"Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end." -Seneca

If a lizard was croaking in Marigold right now, you would be able to hear it. If a Mango dropped on the tin school roof, the noise would ricashae through to the front yard. You would be able to hear the snapping of branches as someone walked from one part to the next. And the sound of the television on high would be the equivalent of a loud speaker booming into an empty stadium. Emptiness. Hollowness. Clarity. The closet has been looted, plundered, ransacked. Most of the clothing in the shelves have left Marigold with the children.

Last night was painful. Elin and I made the rest of the goodie bags for the children. And packing them into a large bag, I felt a creeping sense of foreboding tip toeing across my body. Each bag represented a child that I have spent my summer with. A child that I have fed, has probably doo-dooed and peed on me, and has probably fell asleep in my arms. These children have been with me all the time, mostly unintentionally, but reminders of them are stained everywhere. I slept uneasily. I dreaded the 6:30am alarm that would be screaming "WAKE UP TARA, TIME TO SAY GOODBYE TO THE KIDS!!" Instead I woke up a little more peacefully; to the smell of incense and candles burning in the living room. Mom had of course made herself right at home. She greeted me by rubbing essential oils on my chest, face and ears. Explaining to me what each one stood for... gratitude, joy, trauma relief,  happiness. All things to help me maintain strength during today.

These children were downright adorable this morning. That is not to say they are not always adorable, but this morning they were different. Nicer with one another. The children shared and did it gently. Jackie gave us twice the daily dose of "i love you's" and kisses. I don't think I saw Leisha hit someone once (but then again just because I did not see it does not mean she evaded me, Leish always finds a way). Janeel was crying by herself on the ground, and then Akheel, her brother, ran up to her and tried to lift her up and console her. Michael giggled uncontrollably when I responded to his "no" with "yes yes yes." And when I went to give him a kiss on the cheek and I got one straight on the lips. My lucky day huh? So from start to finish, Elin and I captured the whole day on camera. We walked away from Marigold today silent as can be, with our minds as loud as ever and with 315 new memories to remember the children by.

This morning, we played like we always do. In the swings. On the cars. On the benches. Hanging from Elin and I. (The kids have so much style, what can we say?) Then reality sunk in like the moment when the cement you poured becomes too viscous to be undone. Tough to the point of no return. It sets. and it hardens. The kids, those that were left, would be joining their fellow Marigoldians in other homes in Kingston. This was it. Time for the kids to fly on their own. The children were summoned to the bathroom to be cleaned. And from there the day went by in a flash. They were showered. Then dressed. then labeled. Fed a snack. And in the middle of it all the bus arrived. My heart dropped to my knees. The driver walked in with a clipboard and a checklist. Naming names and calling children. The youngest followed the eldest into the bus. And as I held Lorraine, Janeel locked eyes with me for just a moment... her little body being pushed in the crowd to board the van. I braced myself. I looked back into the empty Veranda. And looked forward to see Janeel, Jackie, and Kellina waving to me through the glass of the bus. The bus was loaded and packed with 4 workers and 13 children. We held their hands, and said "see ya later!" being met with grins in return. "Me ya go way!" They all shouted. 

 And at the exact moment I was getting ready to walk away from the bus, one of the workers said "ya nah come go way wit us?" We jumped in the van. Not thinking about my tendency to get very car sick, I ended up in the extreme back of the bus, 4 rows preceding mine. About to journey through the rocky roads of Kingston to three different homes to place the children. here we go. If I threw up I threw up. Let it come. I really did not care.

Heavy car sickness followed. The ache in my stomach was slowly pushed away as we drove into the first home. Where we said goodbye to 3 beautiful babies and Jackstar. She walked into her new home with a trash bag filled with clothes, her goodie bag, and a toy. I will never forget her screaming "TAWAAAAA!!!!" at the top of her lungs every morning to get my attention. Her love is indescribably raw and pure. I love her so much.

And then we got back in the bus. Where the children had grown uncharacteristically quiet. And we went to the next home. Where all but two would be staying. Elin and I were so funny. We went around introducing all the Marigold kids to the kids from the home saying "these are our special friends, will you play with them?" The children were beyond sweet. Well-mannered and well-behaved. It was a place covered in paint and artwork. Even a small aquarium filled with tropical fish. And Michael LOVED it. He jumped out of the bus and ran through the building ending up in the indoor playground. And while Bimbola tried out his new walker in his new yellow crocs that Elin picked out for him, Janeel sat serenely on my hip and Akheel ran to my legs and hid himself behind them. When I picked him up to go on my other hip, I felt the familiar rush of warmth running down my legs. And he looked up at me with two huge pools in his big brown eyes. As much as I wanted to say something, I couldn't. I just gave him a big big kiss and shook out my legs and fed them both their shark bites. Then Ms. Murphy called us to be leaving. And Akheel grabbed on to me like I was his pulmonary vein. I bent down to try and level with him. Tried to tell him I had to leave and that he had to let go, and to watch out for his sister. But then I realized how silly trying to level with a 4 year old would be. So I told him I would see him soon, gave him the biggest hug I had in me, and I trudged onto the bus..feeling like I was leaving something of mine behind that had never belonged to me in the first place. So once again, I practice letting go. When we got back in the car, Elin looked to me and said "They have each other." This coated the lining of my stomach for the journey to our third and final destination. Kellina and Jahrine were fascinated by their new home. It has big beds for all the children and there are toys within arms reach. They inspected the place from head to toe, Kellina checking out her new stomping grounds. When Ms. Murphy was leaving them she said "now behave you two. And when mummy and daddy come for you you tell daddy to behave himself. and you tell mummy to behave herself. so you can be a family again. Be good." And with that we boarded the bus back to a Marigold that would never quite be the same for us. That would forever be a slightly different place. 

