hospitality

i sat in my office chair with a delightful middle-aged bhutanese man sitting across from me. no matter how hard i tried, i could not say no. "please. please ma'am. please come over to my house for dinner and to visit with my family," he said again and again. "i don't know, i just, i feel so happy when i come to see you," he continued, "you are like my daughter." i finally caved and agreed to stop by to visit him, his wife, and his three daughters the next day. but we agreed that i could only stay half an hour. as he got up to leave he pulled some asian candies out of his pocket and handed them to me: "this is our way. this is our culture. we give treats and kind things to others," he said. . .

. . .today i arrived at their home at 6pm, the agreed upon time. i heard nepali music playing as i walked up the stairs to their apartment. when i knocked on their door, his youngest daughter (grade 10) answered the door. she was the only one of her family home, along with a friend of hers. she explained that her sisters and mother had just left to go to the indian market. 'so much for just half an hour' i thought. i made myself comfortable, despite the ridiculous heat and the little roaches crawling along the walls (and at times my legs?). these i have become accustomed to, as i find that they greet me at just about every client's home that i visit.

soon after, the father returned home. i explained that i had to leave to be back by seven. "you americans. always just little bit of time to share. in my culture, if you ask me to your house, i stay for long time. that is the most important." yikes. true story, no?

his wife and two other daughters (mid-20s) return home from market, and the one daughter and i briefly discuss "work" matters - she needs direction/help to request financial assistance from the hospital for a recent ER visit that she cannot pay for. soon, however, she has pulled up her facebook page and is showing me all kinds of pictures. some of her job (she and her sister have been employed at the hyatt hotel as housekeepers for one full year now. others of her modeling her traditional nepali clothes ("we will dress you up in a sari! we will take your picture!" she says. maybe not.) others of her family and friends in the u.s., nepal, and bhutan. one picture is of her father hugging another of our bhutanese refugee clients. he asks "why in america is this not okay? man to hug man." "i don't know," i respond. another inexplicable cultural taboo. his daughter leaves to go help her sister and mother in the kitchen.

i ask her father about his two brothers who are still in bhutan. "why are they still there and you are here?" i ask. he proceeds to tell me his story... he worked as a postman in central bhutan. the government ordered him to move to the border and set up new offices there. when he and his family arrived, there were signs hanging there saying 'if you set up new offices, we will cut off your head.' and they would, he tells me. he knows of several people who experienced such a fate. he tells me about other friends who were imprisoned and tortured, in the case of one friend of his, to death. "on the one hand," he says," you have government telling you to set up office. and on the other hand, you have others saying don't do it. they will cut off my head. what am i to do? i think better to leave." he tells me about how he and his wife and then small four daughters fled the country to live in india with relatives for a short while. they then moved to nepal, where their ancestors were originally from before they moved to bhutan. he explains that upon moving to nepal, he went to look at the refugee camps there - "they were full of very very sick people. i thought, i do not want my family to live here. so we didn't." and for awhile the nepali government was okay with that. but a year later, they were forced to live in the refugee camps. "i live there for 18 years," he says. i cannot even begin to imagine.

as he finishes his story, i begin to smell delightful aromas coming from the kitchen. i ask if i can go see what they are cooking, and he eagerly leads me to the kitchen. his wife and three daughters are all hard at work. they insist that i sit. i ask what they are making, and i then get my first, brief, nepali cooking lesson. a blend of mixed cabbage, onion, and garlic is placed inside little circular noodle-type sheets which are then folded in half to make little dumplings. "it's called momo," they tell me. to us - dumplings. that delicious delicacy from the restaurants is apparently so easy to make! although i am extremely intrigued to learn more about cooking, they insist that i go back into the other room where the window ac unit is working extremely hard to try to make it cooler. "kitchen is too hot. please ma'am, please come in here."

