway I went to the vet this morning and he said he's out of anesthetic but should get some more tomorrow or Sunday so... actual spay date for little Lyra is TBD. 3) New volunteers are coming!!! In Senegal we have four sectors of volunteers: Health, Community Economic Development (CED), Agriculture, and Agroforestry (which I think is technically in the environment sector). The Ag/Agfo volunteers come at the very end of September, like I did, and the Health/CED volunteers come at the very end of February. The newest cohort has been here for a month so far, and they just found out their permanent site placements a few days ago. So the new Kedougou volunteers will be coming in tomorrow for a few days of Field Orientation Training (like I did back in October) before they go back to Thies to complete their Pre Service Training. If God wills it, they will install at their new sites in mid-May! And that's all. Love y'all. Say hi to America for me.

-Maggie

#peacecorps #peacecorpssenegal #peacecorpsafrica #senegal #africa #agroforestry #trees #gardening #environment #nature #travel #volunteer

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justtryingtocarpediem · 7 years

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Hey everyone! Happy 4th of July! I cannot believe that a month ago on June 4th I was making teary goodbyes to my family and friends and meeting my cohort for the first time in Philadelphia. Here I am writing this post poolside at a fancy hotel in Rwamagana with my cohort as we celebrate the 4th of July! I am back with an update on life here in Rwamagana as I had promised in my last blog post. I have officially finished my third week of Pre-Service Training (PST) and I have been gone from home for 4 weeks. There has been so much that has happened over the past 4 weeks that it is honestly hard for me to believe all of those things happened in the span of a month. This blog post may be a little lengthy so I apologize ahead of time, but I promise it will include several intriguing stories.

As our bus left our posh hotel in Kigali, we left behind the amenities we were privileged to have for our entire lives and took entirely too much for granted. Our bus winded through the Rwandan countryside and gave me my first real glimpse of this beautiful country. Whoever said Rwanda is the Land of a Thousand Hills definitely made a low-ball estimate. The hills seemed endless and I was amazed by how green and colorful this country is. The scenery provided for a great distraction from the butterflies in my stomach. I was incredibly nervous to be officially starting our PST and meeting our host families. We arrived at the training hub in Rwamagana after an hour long bus ride. Rwamagana is located in the Eastern Province of Rwanda. I did not know a lot about the East or Rwamagana besides the fact that is was dry, hot, and dusty. We would be spending the next 9 weeks living with a host family in this town for our Pre-Service Training. I never had the chance to live with a host family while traveling abroad so I was excited to experience it, but also incredibly nervous to be spending a little over 2 months living with people I had never met. After unloading our bus with our copious amounts of luggage, we were quickly ushered into the training hub and seated on the opposite side of the room from our host families who were waiting for us. The host family matching ceremony began promptly and I was the second volunteer called. I was so nervous I almost did not remember my name, the two Kinyarwanda phrases I had learned earlier in the day, or how to greet my host family properly. I stood up and tried to quickly survey the room. At first, I could not find my family but my host mama appeared and embraced me in a typical Rwandan hug. She then firmly grasped my arm and lead me back to where she was sitting with her two sons. Ironically, before the host family ceremony had begun, I had been scanning the room and noticed my host family. Almost intuitively, I felt that they might be my host family and I was right! It was fun to watch the rest of my cohort be paired with their respective host families. At the end, we celebrated in true Rwandan fashion with Fantas and then began collecting our luggage, water filters, jerricans, shower buckets, and medical kits. We were loaded into Peace Corps vehicles with all our excessive items and host families and then driven to our new homes for the next ten weeks! I waved goodbye to my fellow Peace Corps trainees who I had spent the past week with and followed my host family into their compound.

Before going more into the details of my first weekend with my host family and the first two weeks of training, I want to give a brief description of my host family. In my host family there is Mama Dorocelle, Papa Kareem, and my two brothers Husseini (age 13) and Sharifu (age 10). Mama Dorocelle stays at home and takes care of everything in the house. I admire her a lot and am amazed by her strength. She has already taught me so much in the short time I have been here. She speaks a handful of English that I think she has acquired over the years of having Peace Corps volunteers live with their family. Papa Kareem works as an umushoferi (driver) and always is incredibly nice to me. He does not speak any English but whenever I see him he is always warm and happy. He is gone most of the times for work so he usually is only in the house a few days of the week. Initially, I was a little nervous to have two host brothers because I have never had a brother before but Husseini and Sharifu are honestly the most respectful and mature boys I have met. They are so much more well-behaved than the teenage boys back home. I am constantly in awe of how great they are to me! They are both in school and they enjoy studying, playing football (soccer), listening to music, watching movies, and dancing. I hope this brief little intro to my family will help give a better picture of them.