So we did what any two people would do after a day like today: we collapsed.

After a full night's sleep, Elin has been asleep for 4 hours. And I slept for 3 this afternoon. Our intravenous of emotions were poured silently into each and every person at Marigold today. Leaving us with no more than 10 pints of blood, all the right parts, and a bruised heart to go home with. So we slept. In the sunlight. In awkward positions on short couches. With the TV blaring. And my Mom on the phone. We slept like babies.  And in my sleep I thought about our time here.

Over the last five weeks, we've been something different for the children.  A set of unfamiliar faces who grew into "mama's", who grew into something resembling "teachers", who grew into "auntie's" and "miss's". We were something just a little different. Ladders for some, beds for others. A source of information for the older ones. "Tara, spell Donkey." "Elin, write my name hur soh." For some, we were protection from swatting hands. For others we were comfort when distress would cause tears shed. And in general, we were just pure entertainment. But most of all, I hope we were love. So I picture these kids running around from head to toe covered in flour. and i mean COVERED. Like if you were to take flour and smear it everywhere. I picture these kids running out of a bath of flour. Super messy. And after some time the flour will eventually fade. like all things do. but there will be remnants in weird places for a while. Like the tops of your ears. Or underneath your toenails. Things stick in weird places. I hope we stick like flour does.

And with that, a new chapter begins today. Every new beginning comes from a beginning's end. And it is time for the snake to shed the skin. Snakes shed their skin to allow for growth, as well as to remove parasites along with their old skin. and the way the snakes get the layer off is by rubbing themselves against a sharp rock to get the skin loosened up. So Quite literally Marigold will be shedding a layer in the next two weeks. We will be reorganizing the files, cleaning out anything extra, painting murals, repairing, and building. Elin and I only know how to do about 1/3 of these things.. a journey of a thousand miles starts with one step right?

putting one foot in front of another,(just like kellina)

tkm

you have to be willing to get happy about nothing -Andy Warhol

friday
today was the quintessential Marigold day--crazy, tiring, bizarre, joyful, hilarious, heavy, challenging, and wonderful. as soon as we walked in this morning, we could tell that everyone was unsettled. the children finally knew they were leaving, greeting us with: "me ya go way!" the caregivers were talking in hushed voices with one another, filling the time before their meeting with representatives of the Head Office who were coming at ten in the morning to tell them where they were being assigned during the renovations. it was a tense time for everyone, uncertainty permeating the air, stress puppeteering all interactions.


we spent the beginning of the morning in school with Ms. Williams, and it was crazy. the children were everywhere, climbing under the chalkboard, standing on their chairs, crying, laughing, yelling across the room, using Tara and I as ladders, sweeping.

after Ms. Williams decided she needed to rearrange the seating to help keep the children under control and moved all of the young children away from Tara and me, we got the hint and went down to Marigold for a little. while we were down there, Ms. Brown walked up to us in the kitchen and said, "Hi, Teachers!!" we were so touched that this is what she chose to call us and smiled back, telling her good morning and asking how she was doing. by this time the meeting was about to start, so we went up to the school to tell Ms. Williams everyone was ready to talk. this is when we found out what Ms. Brown was talking about. we were going to be the teachers for the morning. let's go.

the morning was absolutely hysterical. it was one of those times when all you can do is laugh along with the kids because it is so ridiculous that nothing else makes sense. we started out with the younger kids playing with play dough and the older children drawing with crayons and construction paper. the younger ones were having such a good time making snakes and bracelets with the dough, watching balls form as they rolled their hands this way and then squeeling with excitement as their ball turned into a pancake when they banged it on the table. then Ronaldino decided to climb up the shudders on the window in an attempt to pull the curtains down. and every older child in the room wanted Tara to write their name on their paper. and Jamani discovered that he loves the taste of green play dough. from here, the small school room slowly spiraled into an hour-and-a-half-long fiasco, the energy of which rivaled the hurricane that was going on outside that kept bombing the tin roof with mangoes. baby dolls, crayons, chairs and shoes became the ammunition of a small war taking place in the corner by Ms. William's desk. the other side of the classroom that was blocked by the chalkboard became an irresistible temptation, the identical setting gilded with that mouth-watering coating of something forbidden. under the chalkboard, over the chairs, between the chairs used to block the space under the chalkboard, over the desk--nothing was too much to keep the children away from the other side. we have some strong-willed kids. after the stack of construction paper left on the desk began to appear less than the number of balled-up sheets scattered on the floor, Tara's genius shone in all it's strength and she put on Dora the Explorer (who is now our best friend. Bless her.) immediately the children calmed down, mesmerized by Swiper doing his thing and Backpack magically having everything Dora needed. the children helped Dora choose which path to take down the river twice, helped identify a triangle out of a group of shapes, and pointed out the castle when they saw it on the other side of the mountain Dora had to cross. such little helpers. Dora was still playing when the paint on the other side of the class became too much for Jamani, Etana and Leisha to resist. peering around the chalkboard, Tara saw Leisha looking back at her with paint dripping from the corners of her mouth, Jamani finger painting Ms. Mckie's desk, and Etana holding her multi-colored hands up to show her how pretty.


when Ms. Williams returned, she said, "children, how is the room such a mess?" oops... 


after cleaning up with the children, we left Ms. Williams to enjoy a last day with her students. shutting the door behind us as we walked back to Marigold, i couldn't help but smile knowing what a gift the morning was. for all of its craziness, for all of it's absolutely ridiculous moments, it was so pure. the kids were just themselves, making messes and being mischievous and not afraid to get into trouble. they made the space into a preschool, finding everything entertaining in the room and playing with it, working their minds and being creative. they filled our hearts with memories of endearing manifestations of their quirky selves, unintentionally offering us the best good bye gift possible.