soon after, a huge plate of dumplings, sauce, soup, and water are brought in and set right in front me. "eat! eat!" they all say, as they place a kleenex box next to me. i anticipate spicy. i ask if they will join me. they say this is all for me. soon after another course comes out. "it's good meat. good meat!" i choose to move past the fact that i don't really eat meat anymore, and i try it. it is good. it's not until much later that i make the realization that they are saying "it's goat meat," not "it's good meat." ah well. not my first experience with the chewy goat flesh (mexican weekend goat barbeque anyone?). they tell me it's called "mutton" in nepali and show me the box of masala that they use to make the delicious yellow sauce it's bathed in. we eat while watching nepali comedian videos on youtube.

after having eaten much more than i planned to, but still with over half the food they had given me still sitting on the plates in front of me, i tell them that i need to get going. "wait! wait!" they say, as they explain that another item is still being prepared. there's more? yikes. i suddenly feel like a customer in a restaurant as they take the food i did not eat and box it up for me to take with me. "share with your housemates," they say. "and if you and your housemates ever want good indian or nepali food - do not go to restaurant. call us! we make better." i will be sure to keep that in mind, i tell them. they box up my food, and toss in a huge portion of piaji (fried clumps of cabbage, onion, garlic, flour) on top. "breakfast tomorrow" they say.

i thank them for their hospitality and the delicious food. "perhaps you should open a restaurant!" i suggest. they laugh. "dhanyabaad" (DHAN-naii-bat) i say over and over to the family as i leave. "thank you, thank you." what a lovely saturday evening.

the leftovers i got to eat the next day .... yum!

New Roots for Refugees

Perhaps many of you recognize these pictures - perhaps you have recently seen them in a common Mennonite publication. Mennonite Mission Network's magazine "Beyond Ourselves" did a cover story on the New Roots for Refugees program - a program run partly by Catholic Charities of NE Kansas, where I work. My housemate, John, volunteers at the farm where the refugees spend their days toiling over their gardens, getting ready for selling at markets. This program is awesome, but I won't bore you with my version of it. I encourage you to check out the following links that have great information about this program:

Article in MMN's magaine "Beyond Ourselves"

New Roots for Refugees (Catholic Charities website)

New Roots Blog (Click on the tab "About Us" for a general info)

world refugee day!

This past Sunday Catholic Charities celebrated World Refugee Day with a little shindig. After spending the morning on an adventure to pick up an entire palette of watermelons from Price Chopper that Rainbow Mennonite donated to the cause, I headed to the office where a big fiesta was set up. I worked a booth with two Karenni women and one Chin woman who were selling AMAZING things they had made - scarves and bags woven on an awesome loom and adorable baby clothes hand-knitted to perfection. There were also great activities for kids, and ethnic cultural performances put on by the refugees in our community. The news even came to cover the event, and I briefly made my moment of fame on NBC (although where you see me in the shot it's me trying to get out of the picture so one of the refugee women who made the items could get in the shot!) Ah well. Check it out:

Click here for the article by NBC.

visit from the parental units

this past weekend i was blessed to host my parents at my house in kansas city. the troopers that they are, they spent 12 hours in a car (or should i say "the ugly") to get here. but i think it was worth the drive!

we of course spent a large portion of our time together eating at various restaurants - getting lots of ideas of what to do, and sometimes what not to do, at schmucker's. i started the weekend by writing down each thing we all ordered, but soon forgot as we were eating such delicious food! i of course made them return to my two favorites: Blanc Burgers & Bottles as well as Oklahoma Joe's for classic kansas city barbeque. but i have to say my bestest culinary adventure that weekend was eating CHOCOLATE PEANUT BUTTER PIE from the one and only Schmucker's! dad brought out the deliciousness and it was by far the best thing i have eaten in months. definitely beats the typical beans and rice i eat on a daily basis! in the words of my aunt cynthia... "YUMMY!"

we also spent a fair amount of time working outside around the house. we drove about a half hour southeast of the city to pick up a rain barrel from some old warehouse.... 250 gallon bucket for $30! sign me up! but then we had to clean it and dad spent a long time hooking it up right to the gutter and getting a good valve for the end of it so we can water our GARDEN! yay! we also put up a fence around the garden to keep out the stray dogs that have been making their way into our beds of vegetables on an all-too-regular basis these days. and of course mom made two beautiful planters of flowers for our front stoop like she always does for my house! i am so grateful for all the help my parents lent this past weekend to beautify/mejorar my home :)

it was a lovely weekend that went all too fast (although i am grateful to be back sleeping in my own bed again...) my parents all the bestest ever. maybe someday soon i will live somewhere where they can visit me more than once or twice a year! here's hoping ...

the planting has begun!