While dragging all of my belongings into their house on my first day, I definitely remember thinking to myself “Wow, I guess I am really doing this!” and “Wait, what the heck am I doing here? Is this really happening?”. Everything felt so strange. My surroundings, the smells, the people, the culture, the lifestyle, and so many more things left me feeling completely overwhelmed and out of my comfort zone. The first afternoon/evening with my host family was filled with lots of awkward silences, unknown foods, and unfamiliar habits. I tried my best to communicate in my broken Kinyarwanda with my host family and interact with them but I only knew about 10 phrases so it consisted of me playing charades trying to explain things but eventually giving up because my family had no idea what I was talking about. Within 30 minutes of me arriving, my host brothers were already asking for me to show them movies on my laptop. I am the 6th or 7th volunteer they have hosted so I guess they were expecting every volunteer to show up with a collection of movies. I only brought all the I Love Lucy DVDs with me and 2 movies (The Sound of Music and Father of the Bride). They didn’t seem too amused by I Love Lucy but they enjoyed Father of the Bride. My LCF (Language and Cultural Facilitator), Charlotte, stopped by my house in the evening to check in on me and see if I had any immediate concerns. I went out to the latrine around 8pm and I discovered 4 huge cockroaches each the size of my palm crawling all over the latrine. I was terrified and decided that I did not really need to use the bathroom. I excused myself pretty early after eating dinner and was in bed by 9pm. Finally, I was alone in my room and surrounded by unfamiliar things. I did not have any data on my phone yet so I could not use WhatsApp to communicate with my Peace Corps friends or my family back home, which made me feel incredibly isolated and homesick. I definitely am not shy to say that my first weekend/week at my host family’s was really rough. The next morning, Sunday, I tried to start fresh with my host family. I took my first bucket bath, which was not that bad. I definitely miss hot showers but I can get used to bucket baths. The cold water feels fine if you just came back from working out. I tried to spend as much time as I could with my host family that day by studying Kinyarwanda with my host brothers, playing football with them, and watching my host mom cook. However, by the evening I was definitely feeling alone and sad. Being disconnected from everyone and being thrown into a place filled with unfamiliar things was really hard for me to adjust to. The cockroaches in my latrine also threw me for a loop. Seeing 8 huge cockroaches crawling right where I needed to go to the bathroom made me feel even more awful. My LCF again stopped by my house on Sunday evening and I told her I was unable to buy data for my phone so she took me to get data and finally I was able to call back home. It was a tough conversation with my parents and sister but I am really glad for their support. If they had not been strong while I was at a weak point, then I really do not know if I could have stuck it out here in Rwanda. Just hearing their voices and being able to talk with them instantly made me feel better and gave me hope and strength to keep pushing forward. Y’all the cockroaches almost sent me packing!

On Monday, we began our first official day of PST here in Rwamagana with a debriefing of our first weekend with our host families. I was never so excited to see my fellow cohort on that day! It was a relief to hear about everyone else’s challenges with their host families and to know that I was not alone with my fear of cockroaches. We had a few introductory sessions followed by a tour around Rwamagana and then we had our first language session with our LCF, Charlotte, and I really enjoyed it! I am with one other person for our language class so I am glad to be in a smaller group and I am so far really impressed with how Peace Corps teaches languages. After language, I ran into another group of people in my cohort who were heading to the market to buy igitenge (fabric) that we have to wear for taking bucket baths. After, we went to Relax bar and passed by my house where some of my friends met my host mom who was so sweet to all of us and gave us fruits. Tuesday was again filled with a variety of sessions but I was really enjoying it. My throat started to feel a little sore on Tuesday afternoon and I was pretty convinced it was from all the dust and smoke from the charcoal stoves. On Wednesday, I woke up feeling like I had a sore throat or cold but then my stomach started to have issues. I ended up getting incredibly sick on Wednesday evening and on Thursday I had to be taken to Kigali due to GI issues. It was rough and it was definitely hard to be away from home while I was sick. I was thankfully feeling better by Friday morning and I was able to return to Rwamagana and join the rest of my training group. I spent the weekend recovering and getting over my cold. I also hand washed my clothes and mopped my floor/organized my room. Hand washing my clothes was honestly not as bad as I was expecting it to be. It took about 45 minutes to wash my two weeks of clothing, however, to be fair my host mom did help me, but it went a lot faster than I expected it to. I remember reading a lot of blogs before coming and reading how terrible hand washing is and how time-consuming it is but it was not that terrible. I’m sure though after two years it will get old. Overall, my first week in Rwamagana was filled with a lot of ups and downs but I got through it and pushed forward and I am so thankful now that I did.

My second week in Rwamagana was a lot better. The days are long because of all the language and training sessions we have. I finally was able to start going for short runs here in Rwamagana. The altitude, hills, and the dirt roads though have definitely made me feel super slow but I am thankful to be getting back into a workout routine. The lifestyle and culture have been hard for me to adjust to. There are so many little things that I never used to think about in America but here in Rwanda I have been forced to become cognizant and appreciative of the lifestyle I had back in the states. Aside from the enormous bugs that constantly seem to be attracted to me, there are other challenges like following the cultural norms or adjusting to the lack of electricity, limited water, or the constant stares from the local Rwandans. Back in the states, I always read articles or saw documentaries about the challenges third world countries face like sanitation and hygiene. It was not until I came to Rwanda and started living like a local Rwandan that I finally understood why sanitation and hygiene is so hard to implement here. There are a lot of days where I have to sparingly use my water and prioritize whether I should use the water for my drinking water filter or for my bucket baths. The electricity is not the most reliable here and on a typical day it will come on and turn off for 5 mins or 10 mins and then sometimes it will come back on and sometimes it will not. The lifestyle is a lot harder and simple things take a lot longer but it has definitely given me respect for the locals who live like this and are so resilient. I have a lot of admiration for my host mom and host family. I get along great with all of them and they have been incredibly kind to me. My host mom has taught me how to light and cook on the charcoal stove. Lighting the stove is quite a process! On my first try I could not even light the match, however, I finally have learned how to light the charcoal stove using just one match. I am really proud of myself and I am glad that I will not starve when I get to my site in August. On my second full weekend in Rwamagana, I met my host mom’s sisters and some of my host dad’s family as well because of Eid. My host family is Muslim so we celebrated Eid and I spent a lot of time interacting with our guests and helping cook for everyone. My host brothers are adorable and I love spending time with them. I help them with their English homework and they help me with my Kinyarwanda homework. They are really respectful and are good about giving me space when I need it. I am pretty much up by 5:30/6am every day because the call to prayer from the mosque starts at 4:30am and as soon as that ends the rooster that my family has starts almost immediately after. Then my family is up and moving about so it is pretty hard to fall back asleep after 4:30am because of all the noise but I go to bed pretty early by 9/10pm since the sun sets by 6:30pm and it is super dark. I am really trying though to enjoy every moment I have here in Rwanda and take in every experience. As frustrating as some points have been over the past couple weeks, there is always something amazing that happens makes me forget about whatever I was frustrated or worried by. Even on the day where I was sick and walking home from school feeling terrible, I ran into a group of school kids who swarmed around me and immediately all wanted to give me a hug. There are so many more amazing experiences that I have had while here in Rwanda that makes me feel so appreciative of the journey I am on. If you have made it to the end of this blog post then I am super surprised! Thanks for reading and I will definitely be back and posting about weeks 3 and 4 here in Rwamagana! Sending lots of love back home! Take lots of hot showers and eat yummy American for for me.