it was time for Danielle and Raj to leave for their new home. and they were so ready. Danielle has been so excited to go since she and Raj visited on Wednesday, and when she was called from school to get ready, a huge smile lit up her face. she has the most beautiful heart, and i am so grateful for the home she is going to, one we've heard is a place of nurture, hope, family and smiles. she will fit in perfectly. as will Raj with his quiet and peaceful demeanor that downplays the joy inside of him. when he swings by himself, he sings the songs from school out loud.

we spent the rest of the day with the 11 children who were preparing to leave for a different home. it was such a big time for the children. they were about to walk out of the gates of Marigold, walls that rise only four feet off the ground but represent an insurmountable barrier. they were about to get on a bus and drive through the traffic lights they struggle to picture while hearing about them in school. they were about to sleep in their own bed. they were about to enjoy a day that did not follow the routine they have moved through every day they've lived there. they were about to make new friends and explore a new home. i could just picture them being introduced to new children, being shown where they can put their things, which bed is theirs. they were about to trade a place of transience for a home. win. 

it hurt to say goodbye. i don't think i realized just how close i'd become with the children until we were putting their socks on, lacing up their shoes and buttoning their shirts for the last time. but they were so, so excited. i asked Raymond, a little boy who has lived at Marigold for the entire six years of his life, if he was excited to leave. he looked at me with the brightest sparkle in his eye, nodded, and said "yes. i'm happy." and he is. i could tell. and as he walked around telling all of his friends, "me nah come back. me ya go and nah come back," i was so happy it was finally his turn. living at Marigold for six years, all of the friends he has made have left before him. he's said goodbye to those who were not coming back, waving to them from the bars of the veranda. and now it was our turn to wave goodbye to him. it was his turn to not come back. it's his turn to live. 

we know we'll have to say goodbye to the rest of the children next week. putting together little goody bags for the children, we've been talking about how excited we are for the children. it's so cool to see the children move to new homes, to see them light up talking about what is awaiting them when the bus parks. it's so strange to think about their mobility, to think that all it takes is for one director to sign Ms. Wiles' piece of paper and that's it. they're ready to go. i think about the lengths i went through just to pack for these eight weeks. all the stuff i decided to bring or leave behind. i thought about my room at home, the notes from friends hanging on the wall, the pictures framed on shelves, paint that i picked out, movie ticket stubs scattering the counter, my life. and here are these children who stood naked just minutes before they left for their new homes. it was just them, standing there, telling Tara and I they were about to go away. they are just their hearts. they are their spirits, their souls. they're their voices, their laughter, their smiles. they are fragmented memories pieced together by perspective. their lives aren't about possessions or places, just about who they are. maybe it's this simplicity that allows them to love so freely. 

already planning visits to see the children in their new places, we turn to a new phase of the trip. it'll be so weird to be in Marigold without our children. for the past five weeks, they have been Marigold. and, really, i think they will always be Marigold to us. certainly, they'll always be with us. 

Raymond, i hope happiness took on a new meaning today. 

love ya,

eeb

"It has been said that something as small as the flutter of a butterfly's wing can ultimately cause a typhoon halfway around the world." Chaos Theory

Wednesday. We made tambourines, hung up the solar system and made treats for the kids. As Elin ran with Bimbola on her back for most of the afternoon, I had a DD (Dudus Discussion) with the teachers and Steve, the gardener. It has been a rich experience to hear all of the different opinions about the alleged drug lord who brought Jamaica into guerrilla warfare and caused a massacre in Tivoli Gardens. From the top of the hill to the bottom of the hill (Literally, Jamaica is naturally sloped, closest to the water is the lowest elevation), the opinions vary significantly. With word of his arrest, DD's have been flaring up across the country and internationally as well. Used to hearing fairly negative things about him, I was intrigued when I heard some workers referring to him as "the Prez", defending his good acts for the poor. Everyone has their two-cents on the situation.. as they should. Executed. Fair Trial. Life in prison. Escape and disappear. The list for where Dudus should go next goes on and on.

On a lighter note, the tambourines look festively cultural. Perfect for the youngins' to shake at the Cultural Day Fundraiser that is happening in October. The kids thoroughly enjoyed making them too. First they colored on the Styrofoam then they glued feathers and pom balls all over them. Foreseeing the feather placement on the middle part, Akheel only colored on the outside ring of his bowl. Jamani picked a solid two colors and went to town on his blank canvas's... before tearing them into little pieces fascinated by noise Styrofoam makes when it breaks apart.  And Joshua made beautiful stripes of every color on his bowl... modeling the rainbow that they learned about a couple weeks ago. To each his own right?

I love how the personalities of the children come out when they do art. The color of a feather, what seems neither here nor there to me, is vitally important to them. They not only want a feather. But a green feather. That is not stiff but soft and fuzzy. And they don't want it there, they want it there. Or if your Jamani, you want it, then you don't want it, then you want it again, then you don't.

Later in the afternoon, Tiff and Aunt Gill passed by to check out Marigold and see how they could help. I don't lie when I say they are the most handy duo you could ever run into. Both artists and business women, they have both the bark and the bite to turn Marigold upside down. haha just kidding, but really they will be of HUGE help once the kids leave. Specifically referring to the things that Elin and I have ZERO knowledge about (sanding, repairing cribs, murals etc etc etc). Noticing the wild forest of weeds festering in the backyard, Aunt Gill learned the weed wacker was broken and about how the gardener was cutting the grass manually with his machete. So Tiff and her threw the weed wacker into the trunk to be repaired. Picture me pushing the "that was easy button." (Audio and all)

Now about Elin and I. Wednesday night we were feeling an hour and a half shakti yoga session after a another fun-filled yet exhaustive day. We arrive at the studio 5 minutes too late. There were mats from wall to wall. So instead of taking advantage of the fact that we were already at the gym, we decided to go see Toy Story 3! Yoga mats included. All while enjoying sour gummy worms, butter filled popcorn, rasinets, and gummy bears. AND it was in 3D. Lucky day..I know. I could not have pictured a better night. In the middle of the movie, the film cut out, screen went black and lights came on. Elin looked fear stricken and confused. Intermission! Jamaican movie theaters, along with playing the national anthem before each movie, has a 20 minute long intermission directing you to the snack bar. Never quite realized how peculiar that is until sitting through a full movie sin intermission. Once we got home, we whipped together some fresh veggies and cabbage and made stir fry to accompany sushi and miso soup. Pure bliss.