The planting has begun...

My housemate john planted 72 tomato plants (yikes!) along with a select few other veggies to be transplanted later...

Our land is FULL of rocks. Everywhere. Pieces of foundation. Its ridiculous. So needless to say, using a tiller is out of the question. So we just use our brute strength, a hoe, and the garden weasel to make our raised beds by hand!

Here is the status of the herb garden. I transplanted some garlic chives from over in the other garden, and I also planted parsley and cilantro.

Here is the rest of the land we have to work with. Still lots to be done, lots of beds to be raised, lots of fun to be had!

The garden with the VS house in the background. Looking good!

snakes.

a few weeks ago john and i trompsed out into the plot across the street to get started on clearing out what will become our garden. we spent hours raking out brush, bushes, trash, etc. from the land. as i was raking out a big section of hay, our neighbors came running as they heard me let out a big scream. there was a (in my opinion) HUGE snake writhing around in what we quickly named "the snake pit." john took the snake across the street to an empty piece of land. and i kept raking. until i found another one. and another. and another. we ended up removing 6 snakes from the pit and i'm pretty sure i heard others rustling about in there. oh the adventures of starting up this garden....

spring is here.... ?

After several lovely days of 70+ degree weather these past few weeks, today it snowed.

but that did not deter me and my housemate john for getting an official start on our garden! now, i have never really gardened before, but luckily john's job, and his knowledge, is all about gardening. so my, our, garden will be in good hands!

this morning we started by planning what things we would like to grow in our garden, then dividing them into families, and trying to map out what our garden will look like...

across the street from us there is an empty plot of land. it appears as if someone used to garden on it, but has been somewhat abandoned lately...

(here is a look at the plot across the street)

lucky for us, RDA (Rosedale Development Association...[Rosedale is the neighborhood i live in]) officially "purchased" this land, and has given the MVS house permission to use it for gardening. it looks like it's going to be a lot of work, but i'm super pumped about giving it a shot!

(here my housemate john scopes out the scene)

(here is a view of the plot with the VS house in the background)

in addition to the numerous vegetables and other fun items we hope to grow across the street, we have a little slice of land next to our house that has been used by past VSers as a garden of sorts. we have decided this year to make it our herb garden full of basil, parsley, cilantro, and other goodies. today, despite the snow and sub-freezing temperatures, john and i trompsed out to get started on our herb garden.

(here is a look at the "garden" before we got started)

after a couple of hours of work, this small piece of land was transformed and is ready for some herbs to planted!

mmm pretty soil!

stay tuned for future updates on my gardening adventures this spring/summer!

my first airport pickup.

the sun is just setting as jessica and i hop in the catholic charities van and head out on our adventure. we make a quick stop to pick up B., a bhutanese refugee who was resettled in kansas city about 2 months ago. he and his friend are giddy with anticipation as they join jessica and i in the van. we hop on the highway and head north towards the kansas city airport, about 25 minutes north of our office.

we arrive 6 minutes before the flight is supposed to get in. B. and his friend follow us into the airport as we try to find the gate out of which our new arrivals will come. as we anxiously wait, B. explains to us that it is his brother-in-law (his wife's brother) along with his brother-in-law's wife and son, and father-in-law, that will be arriving shortly. while we wait i wonder how this new family will know where to go when they get off the plane. jessica reassures me that the big IOM (international organization for migration) stickers they wear are like a flashing red light and all stewards/stewardesses are trained to help people wearing those stickers to find their way.