The baby chick is my favorite.

So many chickens.

More of my host family’s compound.

Our rooster.

Can you find the two boys in this picture?

Laundry day.

My host family’s house!

Football.

Playing volleyball.

African sunsets.

Our visit to a health center in Rwamagana.

The rooster was in my room.

Praying it won’t rain on laundry days.

Hussein (age 13)

My adorable host brothers.

Morning run views.

1st care package from my amazing family!

xoxo

Rwamagana and Pre-Service Training: Weeks 1 and 2 Hey everyone! Happy 4th of July! I cannot believe that a month ago on June 4th I was making teary goodbyes to my family and friends and meeting my cohort for the first time in Philadelphia.

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everettwilkinson · 7 years

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The inside look at JARED — Trump’s obsession with Russia scandal grows — FIRST IN PLAYBOOK: JOSH GREEN’S BANNON book out July 18 — Caygle and Lorenzo wed in Ala. — MUST-READ RICH RUBIN on tax reform

Listen to the Playbook Audio Briefing http://bit.ly/2qukEu9… Subscribe on iTunes http://apple.co/2eX6Eay … Visit the online home of Playbook http://politi.co/2f51Jnf

FIRST IN PLAYBOOK — JOSH GREEN’S NEW BOOK: “THE DEVIL’S BARGAIN: Steve Bannon, Donald Trump, and the Storming of the Presidency” — Josh wrote the first big profile of Steve Bannon in a cover story for Bloomberg Businessweek back in Oct. 2015 (https://bloom.bg/2rwU3Ri). On July 18, he’ll release “The Devil’s Bargain,” which chronicles the campaign — and Bannon’s influence — from the inside. The very cool cover http://bit.ly/2reBVL5 … Pre-order on Amazon for $27.00 or $13.99 on Kindle http://amzn.to/2rcLnws

Story Continued Below

Happy Monday and Memorial Day. THE BIG DAY-OFF READ …

— NYT A1, GLENN THRUSH, MAGGIE HABERMAN and SHARON LaFRANIERE, “Jared Kushner’s Role Is Tested as Russia Case Grows”: “In a statement Sunday night, Mr. Trump praised his son-in-law and the work he has done in the White House. ‘Jared is doing a great job for the country,’ he said. ‘I have total confidence in him. He is respected by virtually everyone and is working on programs that will save our country billions of dollars. In addition to that, and perhaps more importantly, he is a very good person.’ … [I]n recent weeks, the Trump-Kushner relationship, the most stable partnership in an often unstable West Wing, is showing unmistakable signs of strain. … It has been duly noted in the White House that Mr. Trump, who feels that he has been ill served by his staff, has increasingly included Mr. Kushner when he dresses down aides and officials, a rarity earlier in his administration and during the campaign.

“The most serious point of contention between the president and his son-in-law … was a video clip this month of Mr. Kushner’s sister Nicole Meyer pitching potential investors in Beijing on a Kushner Companies condominium project in Jersey City. At one point, Ms. Meyer — who remains close to Mr. Kushner — dangled the availability of EB-5 visas to the United States as an enticement for Chinese financiers willing to spend $500,000 or more. For Mr. Trump, Ms. Meyer’s performance violated two major rules: Politically, it undercut his immigration crackdown, and in a personal sense, it smacked of profiteering off Mr. Trump — one of the sins that warrants expulsion from his orbit. In the following days during routine West Wing meetings, the president made several snarky, disparaging comments about Mr. Kushner’s family and the visas that were clearly intended to express his annoyance … Mr. Kushner did not respond, at least not in earshot. …

“[His] unfailing self-regard has not endeared him to the rest of the staff. Resentful Trump staff members have long talked about ‘Jared Island’ to describe the special status occupied by Mr. Kushner, who, in their view, is given license to exercise power and take on a vague portfolio … without suffering the consequences of failure visited by the president on mere hirelings. Adding to the animus is Mr. Kushner’s aloof demeanor and his propensity for avoiding messy aspects of his job that he would simply rather not do — he has told associates he wants nothing to do with the legislative process, for instance. … Mr. Bannon, a onetime Kushner ally turned adversary known for working himself into ill health, has taken to comparing the former real estate executive to ‘the air,’ because he blows in and out of meetings leaving little trace, according to one senior Trump aide.” http://nyti.ms/2sd4bv4

ONE THEME we keep hearing in our conversations with senior White House aides and Capitol Hill stalwarts is “hubris.” Jared Kushner has never served in government and thinks he knows all, one person said to us. Why would the president’s son in law begin complex conversations with Russia before Trump got into office?