We are living out the best summer of our lives. And relishing in every minute of it.

Thursday. If the contents on a messy t-shirt were a popular betting practice, today between the two of us we hit the trifecta: by 2:00pm we had throw up, urine, and diarrhea on our shirts. Winna winna chicken dinna! score. jackpot. Elin walked straight through the apartment doors and into her shower this afternoon.

Today Ms. Williams brought Elin and I to tears. I do not want to write out what she told those children. Or even attempt to. But I will tell you this. It was everything you would say to a group of 5-7 year olds who you might never see again. It was everything you would say to a group of 5-7 year olds who will soon have the choice of a straight road or a jagged one. It was everything you would say to a group of 5-7 year olds to make them fight to be the good guys. 40 years of raw wisdom. That is what she said to the group of 5-7 year olds that will leaving Marigold tomorrow afternoon. A group whom for all she knows, will never see again. Reality has set in. These 5 weeks have been all we have had. All we will ever had. I hope they have learned kindness, love and compassion. I hope they learned Something. Anything. One thing from me that will help them one day or make them a better person. All I can do is pray that I've made a difference. As Janeel lay fast asleep on my chest, I quietly wiped my tears into the back of her shirt.

as always,

tkm

what do peanut butter, a lost tooth, and powertools have in common?

Today, I was greeted by Ms. Davidson with the words "come Friday, it will be you and I and Elin, just us three."

We received word that all of the children will be transferred by Friday. Last week we lost three. Yesterday we lost one. Today we lost two more. In the coming days, more and more children will be quietly taken by different homes in the Kingston area pending repairs on the roof at Marigold.

The environment lately has been one painted with uncertainty and tension as the jobs of many of these caregivers remain unknown. The repairs on the buildings will take up to 2 weeks, during which time dangerous conditions mean no children. No children means no caregivers. The tension is tangible. And as more and more children leave, the caregivers become exponentially more restless and unsettled. Since Marigold is a place of safety, the chances of all 36 children returning are slim to none. Further than that, the chances of 36 new children needing a place of safety is even slimmer. So for the time being, we focus on the moment. Because the present moment is all we have with these children until they move to different homes in Kingston. Most moving forward to places that hold promise of a better life. So we acknowledge our wants and set them aside. We fill ourselves up with love, understanding, laughter, and smiles. And like a balloon that is stretched to the last fiber, we let go of the nozzle and let it all rain down on the children and caregivers at Marigold.

It was a hard day. After having food poisoning this weekend, I went to work with an empty stomach and a dizzy mind. Nauseous and achy, I fought through the hours of the day, time moving as slow as viscous condensed milk. My unbalanced body paralleling the environment at Marigold. But it was peppered with joyful moments that kept me putting one foot in front of the other.

1. This morning we had the toddlers again as the older children were testing so we made play doe out of powdered sugar, peanut butter and honey (who knew? oh Elin of course). What started as a fun art lesson quickly turned into The Akheel Cooking Show as the babes ran around stuffing their faces with peanut butter candy and in the middle of it all Akheel made dumplings, potatoes, bananas, and mangoes. It was delightful to say the least :) A huge huge mess, but lets be honest whats life without a little mess?

2. Jamani has been adopted! His adoptive parents came to meet him for the first time today, and it was truly wonderful to see them together. The parents were beaming with joy as they picked up their new son and he clung to them like a monkey. They made jokes and laughed with him and told him about his new life in a huge house with his own playground set. About how he has family is Canada, and how all his relatives simply can not wait to meet him. As he lay on his new daddy's shoulder, being put to sleep by the constant bobbing of his hips, Jamani looked like he was finally home.

3. Elin and I played the tooth fairy today! While on the way to Ocho Rios last week, Scheveron lost his front tooth!... and then gave it to Elin. Little did he know, Elin placed the tooth under her pillow and woke up this weekend with a candy bar! and a note! When we asked him if he wanted to eat his candy by himself or share it with his friends, he ran inside and gave a piece to everyone in class.

4. Christopher Dudus Coke has been captured! Nuff said. Elin and I turned on BBC World News today to see the headlines celebrating his extradition to the US.

lats av love,

tkm

"There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle." -Albert Einstein

just thought we'd let you see some of the joy we're talking about. just a typical afternoon on the veranda, full of laughter, funny noises, questionable snacks and happiness.

giving care

four weeks ago i boarded a plane in Atlanta, Georgia so excited to come to Jamaica. in my head i dreamt up all of these awesome images of our days we were going to spend in the school as teachers with new playground equipment outside and laughing children making art at their desks. i must say, they were beautiful sights. 

but real life is so much better. 

in these four weeks, my pre-formed notions of what i imagined this trip to be have been completely stripped away. i have been confronted with my own self-righteousness and become aware of how quick i am to judge. my heart has been broken, and i am still learning how to finger the cracks and soak in the lessons meant for me in the jagged edges rather than try to clumsily piece it back together myself. i am learning to appreciate how awesome a blessing it is to be wrong. i am learning to listen. four weeks ago i left expecting to be a teacher for the summer. little did i know that this summer, He wants me to be a student.