in a moment, i see a bhutanese family cautiously walking out the exitway, apprehensive about each step and unsure of what lies ahead of them, what their immediate and longterm futures hold. B. goes up to them, but no words are exchanged, nor embraces. B. puts his hand on his brother-in-law's shoulder and says to me and jessica "this is the one." "welcome to the united states!" she says, even though they don't understand a word. the young boy with them quickly warms to his uncle that he hasn't seen in a long time, but the adults remain very quiet and apprehensive. we lead them to the baggage claim where we pick up the two bags that they have brought with them. 4 people. 2 bags. all of their possessions.

after a snafu with seating arrangements in the van (involving the newly arrived grandpa sitting in the booster seat instead of the boy) we make sure everyone has their seatbelts on and we are on our way. a rough bump in the parking results in B.'s head banging loudly with a very loud thump against the window and i spend about the next 5 minutes trying to subdue my laughter. these new refugees probably think i am nuts. nevertheless, we are on our way, headed back south towards the city.

we pull up to J.R.'s house, in a public housing complex. J.R.'s wife, B.'s wife, and the new arrival are all siblings. Although we try to make a slick exit, jessica and i are herded into the home along with everyone else. there sits grandpa, a little ninety-something-year-old bhutanese man with no teeth, sandals on his feet despite the snow, and a wood walking stick in his hand. what a delight. despite our protests we are forced to sit and enjoy some conversation with this large bhutanese family. B.'s wife immediately brings jessica and i glasses of cold pop, which we apprehensively accept, wondering why we are being offered beverages before this new arrival family that has spent their last 24 hours in travel leaving all they have ever known to start a new life in the united states.

it is getting late and jessica and i eventually leave, wishing the new family a restful night's sleep. as we head back towards the office i sit in wonder, completely unable to grasp what this new family is thinking at this moment in their lives. i have no idea what they have been through, and frankly have no true grasp of what their new realities will be like. i wish them the best. and who knows, maybe in 90 days after they've aged out of the reception and placement program, i might get to be their new case manager!

everything is broken.

I just finished reading a book that one of our Burmese interpreters loaned to me entitled "Everything is Broken: A Tale of Catastrophe in Burma" by Emma Larkin (a pseudonym). The book focused on Cyclone Nargis that made landfall in Burma on May 2, 2008. Focusing on this catastrophe and the Burmese government's response (or more accurately, a lack-thereof, and illicit denial of international aid), the book takes a critical look at the reality of life in Burma today and the military dictatorship that runs it.

If you want a good read that gives you a great look into the life of the Burmese, a highly recommend this book! Below are a few snipits taken directly from the book:

Events happen in Burma, and then they are systematically unhappened...Life goes on, economic conditions become untenable, the people rise up (individually or together), and the army cracks down. It is a relentless, unforgiving, and utterly exhausting cycle.

Parents cannot afford to send their children to school due to the unofficial bribes they have to pay for entrance fees and the inflated price of textbooks and uniforms. Patients at hospitals have to purchase overpriced medicines and sometimes even pay for the equipment necessary to treat their illnesses. People across the country are impoverished by random and illicit taxes charged by the township authorities for common amenities such as street lighting, which, as one letter writer made sure to point out, often don't work anyway.

The letters detail a wide variety of injustices, from forced labor and the confiscation of land to travel prohibitions and lack of political freedom, but the main concern voiced in the majority of the letters is about the rising cost of living. According to this incomplete poll, the biggest fear in Burma is, How am I going to feed my family?

To my mind, this is one of the great tragedies of life in Burma: that recent historical events - both large and small - cannot be honestly and openly acknowledged, debated, or even remembered within the country. Instead, the exact opposite takes place, and Burma's history is swallowed up by a strictly enforced collective forgetting.