**SUBSCRIBE to Playbook: http://politi.co/2lQswbh

INSIDE THE WEST WING — HOW TRUMP IS REACTING — “Trump’s obsession over Russia probe deepens: But the president’s senior aides say he has yet to decide on a strategy for confronting the crises,” by Matt Nussbaum, Josh Dawsey and Eliana Johnson with Alex Isenstadt: “President Donald Trump has been aggressively working the phones since returning this weekend from his foreign trip, talking to friends and outside lawyers as he obsesses over the deepening investigations into his aides and Russia. Two White House officials said Trump and some aides including Steve Bannon are becoming increasingly convinced that they are victims of a conspiracy against Trump’s presidency, as evidenced by the number of leaks flowing out of government — that the crusade by the so-called ‘deep state’ is a legitimate threat, not just fodder for right wing defenders. … Senior aides and long-time confidants admitted not knowing who Trump would hire, how safe the jobs of top staff are, what the White House’s agenda is for the coming days, or what — if anything — they can accomplish.” http://politi.co/2qyAH9B

— @HansNichols: “Spotted at the White House: Trump’s personal lawyer Marc Kasowitz meeting with Ivanka at the White House, via @MoshehNBC”

THE LEGISLATIVE REALITY — LEADING WSJ.COM — “GOP’s Proposed Tax Changes Are No Match for Status Quo: Republicans’ boldest ideas for changes are on political life support as plans collide with the tax system’s reality,” by Rich Rubin: “There’s a clear winner in this year’s tax policy debate so far: The status quo.

“Republicans are scouring the tax code, searching for breaks to eliminate to offset the deep rate cuts they desire. But the biggest tax breaks are surviving and the boldest ideas for change are on political life support or already dead. Republican proposals for border-adjusting the corporate tax, ending the business interest deduction and making major changes to individual tax breaks for health and retirement all hit resistance within the GOP. The only big revenue-raising provision with anything close to Republican consensus is repealing the deduction for state and local taxes, and that faces objections from blue-state lawmakers in the party.

“The GOP’s dreams have collided with interest-group lobbying and the tax system’s reality. Politicians all profess to hate the tax code, but they don’t agree on exactly what they hate. Voters gripe about complexity but are wary of losing cherished breaks that are woven into the economy.” http://on.wsj.com/2r40oCc

****** A message from Morgan Stanley: Morgan Stanley helped All Aboard Florida raise capital to bring Brightline, an express railway, to the Sunshine State—potentially cutting travel time across Southern Florida by up to 25-30%1 versus existing options. Investing in infrastructure isn’t just good for people—it can be good for cities. Learn more at morganstanley.com/brightline. ******

TRANSLATING TRUMP: THE PRESIDENT tweeted last night: “The massive TAX CUTS/REFORM that I have submitted is moving along in the process very well, actually ahead of schedule. Big benefits to all!”

— A FEW THINGS TO UNPACK HERE: Tax cuts and reform are two very different things. Tax reform is rewriting the tax code, and perhaps cutting taxes, too. A simple “tax cut” would be much easier to accomplish, but would face stiff resistance from conservatives, who would call it an easy way out. Also: the tax plan that Trump submitted is as dead as can be and IS NOT ahead — or on — any schedule. The House Ways and Means Committee and Senate Finance Committee have started their own tax reform process, but it is not ahead of any sort of schedule. It is, though, a work in progress.

TRUMP INC. — NYT Business Day cover, “The Coat of Arms Said ‘Integrity.’ Now It Says ‘Trump,’” by Danny Hakim in London: “At the Trump National Golf Club outside Washington, which hosted the Senior P.G.A. Championship this weekend, the president’s coat of arms is everywhere — the sign out front, the pro shop, even the exercise room. The regal emblem, used at President Trump’s golf courses across the United States, sports three lions and two chevrons on a shield, below a gloved hand gripping an arrow. A different coat of arms flies over Mr. Trump’s two golf resorts in Scotland. … Mr. Trump’s American coat of arms belongs to another family. It was granted by British authorities in 1939 to Joseph Edward Davies, the third husband of Marjorie Merriweather Post, the socialite who built the Mar-a-Lago resort that is now Mr. Trump’s cherished getaway. In the United States, the Trump Organization took Mr. Davies’s coat of arms for its own, making one small adjustment — replacing the word ‘Integritas,’ Latin for integrity, with ‘Trump.’” http://nyti.ms/2sdcM0B

OLIVIA NUZZI in NYMag, “‘Is This Even About Seth Rich At All?’”: “The people who knew and loved Seth Rich still sometimes speak of him in the present tense. … They remember his warm, broad smile and his tendency to greet all in his immediate vicinity with a round of high-fives. … They talk about how much fun he was, how he’d always show up to a party, how he’d always volunteer to be the butt of a joke. There was the time he sported a panda suit at work all day, or when a colleague came over to his desk to find him sitting there holding a cup of coffee and wearing a unicorn mask like it was just business casual. … They also speak of a son — one who talked to his parents on the phone nearly every day — a brother, a boyfriend, and a friend. They say he was a thoughtful listener and a kind, solid midwesterner. He liked beer and Husker football, and he was the godfather to a cockapoo puppy named Archie.” http://nym.ag/2s6TDy3

THE OPPOSITION — “Sanders revolution hits a rough patch: Bernie’s supporters struggle to capture the actual levers of power,” by David Siders in Sacramento: “[A] year after Sanders’ presidential run fell short, one thing is missing in the afterglow — a reliable string of victories at the ballot box.