this week  has really marked the shift in my understanding of our time here. last Friday Tara and I had an awesome conversation with a very caring summer project director about our perceptions of Marigold. we talked about a lot of things, going over her concerns about our relationship with the workers and steps we can take to try to better understand life at Marigold. one thing that really stood out from the conversation was the (what seemed radical but now seems so obvious) motivation to find out why things are the way they are at Marigold. writing about this now is truly embarrassing because i have to realize that before that idea was offered, i really wasn't seeking that understanding at all. i was writing the reasoning myself for something i had just been introduced to. i was cowardly hiding behind what i wanted to be the cause of problems because i was scared that the truth might just be too much. i blamed the caregivers for the lack of love and many of the problems (putting soiled diapers back on the children, withholding water from them, pervasive anonymity) because it was easy. but i did not realize the blinders it bound to my eyes. i did not realize that in doing that, i not only sealed myself off to the caregivers, i blocked my chance at reaching genuine understanding of the hurt and suffering of Marigold. 

this week has been such a gift in that we have been blessed with more time to spend getting to know the caregivers. on monday i had some time to sit down with one of the teachers and talk about her perspective on the Marigold's school. i asked her what her greatest challenge is in trying to educate the children, and it was like a light turned on in her eyes. she glowed with passion telling me that she really hopes the older children could go to prep (elementary) school outside of Marigold. she said that her true vision with the school would be to have one class for 5 and 6-year olds and one class for 3 and 4-year olds. she wishes that the 2 year olds who now sit in on the classes could have their own space and time to work on their language and fine motor skills. she feels like she needs more space in the classroom and a copy machine so she would no longer have to hand-write worksheets for each of the nine older children she teaches every day. she sighed as she talked about her feelings of exhaustion and worry that the younger children are neglected because she is trying so hard "for the older children to just learn something" each day. it was absolutely heartbreaking to listen to this incredible woman who works so, so hard everyday, trying to teach 18 children ranging in age from 2 to 7 in four hours with only one other teacher to help. she yearns to truly educate the children. she has the passion and the knowledge and the desire to work wonders in the minds of the precious children of Marigold. she just has her own substantial barriers. she does not have access to what she needs to make her dreams come true. but she can do it. she is a strong, motivated, beautifully-spirited woman, and she can do it. but it is our turn to carry her burden. we can help make her hopes a reality. and understanding this has been such a gift this week.

in our initial conversations with the caregivers (when we first arrived), many of the needs they identified were largely physical-diapers, a refrigerator, benches for the dining room table. and i let this be the end of their expressed need. but in spending time in conversation with them this week, the cravings of their hearts have come to light. Ms. Mattis in the kitchen took my hands in hers the other day and asked me if i will have a phone she can call me on when i return home in july. Ms. Henry asked where we got the photo paper to print the children's pictures on. Ms. Davidson carefully kept the welled-up tears in her eyes as she told us about the children leaving next week. she nodded her head heavily telling us that when Raymond leaves, he will be leaving his home of six years behind. we're getting to be real with them. 

one of the coolest things that happened with the caregivers this week was the time that we spent taking their pictures. when we were working on the wall of the children's pictures, many of the caregivers asked if they would have one as well. so, yea! we can do that. after about five caregivers emphasizing that they do not want their pictures hung and that the caregivers who asked for that can have theirs hanging up alone, the pictures we took became just for them. and they absolutely lit up. Ms. Nelson got in front of the camera and shone--she posed, laughed, danced and let herself have fun in the middle of the day. 

Ms. Sutherland had me take her picture on both days that we were taking them because she looked too tired the first day and made sure i knew she meant it when she said that, "darling i am NOT that old!" Ms. Simms, a quiet woman who spends most of her time in the kitchen and doing laundry absolutely stole my heart while i was taking her picture. as we walked outside together i awkwardly lead her and tried to position her in the light so that she wouldn't be in the shadows without blinding her in the sun (i need more photography lessons). she stood under a mango tree and looked stoically into the camera, her gentle eyes intently focused behind her wire-rimmed oval glasses. her lined face shone in the mid-morning sun, glistening with hard work yet beautiful in the story each wrinkle tells. after i had taken a few, i showed her the pictures and she sighed looking at them: "is that all? can i have more?" of course, Ms. Simms, of course. we spent the next thirty minutes walking around the backyard of Marigold taking pictures together. never smiling, she maintained the same expression of such strength and solidarity. her expression told of her resilience. as she held a piece of chalk pretending to write on the board and tilted her head slightly with every click of the camera that she heard, my eyes filled with tears realizing how precious each picture was to her. when we looked through them together she got so embarrassed as i told her how beautiful she looked. i made silly comments trying to make her smile and she kindly played along with me until we found the picture she liked best.

it's of her standing next to the wall of the school. the powder blue of her apron makes the skin it rests against glow in the light and her cheek bones are pronounced. her glasses reflected the light outside as i took the picture and you can see me and the tree behind me (oops) on the lenses. her age shows in it, and it is stunning. the years she has spent laboring for the children are written on her face, telling stories of children coming and going, needing food and clean clothes. the love she has poured into them through these seemingly inconsequential and menial tasks has been her humble and unnoticed work. after looking at her pictures she asked for some with the children. she took one with Eric, Raymond, Jackie, Ronaldino and Ackeel all standing before her, and if you look closely, you can see the tiny muscles around her mouth working hard to maintain that stoic pose. they make her smile. 