Whenever I think of Burma these days, the Buddhist parable the blind men and the elephant comes to mind. In the age-old teaching, a king summons a group of blind men and places an elephant before them. Each sightless man is led to a different part of the elephant's body to touch the animal and feel what it is like. The king then asks each in turn to describe the elephant.

The man who felt the founded head says confidently that the elephant is like a water jar. Another, who felt the cylindrical foot, says the elephant is like a pillar. The man who felt the tusk says it is like an iron rod, and the one who felt the tuft of the tail says it is like a broom. Before long the blind men are arguing over their description of the elephant, since each one is convinced that his description is correct.

It is the same in Burma today. Given the regime's restrictions on information and association, it is difficult to form any public consensus or verifiable version of the truth. While certain events can be accounted for with certainty, there is much that remains unknown. Like those blind men in the parable, it has become impossible for anyone to see or fathom the beast in its entirety.

In a society where nothing can be taken for granted, distorted truths, half stories, and private visions are, by necessity, woven into the popular narrative of events. Burma is a place where the government hides behind convoluted smoke screens. It is a place where those who sacrifice themselves for their country must go unrecognized and can only be lauded or remembered in secret. It is a place where natural disasters don't happen, at least not officially, and where the gaping misery that follows any catastrophe must be covered up and silenced. In such an environment, almost anything becomes believable.

life in burma....

i think that the reason i took this volunteer position was to help this one client in particular that i have. he's the kind that makes me wonder - if i hadn't come along, what would have happened to him?

since i met him back in september, he has been homeless and unemployed. he has struggled with depression and alcoholism. he can be somewhat paranoid about what others say about him. the general burmese community does not offer him any sense of community. at times i have seen an utter lack of hope in his eyes. and frankly, i can't blame him for any of it...

in order to seek a better life and escape the horrors of living in Burma under the military dictatorship, my client and his family spent time in both Thailand and Malaysia. While trying to work in Malaysia, my client was arrested for being there without proper documentation. While he was in jail, his wife and three children went back to Burma. After awhile, he was given the offer to go to Denmark as a refugee - he denied. Awhile later, he was offered a life in the United States with refugee status - which he accepted.

as of right now, he has no home. he has no job. he hasn't seen his wife or three children in years. and he doesn't have the money to even call and talk to them.

his story, their story, tears my heart.

there is an interpreter that we use from time to time - she is Burmese and came to the United States 18 years ago. and for whatever reason she has really made it her mission to help my client, even though she doesn't have much herself. her father still lives in burma. her father is 70-something years old. and last week, he set out on a journey to find my client's wife and three children in a small village in burma. his journey was long, and included canoe rides in areas where there are no land routes. but he made it. he found them.

but things are not good. my client's wife is having heart issues. they are all sick. they do not have money for food. they do not have money to stay in their home - they will be kicked out this month. they have tried countless times to send their marriage and birth certificates to my client so that they can join him through the family reunification process. but for whatever reason the mail has not gotten to him. they need help.

the interpreter's father who went to visit my client's wife and children took a digital camera with him. he took some pictures and emailed them to his daughter, who then emailed them to me. i was able to print them out and give them to my client. i cannot imagine what it was like for him to see these pictures of his family and his home that he has not seen in years, and doesn't know if he will ever see again....

cognitive dissonance

Cognitive Dissonance ~ the feeling

of uncomfortable tension which

comes from holding two

conflicting thoughts in the mind

at the same time.

Dissonance is often strong when we believe something about ourselves and then do something against that belief. If I believe I am good but do something bad, then the discomfort I feel as a result is cognitive dissonance.

The other night I watched the documentary entitled "Burma: An Indictment" (see blog below).

Tonight, I sat at Rainbow Mennonite Church and watched someone spend $100 on a carrot cake.

Now, I understand that the stained-glass windows at RMC really may be in need of repair, and that an auction was a good way to raise funds. But my mind is going crazy.

Here we are, sitting in our comfortable homes at our computers, sipping a cup of coffee while dinner is cooking in the kitchen. We never wonder where our next meal will come from. It's just always there.