“The losses are piling up. Earlier this month, Democrat Heath Mello, whom Sanders campaigned with, failed to unseat a Republican in Omaha’s race for mayor. Kimberly Ellis, the candidate endorsed by Our Revolution, the successor group to Sanders’ presidential campaign, lost a fiercely contested race for California Democratic Party chair. And on Thursday night, Republican Greg Gianforte bested Rob Quist, another Democrat for whom Sanders campaigned, in a nationally watched House race in Montana. Speaking at a victory party, Gianforte called the election proof ‘Bernie Sanders and Nancy Pelosi can’t call the shots here in Montana.’” http://politi.co/2qrP4kQ

FIRST LOOK — The House GOP is out with a new Memorial Day video featuring veterans in the Republican conference – cameos by: Reps. Brian Babin (Texas), Mark Sanford (S.C.), Jeff Denham (Calif.), Ted Poe (Texas), Barry Loudermilk (Ga.), Larry Bucshon (Ind.). 1-min. video http://bit.ly/2sdccjw

PUTIN IN FRANCE — “Putin visits France, hopes to mend strained ties with West,” by AP’s Vladimir Isachenkov and Sylvie Corbet in Versailles: “On a trip likely to shape Russia-France ties for years to come, Russian President Vladimir Putin arrived in France on Monday for talks with newly-elected French President Emmanuel Macron — the candidate he did not back in presidential vote.

“The trip offers the Russian leader a chance to turn the page and try to establish a productive relationship with Macron as the Kremlin struggles to mend its bitter rift with the West. Macron is the first Western leader to speak to Putin after the Group of Seven summit over the weekend, where relations with Russia were a key topic.” http://apne.ws/2rx9MQx

THE PRESIDENT is speaking and laying a wreath at Arlington National Cemetery this morning.

PHOTO DU JOUR: Vice President Mike Pence alongside wife Karen, gives a thumbs up to the Indiana National Guard during pre-race festivities at the 101st running of the Indy 500 at Indianapolis Motor Speedway on May 28. | Mykal McEldowney/The Indianapolis Star via AP

WHAT THE FIRST FAMILY IS READING — DARREN SAMUELSOHN: “Lara Trump’s controversial pet issue: First-daughter-in-law advocates for beagles, but her partner’s past tactics cause concern”: “President Donald Trump’s daughter-in-law has taken up a pet issue — beagle adoption — that reflects her lifelong interest in animal welfare. One of Lara Trump’s partners, however, is a little problematic. Eric Trump’s wife has publicly aligned with a controversial animal rights group, the Beagle Freedom Project, whose leadership includes a felon who served a six-year sentence in federal prison for harassing and stalking researchers.” http://politi.co/2sduWiN

— FT: “World Bank helps Trump on US infrastructure plans: Critics say bank is currying favour with advice after creation of ‘Ivanka fund,’” by Shawn Donnan: “The World Bank has begun advising the Trump administration on its infrastructure plans, the latest product of a budding relationship between first daughter Ivanka Trump and bank president Jim Yong Kim that is raising eyebrows among bank veterans and governance experts.

“The unusual move grew out of an April 3 White House meeting between Mr. Kim and Ms. Trump to discuss a new $1bn women’s entrepreneurship fund championed by Donald Trump’s eldest daughter that the bank is trying to set up ahead of a G20 summit in Germany in July. At the end of that April meeting Ms. Trump asked whether the World Bank president wanted to meet her father and then led him to the Oval Office. There, according to people briefed on the meeting, the president was huddled with advisers discussing infrastructure plans, prompting Mr. Kim to offer to help.

“Three days later a team of infrastructure experts from the World Bank was sent to New York to meet members of a new presidential council, according to a World Bank spokesman who confirmed the meetings. ‘These conversations continue at an informal level,’ he said.” http://on.ft.com/2rNRv0Z

DEEP DIVE — MARGARET TALBOT in The New Yorker, “The Addicts Next Door: West Virginia has the highest overdose death rate in the country. Locals are fighting to save their neighbors—and their towns—from destruction”: “According to the Charleston Gazette-Mail, between 2007 and 2012 drug wholesalers shipped to West Virginia seven hundred and eighty million pills of hydrocodone (the generic name for Vicodin) and oxycodone (the generic name for OxyContin). That was enough to give each resident four hundred and thirty-three pills.” http://bit.ly/2qyINin

INSIDE HILLARY WORLD — “The Place Where Letters To Hillary Clinton Go,” by BuzzFeed’s Ruby Cramer: “At just 30 years old, Rob Russo has been one of Hillary Clinton’s closest aides for a decade, organizing and drafting her political and personal correspondence. After the election, his job changed as thousands of strangers starting writing to Clinton. Now he’s living through the end of an era, one letter at a time.” http://bzfd.it/2s6dYUh