and in this connection, these moments of learning that i've been able to spend with the caregivers and teachers, my heart has been challenged. i do this really weird and silly thing where i will actually repeat in my head "i love you Jackie. i love you Aryana. i love you Raymond." and go through the children i can think of when i get really tired while at Marigold to keep me going. and this week, i've realized that that is what the caregivers do everyday. maybe they don't repeat it like it's some weird meditation mantra, but their scrubbing the floor, their changing the sheets, their dealing with doo-doo, is their love. and no, it's not perfect, but who in the world am i to judge love? mine is not even close to being perfect. and maybe it's not in the form that i feel needs to be there. maybe kisses and hugs and piggy-back rides are left for volunteers. but when she thinks no one is watching, Ms. Brown carries Asheba into a bedroom and helps her learn to stand up. and Michael won't eat from anyone besides Ms. Nelson. and Ms. Weis knows that Kelina and Joshua love to dance in the afternoon to music on the veranda, so every day she plays it for them. they love the kids. they see that there are challenges to be met at Marigold. they come to work, serve these children with humble hearts, go home to their own struggles, and return the next day. and i need to appreciate that. and i need to love them. 

and realizing that i need to love them too has been hard (embarrassing confession #534 for this post). this week i've been so humbled by reminders of the importance of universally loving others.  seeking perspective, i listened to a sermon podcast yesterday that spoke of the role of service in our lives. the pastor walked through Matthew 20:20-28 and spoke of the importance of making ourselves not just subservient to others but indentured servants to others, vessels that yearn to spring leaks and pour into the hearts of others. 

 "Not so with you. Instead, whoever wants to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wants to be first must be your slave— just as the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many." Matthew 20: 26-28

the brokenness in my heart that the past few weeks have created has rocked me into awareness of my need to give up. i need to give up my plans, my constructed purposes, my expectations and desires. i need to give these up because i am not enough. i cannot completely mend the hearts of Marigold. i cannot take away the hurt that permeates it. i cannot end the suffering that we have become so aware of. but i can love them. i can love the children and the caregivers and the directors and the gardener and Tara and the taxi drivers who take us there and the men and women who sell us fruit on the street and Brother John who sells newspapers outside the US Embassy. and this love can look like anything, just as the caregivers' does. but it has to be real. and i am slowly learning that my love is going to be my gift. it is not going to be enough, but it will be something. maybe a remembered smile or shared laugh will keep Ms. Mattis going on an especially humid day in September when the kitchen fan doesn't work. who knows. i am not enough. all i can do is try to love. but He is enough. He is love. and i am so, so grateful i was wrong.

promise i'll talk about the kids next time. i know they're more fun:)

i really love you,

eeb

"Rockstone ina deh riva bottam noh no' deh sun hot." -Jamaican Proverb

I have began to see things through a different perspective this week. 

I shall try to explain.

Going through school and making the choices to be involved in what I did, I have become heavily results driven. Taught through school how to analyze, think critically, evaluate situations and form definitive conclusions. A concise yet multi-dimensional decision about occurrences, people, and places in life. In other words, words less favorable: I have been taught how to speed read life, and in many cases make snap judgments out of the desire for fast-paced efficiency. The culture of traditional school lies in the degree of functionality of the institution through rankings. Rankings based on complex multi-faceted evaluations. Evaluations through tests. The repeated testing of the students, the push to meet the standard. The pressure to succeed and the negative connotation that surrounds the word failure. A results driven society is formed by a results driven culture and leads to results driven people who in turn perpetuate this cycle. We as a society, are always looking for the right answer. In the SAT, the ACT, the high school exit exam, every test administered from Kindergarten until 12th grade and beyond, is looking for the right answer. When was the last time you took a test, directions reading "circle all the wrong answers." Very infrequently are we searching for the wrong ones answers; realizing that through the process of elimination there will nothing but the right answer left. That is exactly what I have been learning this week. I have been circling the wrong answers, with the hope that one day, not too far from now I will be left with nothing but the golden nugget. A small nugget of truth, a right answer. The answer to a small one-worded question: why?

What I am trying to get at with this quite circuitous insight into the foundations of the education system, is to explore why I am the way that I am. Why is it that after a week of observing Marigold, I thought I had it all figured out? I thought I knew why people did what they did. I thought I knew how I could help, how I could organize this, arrange that, label this, take out that, add this.. and wa-la! FIXED. But I was sorely mistaken. Boy, I have never been so wrong about anything in my life. Because Marigold is not broken. There is absolutely nothing to fix. It is a well-oiled machine. It functions and it functions well. The children are fed and bathed three times a day. And it allows Leish to stick her face in the mud, and then jump in the puddles as hard as she can. And it allows Janeel to rub chalk all over her receding hairline and cheeks without one word from anyone. And it allows Jamaners to tear his mango into pieces in a matter of seconds as the juice flows freely down his face and mysteriously flows against gravity to his forehead. Within the hour there is a collection of mystery objects sticking all over him. These children are cared for. They are loved They don't need me. They don't need us at all. We are just the bar cherry. Just an extra bite of gooey goodness. We make things a little bit easier, in the only way we know to- we just be. We just be who we are and that's all we can do.

This week has been about letting go of my preconceived notions (no matter how many times I thought I lad let go of them already) and seeing things through a different perspective. The perspective of abundance, of compassion, of love, of community, of family, of unity. As I shift my perspective on Marigold, I begin to see things which previously were in blind spots. I begin to see the importance of focusing on every facet that makes up Marigold in addition to the children. I sat myself down and tried to put myself in the shoes of the caregivers.

Initially, I thought I would never get along with these people. Many of their actions regarding the children and disciplining is a tangible symptom of the Jamaican culture. Walking into a situation like Marigold the easy way out is to side with the children. To make it team children versus team caregivers, but this simply is not the case. This week has marked a catalytic shift in the way that Elin and I spend our time at Marigold. A shift shown in taking an active interest in not only the children, but the caregivers. A shift shown through setting aside time each day to talk to people, to ask questions, to try to understand why, understand how, to get background. These caregivers love these children as if they are their own. Many of them joke about their "daughters and sons" in Marigold. They are strong women who have children of their own at home, in addition to the daily worries that comes with living in the places that some of them do. When the barricades went up in Tivoli and Kingston had issued a state of emergency, 3 workers were unable to reach work for that week of guerrilla warfare.