Here I am, standing in the book store. Ooo that book looks good. I buy it.

Here I am, at the shoe store. Ooo those socks look comfortable. I buy them.

Here you are, sitting at the stained-glass window fundraiser. Ooo that cake looks good. You buy it. For one hundred dollars.

Do you have any idea what $100 would mean to a family in the jungle of Burma fleeing for their lives? And you just spent it on a cake. a CAKE.

I have a problem... If I want something, I buy it. I know not everyone is like that, but the reality is, we have everything we need, and then some. no - and then A LOT.

How can I watch "Burma: An Indictment" and then turn around and spend my money on a book I could have rented from the library?

How can I listen to my client tell me about his wife and children suffering in Burma - no food, no money, no home - and then spend an amount that would feed them for weeks on a pair of socks just because I thought they were comfortable?

Who cares if our stained-glass windows at church are in need of repair? There are people SUFFERING, in ways we cannot even comprehend, across the globe, and here we sit spending ridiculous amounts of money on a cake in order to make our church building more aesthetically pleasing.

There is something not right with this.

thai food and horror in burma

Thursday after work I went to Lulu's with some coworkers to enjoy some delicious Thai food. We enjoyed some tasty eats and delightful conversation. The light mood was filled with laughter and good times.

We then made our way to the Screenland theater for the showing of a documentary on Burma. Oh how the mood quickly changed...

*Burma: An Indictment--a film by Jeremy Taylor

Thursday, February 10^th 2011 - 7pm

Theme: Burmese Refugees

“Learn the truth that reveals the secrets of Burma”

Murder! Rape! Slavery! Torture! - part of the daily routine for the Burmese people. “BURMA: AN INDICTMENT” shows the inhumane conditions the gentle Burmese people suffer every day.

Watch families snake their way across the Thai border to receive the most basic health care. Experience the hell of a man who was kept in solitary confinement for fifteen years! Listen to the monks _ now living in exile – who started the “Saffron Revolution”.

Witness the squalor of the Thai refugee camp and view shocking footage of Cyclone Nargis victims. “BURMA: AN INDICTMENT” exposes a wealthy country whose people are starving in the streets helpless at the hands of a brutal military dictatorship.

Click here to watch the trailer on YouTube (warning: it's not pleasant)

It was hard to watch. It is so much easier when you know bad things are going on in the world but you don't have a personal connection to it. But watching this movie, all I could think about was how I now personally KNOW so many people that have experienced this horror. And so many of their family members and friends still are experiencing this horror.

The junta rules by fear. In the black zone they kill anyone they see. They take child soldiers from their parents by offering them food and money. They make civilians walk in front of them so that the civilians get blown up by the landmines and not the soldiers. They ransack villages and force everybody out, placing landmines where they know villagers have stored food so that when they come back for it they are killed. They make the people do whatever they want them to because frankly, if they don't, they'll die. They imprison and torture anyone who speaks out against them.

Burma is a land of GREAT natural resources. And yet it is the poorest country outside of Africa.

I once wondered out loud at work - "How do our clients stand these awful, painful, de-humanizing jobs they are working at in the United States?" And someone quickly reminded me - "It's a lot easier than running through the jungles of Burma being shot at." Sometimes I forget what my clients have been through. This movie was a good (and by good i mean awful) reminder.

more with less.

When I was home this past summer, I found my mom's "Living More With Less" book and I started to read it. On the inside of the front cover was a delightful little note my date wrote to my mom when he gave her the gift for their second wedding anniversary. I began reading it, but it was slow going. I can't say I remember exactly why, but I didn't read more than 20 pages before picking up a different night time read.

For Christmas this past year, my parents gave me the most delightful gift: the 30th anniversary edition of "Living More With Less." I read it lickity-split. IT IS SO GOOD. I am so inspired.

For those of you who have never read it, or for those of you who have only read the original version - I encourage you to read the 30th anniversary edition. It is full of ideas and inspiration of how to live more simply in the present.