JOSH ROGIN in WaPo, “Inside the Trump administration’s plans to restart the Ukraine peace process”: “In their Oval Office meeting in March, President Trump told German Chancellor Angela Merkel that the Ukraine crisis was Europe’s responsibility and that the United States wouldn’t get heavily involved, according to two officials briefed on the discussion. Only two months later, the Trump administration is reversing course and planning to re-engage on Ukraine in a significant way. For Secretary of State Rex Tillerson, who is leading the behind-the-scenes effort, Ukraine is where Trump’s so-far thwarted plan to improve U.S.-Russian relations can be kick-started. Although still in its early stages, Tillerson’s idea is to restart a version of the peace negotiations that the Obama administration was engaged in last year, hoping that new circumstances and personalities might produce better results.” http://wapo.st/2r3NEMc

****** A message from Morgan Stanley: Morgan Stanley helped raise the capital needed by innovative company All Aboard Florida to enhance Florida’s infrastructure by developing the nation’s first express, intercity rail, Brightline. The train, connecting cities across Southern Florida, is expected to cut down on travel time for residents and tourists, and could potentially add up to hundreds of millions in federal, state and local government tax revenue over the next several years.1 Capital creates better connections for people, communities and cities. Learn more at morganstanley.com/brightline. Capital creates change. ******

ELIOT COHEN in TheAtlantic.com, “What Did Trump Accomplish on His First Foreign Trip? Some firm handshakes, forced smiles, and awkward sword dances. In short, nothing”: “It is proof of how low our standards are for judging Trump’s competence that he got high marks for delivering speeches more or less accurately, if woodenly, from teleprompters and scripts. He did not declare war on Islam. He spent only 15 minutes at Yad Vashem and left a semi-literate note there, but at least said nothing egregiously stupid. He was polite to the Pope. He said that the Germans were ‘bad, very bad’ on trade but admired Egyptian president Sisi’s shoes. His motorcade was not stormed by angry European leftists. But what did he accomplish?” http://theatln.tc/2rwHXYu

— “As Iran and U.S. Leaders Trade Barbs, Big Deals Proceed,” by NYT’s Thomas Erdbrink in Tehran: “President Trump, who has never made a secret of his hostility toward Iran, called recently for a grand regional strategy among Sunni nations to isolate the country. But Tehran received that threat with surprising equanimity because, in practice, the Trump administration has shown a willingness to do business with the country. …

“Tough talk from both sides, but back in Iran, they are awaiting the delivery of a fleet of American-made Boeing airliners, the result of two deals worth $22 billion for the United States company. The most recent contract between the plane maker and the Iranian airline Iran Aseman was signed two months after President Trump was sworn into office.” http://nyti.ms/2s6nE0S

THE GLOBAL POLITICO PODCAST – SUSAN GLASSER, “How the British Election Looks Like America’s”: “Steve Hilton, who served as the Conservatives’ top strategist in the last British general election before falling out with his close friend, May’s predecessor David Cameron, over Brexit. In a new interview for The Global Politico, Hilton says May has not followed through on the ‘political revolution’ that brought Brexit and Trump to the U.S. with a comparable ‘policy revolution’—nor does she seem likely to after a campaign that at times now seems reminiscent of last year’s American contest.” http://politi.co/2sdqlwX … Transcript http://politi.co/2sdJ8bu … Subscribe http://apple.co/2kJ9q1U

PLAYBOOK METRO SECTION — “One D.C. school lost more than a quarter of its teaching staff this year,” by WaPo’s Alejandra Matos: “The vacancies hit hardest in schools that already face numerous academic challenges, according to data The Washington Post obtained through a Freedom of Information Act request.

“At Ballou High School in Southeast Washington, more than a quarter of the faculty quit after starting work in August. Many of their classrooms now have long-term substitutes. Dwight Harris, 16, an 11th-grader, said his Algebra 2 class has been chaotic since his first teacher left in January. ‘No one is teaching. It’s been like that for months now,’ Harris said. ‘We don’t do anything, so I leave and go to my biology class or English class and go do other work.’

“Most teachers wait until summer to call it quits, but in DCPS a rising number are leaving during the school year. The mid-year resignation rate for DCPS was higher than for some other urban school systems The Post checked. In the D.C. system, 184 of about 4,000 teachers — nearly 5 percent — quit from September to mid-May. That was a 44 percent increase over the 128 teachers who left in the 2013-2014 school year.” http://wapo.st/2qyK8Gb

MOLLY BALL reviews Al Franken’s “Giant of the Senate” for the NYT http://nyti.ms/2qrJsXM

PLAYBOOKERS’ VACATION PIX – Josh and Melissa Sharp spent the week leading into Memorial Day touring the Amalfi Coast, Pompeii and Germany’s Neuschwanstein Castle. Pics http://bit.ly/2qrHXIY … http://bit.ly/2qrve9r… http://bit.ly/2reQkqG … A Playbooker in Monaco attending yesterday’s Grand Prix sends a shot of German Sebastian Vettel’s car in the lead driving for Ferrari, which won for the first time in 16 years http://bit.ly/2qrvmpr … The winning car before the race http://bit.ly/2qrx8H0

… Dr. Tomicah Tillemann, director of Bretton Woods II and Blockchain at the New America Foundation and a former speechwriter and senior advisor to Hillary at State, and his wife Sarah Tillemann, alum of the House Foreign Affairs Committee, write in: “We’ve been with our five little ones reconnecting with the values of sacrifice, service and love of country at the site of the D-Day landings. We walked past a quote from General Mark Clark en route to the grave sites at Omaha Beach: ‘If ever proof were needed that we fought for a cause and not for conquest, it could be found in these cemeteries. Here was our only conquest: all we asked was enough soil in which to bury our gallant dead.’ There is no more powerful reminder of why democracy, decency, and the defense of human rights have always been at the core of America’s greatness and the foundation of our most powerful alliances. Let’s keep it that way…” Pix http://bit.ly/2rclYmL