On Thursday, I was working on a project for the schoolroom in the main building when I got called outside by Raymond. The field trip to Dolphin Cove was on Friday, so Ms. Williams decided to braid and bead all the girl's hair and needed Elin and I's help. Before going inside to school, I sat with my legs open under the tree and kids jumped like grasshoppers in and out of my lap. Firs Janeel, then Jamani, then Jahrine, then Raymond.

Finally Akheel sat on my right leg and looked at me. Once another child tried to sit on the other leg he said "dis my tara deh." with the biggest smile I have ever seen. I wanted to melt away into the ground and take him with me.

Bimbola crawled on all fours to me. Muscular dystrophy, what an cruel and unfair disease. Robbing him of his muscles one by one. Subjecting him to painful cuts and bruises on his knees, elbows and arms. He wails and wails when he has lost control of his urinary muscles and wets himself on a daily  basis. He hangs his head low when this happens, but we do the best we can to joke and make him smile while getting him cleaned up. This week, he cried because he had to put his books away. What a special boy. So bright and smart. From our paper mache solar system lesson, he remembered that a) Jupiter was red b) Earth is the only planet with water 3) Uranus is made out of gas d) we orbit around the sun. What a gem. He touches my heart. On Friday at Dolphin Cove, only half the park was wheelchair friendly, so Ms. Williams carried him on her back through the whole trail to see the animals. If that is not love, then I do not know what is..

What a unique week. In addition to shifting our focus, we also acted as interim pre-k teachers for the 1-3 year olds as the older kids were being tested. It stood as a testament to the trust that the teachers have grown to have for us. Putting us in charge of 10+ toddlers for 4 hours! Elin and I had plenty of flexibility with what to fill the time with. We chose arts and crafts, reading circles, and chalk.

We did Tye Dye (or TYE n DYE as the Jamaican's call it). Neither Elin nor I had done it since we were little, so it took a team effort when figuring out how much water and the twisting/folding of the t-shirts. The workers were an immense help, and many even made shirts with the children. The t-shirts were used for the field trip to dolphin cove on Friday, and will be used for the Jamaica Cultural day in August.

Anna left on Monday. It was a sad sad sad really rough day. I never realized how much time I spent with her on a day-to day basis. I would always look forward to 10:30 right after nap time, to come scoop her up out of her crib and illegally feed her banana chips and 100 calorie oreo snacks. Even though she is gone, I see her face every day. Not only in my mind, but this gorgeous photo (compliments to Elizabeth, taken the Sunday before she left) is my new desktop background. I hope I'll get to see her again someday, I know she is living abroad with her adoptive family. I couldn't of asked for more. Because if they didn't take her, I would of been begging mama mull to take in another rascal.

SALSA. is so much fun! On Thursday, Elin and I took our first Salsa class. 3 hours dancing learning the basic steps to the salsa and the cha-cha. I felt like I had been transported to Barcelona, and I loved every second of it. By the end of this journey, Elin and I will be professional diaper changers, baby feeders, cooks, arts and craft connoisseurs and salsa dancers!

Next week, we are losing at least 12 children. They are starting to phase the children out to different homes in Kingston in preparation for the repairs to be made on the roof. Most of the children leaving will be the eldest.. including Raymond, who has been at Marigold since he was in the nursery. The thought of losing 12 children is incredibly intimidating, scary, and sad. I am so attached to these kids. How will I be able to say goodbye? knowing they will be leaving and not coming back. I will jump that hurdle when it comes. I will lean on the workers for support and guidance. They at the end of the day will be there when the children move fluidly in and out. I am so grateful we were able to take them to see iguanas, sharks, dolphins, and to swim in the beach.

On that note, I cannot believe it has been a month since we arrived in Kingston. 4 weeks! What?! When did that happen. Time flies. I thought it would be good to sum up what we have done so far, and what we hope to do in the next month.

MidPOINT!

Over the last four weeks we have:

• Sent diaper solicitation letters to all the major diaper brands
• Reorganized the closet space and created a system that works for organizing the clothes
• Been teaching through arts and crafts
• Created the Hand wall on the back of the school
• Purchased ceiling fans for the nursery room
• Taken a field trip to dolphin cove
• Raised over 1,000 US!
• Thrown a birthday party for the Children

Over the next four weeks we hope to:

• Purchase new playground equipment and large refrigerator
• Solicit the Child Development Agency for a third teacher (pre-k age)
• Put together an arts and craft booklet with easy lessons + crafts using what they already have
• Have a Yardsale, using the donations they have received over the years to make money to pump back into Marigold
• Light the Fire Day: A clean up day in conjunction with the New generations club and Rotaract club of Kingston where crib will be repaired and rooms will be painted
• Partner with a Local Interact Club to volunteer weekly at Marigold over the course of the school year, starting with this summer.
• Staff Appreciation Day/Weeks
• Plant a Garden in conjunction with the children filled with Marigolds, sunflowers, and fruits and vegetables.

Inject love and compassion into the roots of the tree for the leaves to grow.

keep it irie,

tkm

p.s. the Jamaican proverb translated means

If you are in a
sheltered situation,
you don't know what
hardship is.