READ IT!

blizzard 2011 in pictures

last night (tuesday night) after the blizzard had been raging all day long, this was the look out my bedroom window...

today, this was the only (sad) tool i had to work with:

oh how i wish i had one of these instead!

for mom - some lovely pictures of the lovely snow the day after with sun shining BRIGHT!

the official measurement (not that much in the end, but still lots!)
a little buddy who joined me on my afternoon walk, except the little dude had to jump like crazy because the snow was like up to his head!

cute.

our house.

what i spent two hours this afternoon doing: shoveling out our street where we park our cars.... i'm sore...
the piles of snow that i moved from the road to the sidewalk

the view this morning out my window before the attempts to clear away the snow began

good times. great snow. sore back. love it.

i am my mother's daughter.

Saturday, January 29, 2011, 7:06pm

As we sit around the dinner table I am content. With good company over for dinner and delicious curry on my plate, there is not much more I could want.

Sunday, January 30, 2011, 12:37pm

As I walk through the front doors after church I take a deep breathe before walking into the kitchen...just as i had suspected. It is a disaster. Although we had a lovely time last night, the kitchen looks as if a tornado had flown through it. Almost every dish in our kitchen is dirty and sprawled across the counter. John, Leslie, and I spend about two hours cleaning up the huge mess. I breath a sigh of relief as I look around the "clean" kitchen, all the while knowing it won't last long.

Tuesday, February 1, 2011, 9:00am

I roll out of bed. It is 9:00am. In anticipation of the blizzard coming today, my office has been closed, and I got the joy of staying in bed until 9am. But I know what awaits me downstairs. I put it off all morning, but by about 1 pm I can't stand it anymore. There are no longer any clean forks to eat with, no clean plates to eat on. everything is dirty, and lying in the sink or strewn about the counter. Somehow, even though I had the kitchen spotless less than 48 hours ago, we are back at the same state - ALL the dishes are dirty. and sitting on the counter. and no one else is going to wash them.....

So, I dig in. As I watch the snow swirling around outside, coming down at about 3 inches an hour amidst 30 mph winds, I put on my apron and draw some water. I will have drawn water 3 times before all the dishes are clean. Luckily, I have my ipod and some good music to keep me company, because this is not a unique situation. On the contrary, it happens way too often for my liking. But alas, I clean. Although our dishwasher doesn't function, I am constantly grateful to have it - without there would be no place to put all the clean dishes to dry. As it is, even with the glorified drying rack we call a broken dishwasher, there isn't enough room to let the dishes dry.

An hour and a half later, as I put the last clean, dry dish in it's place in the cupboard, I survey the scene and make a mental note of the "before and after" shots of the scene:

before after

I know I'm crazy. I readily admit to my housemates that I have a kitchen cleaning problem. But on the other hand, they aren't always super eager to help with that problem either. So in the meantime, I'll enjoy my clean kitchen while I can. Chances are in less than a day it will be back to the same state of affairs: no clean forks. no bowl to eat my cereal out of. no clean glass for a drink of water. ba.humbug.

*disclaimer* - i'm nuts. i know. i just love, and relish, a clean kitchen. it helps me sleep at night....

ah, the beauty of it...

rohingya

Just to keep you all updated with the world news....

check out this link

and this video

it's interesting how links on CNN that i would have just passed by before, not really knowing what they were talking about, are links that spark my interest now. it's like a whole new world (yes, aladdin) has been opened to me because of this job. crazy.... makes me wonder about the fifty bazillion other things going on in the world that i have had no exposure to and just know nothing about...

the Bhutanese in Kansas City

Today I received an email from a Bhutanese community member about an article and video that a student journalist had created about the Bhutanese community in Kansas City. Feel free to check it out at this link:

http://footslogging.com/kansas-city/

The movie is a little long, but the article is well-written as well. And the video and the pictures in the article are full of people that I work with on a daily basis. So if you have a few minutes, and want to read or hear a little bit about the struggles of being a Bhutanese refugee in Kansas City, check out that link!