SPOTTED — Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg at The Studio theatre performance last night of “The Father” with Ted Van Griethuysen as a man diagnosed with dementia. The show got a standing ovation and Ginsburg went immediately backstage after the performance. … Secretary of State Rex Tillerson yesterday riding a maroon Harley-Davidson during Rolling Thunder — pic http://bit.ly/2reABb5 … Tony Podesta and Vin Roberti at the amfAR “making AIDS history” fundraiser at the Hotel Du Cap in Cap d’Antibes — pic http://bit.ly/2rxIadQ

WEEKEND WEDDINGS — THE PRIDE OF TAMPA TIES THE KNOT, MARRIES UP –“Heather Caygle, Aaron Lorenzo” — N.Y. Times: “The bride, 29, and groom, 41, cover Congress for Politico. Ms. Caygle [author of Huddle] graduated from the University of Alabama at Birmingham and received a master’s degree in journalism from American University. … Mr. Lorenzo … graduated from Boston University … The couple met in Washington in 2013 while working as reporters at Bloomberg BNA. They had desks next to each other for more than a year before the groom worked up the courage to ask her out.” With pic http://nyti.ms/2s9M2OF

POOL REPORT from Seung Min Kim: The “emotional ceremony … featured personal vows, a touching reading from POLITICO’s Anthony Adragna and a starring role for their corgi/chihuahua mix, Biggie Smalls, who served as ring bearer [pic: http://bit.ly/2quuxrE]. Then it was off to Iron City, where the bride and groom made a grand entrance to the Stevie Wonder classic ‘Signed, Sealed, Delivered’ as friends and family — some who traveled from as far away as Canada — cheered the newlyweds on. Other highlights: Heather’s surprise mother-daughter dance for mom Kitty, which left the crowd in tears; an elaborate groom’s cake for Aaron shaped like a grill, and oversized cutout heads of Heather, Aaron and Biggie that the partygoers waved on the dance floor.” Wedding pics http://bit.ly/2r3HueU … http://bit.ly/2rc6U8M … http://bit.ly/2qrH4jV

SPOTTED: A strong showing of Politicos past and present, and their loved ones: Kevin Robillard and Lindy Stevens, Adam Snider and Emma Dumain, Seung Min Kim and Jeff Lee, Lauren Gardner and Patrick Ambrosio, Connor O’Brien, bridesmaid Kate Tummarello, Erin Mershon, Bernie Becker and Adriane Casalotti. Also spotted: Matt Fuller, who has impressive dance moves, and Jonathan Nicholson.

–“Anna Greenberg, Dana Milbank” – Times: “Dr. Greenberg, 48, is a partner in Greenberg Quinlan Rosner Research, a polling firm in Washington. She graduated cum laude from Cornell and received a Ph.D. in political science from the University of Chicago. … The bride’s father [Stan] is the founding partner at Greenberg Quinlan Rosner Research. … Mr. Milbank, 49, is a syndicated columnist with The Washington Post. He graduated cum laude from Yale. … The couple met at a party in Washington in October 2001 and went on a blind date 14 years later, in February 2015.” With pic http://nyti.ms/2qs1Xal

— POOL REPORT, with the subject line “In-town pool report #1 — Milbank/Greenberg nuptials” from Julie Mason: “Two hundred guests sat on folding wooden chairs in the hall [at Eastern Market], warmly lit by overhead string lights, orange-hued footlights and flickering candles under glass. … Male guests wore yarmulkes in dove-grey satin … The couple read the Ketubah, had the blessings and broke the glasses. More than one eye in the room sparkled bright with a tear — one less bachelor in Washington! … In his own remarks to the gathering back inside the hall, now cleared of chairs and set up with a dance floor, Milbank noted the traditional Ketubah set a price on the wife to be paid to her father. Calculating that price to be 100 goats, Milbank presented noted pollster Stan Greenberg with four stuffed goats from a basket as a down payment, promising regular deliveries from Amazon ‘unless and until he says the debt is paid.’” Full pool report http://politi.co/2rx5rNc … Pics — Under the chuppa http://bit.ly/2r42KkG … First dance http://bit.ly/2rNNslo … http://bit.ly/2quxgld

SPOTTED: Juleanna Glover and Christopher Reiter, former Sen. Chris Dodd (D-Conn.), Rep. Rosa DeLauro (D-Conn.) and Stan Greenberg, Amy Dacey, Katherine Miller, Terence Samuel, Jodi Enda, Tom Toles, Jonathan Karl, Susan Glasser and Peter Baker, Carol Lee, Anu Rangappa, Paul Kane, Neil King Jr. and Shailagh Murray, Jonathan Weisman, Jennifer Steinhauer, Anne Kornblut and Jon Cohen, JoDee Winterhoff, Juliet Eilperin, Eric Liu, Doug Sosnik.