snow day!

about a year ago i wrote a blog (who knew rain days existed) about my surprise at school being cancelled due to rain. perhaps it was due to the street turning into a muddy river. or perhaps it was due to a different culture that knows how, and when, to stop and take a breath.

today i was reminded of this when i got a text from my boss at 8 am saying "the office is closed today. go build a snowman!" my immediate response was - what? real people with real people jobs get snow days too?! i figured that one of many sacrifices i was going to have to make by choosing a job other than teaching was to give up snow days. what a delightful surprise to be wrong!

i hurried downstairs and made celebratory pancakes (with butterscotch chips, of course) for myself and my housemates who ALSO all had snow days. we then spent the rest of the day doing absolutely nothing. we knitted. we had craft time. we watched movies. we ate. we just took a breather (minus my short attempt at shoveling that i quickly abandoned as i realized the sidewalk was getting re-covered in snow just as quickly as i was clearing it). it was a delight to just to stop. and enjoy a day. it was different than any saturday. there is always something to do, an errand to run, a room to be cleaned, something on any given weekend. but having a snow day today allowed me just to relax.

i realized two things today:

1. i was extremely surprised that a company in the United States would close its office for a little bit of snow. in our culture of go-go-go-work-work-work-achieve-achieve-achieve, it was a shock (a pleasant one, albeit) that so many organizations/businesses would close down.

2. maybe the families in La Via in Cuernavaca, Mexico had it right - when the weather isn't ideal, there's no need to make a hassle for your day and try to fight it - simply take the day off, stay home, enjoy some relaxation and free time.

i wish our culture could embrace that idea better. next time it's pouring down rain, don't go to the grocery store just because you had planned to. the groceries will be there tomorrow. . . take a breather. take a break. just enjoying being.

technology and reality

Yesterday an Iraqi client of mine asked me if I could bring her mother and father to the United States from Iraq. I carefully explained (per our attorney's information) to my client that here in the United States we can apply for a refugee's spouse or children to join them (through family reunification), but that a refugee's siblings and parents were not able to do so. My client quickly explained that her parents were in poor health and needed desperately to come to the United States. Wasn't there anything I could do to help them come? ... I used the usual phrase when all I really want to say is "I have no idea!" - saying, instead, "let me talk to my supervisors and see what we can find out and i will let you know in a few days." my client took this in stride and quietly left my office.

Later that afternoon I talked to my boss's (or is it boss'?) boss's boss. She said that my client's parents were VERY lucky for the following reasons:

In every country in the world, other than Iraq, in order to apply to come to the United States (or any other resettling country) as a refugee, you have to FLEE your own country to another country first. You then have to prove that it is unsafe for you return to your home country. HOWEVER, Iraq is the ONLY country in which this is not the case. In Iraq, you can go to the UN offices in Baghdad itself and apply for refugee status if you prove that you are in danger living there. Hmmmm, that sounded easy enough....

The next day I went to my client's home (slickly turning down an offer for more arabic coffee first...) to take my clients to sign a few papers. When I walked in the door my client and her family were gathered around their computer - on which was a video of a dark room with a couple of figures in the foreground. "Natalie! Quick! Come say hi! It's my parents in Iraq!" I try to simply wave and say hi to the people i see on the screen that are half a world away, but I am quickly hurried over to the screen, sat down on the chair, and a set of headphones/microphone are placed on my head. Welp, guess I'm talking to them now... After impressing them with my limited Arabic and a greeting of "how are you?" I hear - "Please, please help us. We are very sick and need to come to the United States." i proceed to explain to them, and my clients, what my boss' boss' boss had told me. should be easily done right? "here? in baghdad? at the UN?" "yes," i tell them, "easy as that!" "but," they reply, "we are so old and sick. and we never EVER leave the house. there are bombs everywhere and killings all the time. how will we get to the UN?"

wow ... did i ever take for granted the fact that I can safely walk out my front door whenever i feel like it. . . hello reality check.