OBAMA ALUMNI — KATIE JOHNSON and NATE RAWLINGS tied the knot last night in Brookline, Massachusetts. POOL REPORT from Ben LaBolt and Kate Bedingfield: It was “a Beantown bash wedding complete with an excursion to a private island in Boston Harbor. Surrounded by friends and family, they married to the sound of bagpipes at All Saints Parish in Brookline then headed down the street for a rollicking reception at Katie’s family home (there remains a debate about the best dance performance to the silent DJ). Katie served as Personal Secretary to President Obama during his first term and as a Counselor in the Office of Management and Budget during the second. Nate, who served as a Captain in the Army in Iraq and Afghanistan, a reporter at Time Magazine and a speechwriter for Vice President Biden [and is also a State alum], is now chief speechwriter at the World Bank. … Revelers celebrated under a tent in Katie’s parents’ backyard, dancing to the wee hours of the night a mere 24 hours after a spirited game of capture the flag brought out both the best and worst of everyone in attendance.”Pics http://bit.ly/2reLZ6Q … http://bit.ly/2rf2IqT

SPOTTED: Joel and Lisa Benenson, Meghan Johnson, Meaghan Burdick, Missy Kurek, Kal Penn, Todd and Lindsey Schulte, Mike O’Neil and Stephanie Sutton, Reid Cherlin and Annie Shacker, Thomas Richards, Ben Finkenbinder, Vinay Reddy, Emily Loeb and Sarah Feldman, David Kieve, Nikki Buffa, Jen Psaki and Greg Mecher, Stephanie Psaki and Adam Frankel, Chris Boutlier, Danielle Gray, Alex Mackler, Jenny Cizner and Jeff Amsel, Jacob Leibenluft, Mackey Dykes and Katie Scharf, Ishan Tharoor, Jenny Urizar.

ENGAGED — Zach Gillan, research director for Congressional Leadership Fund and an alum of the NRSC, got engaged this weekend to Cherie Paquette, producer for FOX News’ “America’s Newsroom” with Bill Hemmer and Martha MacCallum. He proposed at Pippin Hill outside of Charlottesville, and they met in April 2014 at a happy hour for her going away party from the Washington Free Beacon to FOX News. The Daily Beast’s Lachlan Markay gets credit as the matchmaker. Pics http://bit.ly/2sd986Z … http://bit.ly/2rf31BH

–Jason Rodriguez, a political advocacy specialist at the American Nurses Association, got engaged on Saturday to Brittany Grimm, manager of grassroots at the American Bankers Association. They met while they were House Democratic fundraising consultants during the ‘14 cycle. Rodriguez, former national deputy Latino vote director for the Hillary campaign, proposed after she arrived from a flight home after visiting some friends out west. Their dog, Arrow, and Jason were waiting at home with a room filled with candles. Pic http://bit.ly/2rO3qMa … The ring http://bit.ly/2qykJwe

WELCOME TO THE WORLD — Lydia Mulvany, reporter covering agriculture and commodities at Bloomberg, and Riccardo Reatti, VP of strategic initiatives at Zurich Insurance Company in Chicago, early Sunday morning welcomed Valentina, born at 12:30 a.m. Both mom and baby are healthy and happy. Pics http://bit.ly/2ra8V52 … http://bit.ly/2qyCJ9x … http://bit.ly/2rwIFVx

BIRTHDAYS: Matthew Dowd … Jill Hazelbaker, V.P. of comms. and policy at Uber, and a Snapchat and McCain alum … Sandy DeFrees … Pete Seat, executive director of strategic comms and talent development at the Indiana Republican Party (and frequent World Series attender), is 34 … D.C. Examiner managing editor Philip Klein … Rep. Jeb Hensarling (R-Tex.) is 6-0 … Sen. Jerry Moran (R-Kan.) is 63 … Kara Genderson (h/t Dan) … Francesca Chambers, a proud KU alum and White House Correspondent at The Daily Mail (hubby tip: Michael Moroney) … LifeZette’s Jon Conradi is 28 … Susan Osnos, the pride of Lakeside, Michigan (h/t son Evan) … Jacob Kornbluh, Jewish Insider’s tireless NYC-based reporter … Freakonomics’ Steven Levitt is 5-0 (h/ts Max Neuberger) …

… Lee Satterfield, EVP and COO at Meridian International Center … Todd Flournoy … Bri Gillis … Sam Ford … Dayna Geldwert … Kimberly Rawson … Yale Scott … Dan Froomkin …Eugene Gelfgat (h/t Hayley Andrews) … Chris Johnson … Tom Giusto … Danny Maiello … Kathy Lash of Justine’s Ice Cream Parlour in St. Michaels and Ocean City, Maryland (h/ts Jon Haber) … Mary Ryan Douglass … Danny Crouch … Dave Yonkman is 31 … Terence Samuel, deputy managing editor at NPR and a WaPo alum … Alexander Berger … former Time Inc. CEO Ann Moore … Ellen Kurz … Mary Anne Schmitt (h/ts Teresa Vilmain) … Brian McClung … former Century Foundation president Janice Nittoli … Charlie Gerow … Aleen Sirgany … Tulin Daloglu … former baseball commissioner Fay Vincent, also a Hotchkiss grad, is 78 … Annette Bening is 59 … Melissa Etheridge is 56 … NBA player Carmelo Anthony is 33 (h/ts AP)

****** A message from Morgan Stanley: All Aboard Florida wanted to create a faster and easier way to move around Florida. Morgan Stanley helped them raise capital to begin development of the country’s first express, intercity railway to do just that. Not only are the new Brightline trains expected to reduce travel time across Southern Florida by approximately an hour1, but they’re also projected to take up to 3 million vehicles off the road each year, helping to reduce congestion and harmful emissions1. Read more about Morgan Stanley’s work at morganstanley.com/brightline. Capital creates change.

Disclaimer: 1 Based on data provided by All Aboard Florida. For more information visit: http://allaboardflorida.com/projectdetails/aaf-fact-sheet CRC 1737672 03/17 ******

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