Instead of this say that

A tribute to patois: 

ON say PON
EW say LAUDE
CHILD/BABY say PICKNI
COOL say WICKED
I'M GOING say A-GO
OWW say HUSH HUSH
WHATS UP say WHA-AH- GWAN
ANGRY say VEX
BOTTOM or BUT say BATTY
BROTHER say BRUDDAH or BREHDRIN
A BAD WORD say BUMBACLAAT
HERE say HUR SOH
HEAR say EAR
THANK YOU/YOUR WELCOME say AIGHT
LEAVE say GWAN
HIT say LICK
HOOK UP say LINK UP
PLENTY/MORE say NUFF
MESSY say RAGGAMUFFIN
YOU say UNUH
WATER say WATA
ON MY WAY say SOON COME
NICE/RIGHT/COOL/RESPECT/CHILL say IRIE

"If you carry your childhood with you, you never become older." - Abraham Sutzkever

My new best friend is a two year old. She speaks to me I swear, but no one else can hear her or believes she can say anything other than "mama." Elin and I were in the newspaper. An immense amount of community support. Calls, Emails, Facebook, it is amazing how many people have heard about what we are doing at Marigold this summer. We are blessed to have such loving encouragement.

On Friday we slept in! (By slept in I mean woke up at 8). Elin baked fresh banana bread cupcakes which were delicious. We spent the morning at Shakti and then went over to Marigold later in the afternoon because there was a special treat planned in the afternoon.. A birthday party for all the children, with party hats, cupcakes with their initials on it, a bounce a-bout, Mothers donated patties, fruit punch, and a free afternoon to play and roam and explore. A birthday party I would never put a price tag on because it was a memory I will hold onto for the rest of my existence. My favorite part of the afternoon was watching the young toddlers enter a bounce a-bout... many their first time. In the beginning, they cried and cried and cried, fearful of this new world that was unsteady and unsure underneath their small feet. One got the hang of it, and soon there were 20 toddlers in a tangle of limbs, crashing into one another. Janeel ran around in circles until she saw someone watching her, then she would roll head first into the cracks of the bounce a-bout and scream with delight once she saw you still watching. Jamani jumped from 5 feet away into my lap, crashing down on my thighs and laughing uncontrollably. Only to do it again and again until Anna sat herself down right in between my lap and let the waves from the other children entertain her senses. It was a vibrant environment, electrified by the freedom of the afternoon.

The children were able to do anything they wanted this afternoon and not be told how to do it, where to do it, or even why. They ran in circles. They used the swings. They colored with crayons on the desks instead of on their party hats. They made 4 party hats instead of one. For supper, they ate the cupcake first, simply because they could choose. and then they ate cake. and then pineapple orange sorbet in cones. and they had 5 cups of fruit punch instead of one. and we loved them for it. I loved them for it, and in turn marinated them in hugs and kisses. I loved the workers for letting them be, and for swinging them in the air, and for carrying the babies from the nursery and holding them in the bounce a-bout. I loved mrs. grant for taking me into a room with 4 other ladies and blessing me for my birthday with a hand on my head and a hand on my heart. While she held me, the other women encircled me hand-in-hand praying for me, protecting me. Praying for my health and for my prosperity, for a shield from evil, and the gift of love and safety.

Today we gave the children the gift of fun. The gift of being a kid. One puzzle piece out of a 1,000 puzzle piece set called childhood. And in exchange I got to celebrate my birthday with my 37 best friends here. So what if they are all under 8?

I walked out of Marigold that day slathered in love, doused in compassion and exuding generosity. Hearing the children wish me happy birthday over and over and over again pulled at my heart strings as in return I wished them a happy birthday, and fed them a bite of their cupcake, and gave them rides on my back. There was nothing I wanted more than that afternoon to be about them. I have been lucky enough to have 18 birthday parties; They have had one.

After eating sushi, catching up with old friends; making new friends, and dancing the night away, it was time for the annual Ferry field trip. A trip taken with the school aged children of the Ferry community to a mystery location to reward them for attending school. I could think of no better way to spend my actual birthday on an adventure with 60 children to the beach. We drove up to ocho rios to dunns river falls, a park filled with attractions; the main two being the ability to scale up a waterfall and the second to be by the beach! So we did both, and enjoyed every moment of it. In the heat of the afternoon, I took a walk down the beach and settled at the end by a busted up pier to extend my legs out and lay on my back as the refreshing Jamaican ocean water lapped around me. Taking a savasana in the middle of the day, I practiced stillness. I was acutely reminded of the Hawthorne quote about happiness.

“Happiness is like a butterfly which, when pursued, is always beyond our grasp, but, if you will sit down quietly, may alight upon you.”

 

And the butterfly alighted.  

 

I felt so content and peaceful. So grateful for the opportunity to be in Jamaica on my birthday, and to be able to celebrate it with 60 strangers who knew as much about me as I did them- close to nothing. It was unconventional to say the least, a once in a lifetime opportunity. I leaped into it uncensored, with no preconceived notions or expectations, heart first, head second, two feet in: literally. 

 

I spent the rest of the afternoon traversing up and down the waterfalls with the help of my 6 new friends. Ochi locals who took me in for the afternoon, pulling me up the waterfall as we all sang justin bieber songs acapella and danced. The coolest part of the waterfall is that its broken up into 4 huge chunks, so you start at the bottom on the beach, and work your way up, pausing in between to wade in shallow pools, an hour journey or so. Once we reached the top, I waded over to mother nature's massage chair (a smooth inlet of rock) and let the heavy crashing water pound down on my sore muscles relieving all the tension that has been building up in my neck and shoulders since this journey began.

 

Driving back on the bus, I listened to prepubescent voices singing "i wanna make love right na na na" as Alex wrote a love letter to Jessica, and as I had a hand resting on my shoulder for the 2 hour drive back to Kingston. An 11 year old sang love songs to me in my ear and whenever I turned around to inquire about his raising singing voice he looked at me and smiled, and kept on singing anyways. I became incisively aware of the human experience. Of the global nature of it all. It sounds so ironic, but how international the world is. How the raw experiences of love, of curiosity, of that fuzzy gray line between childhood and adulthood transcends all man-made lines in the sand. We are all the same. We achieve. we make mistakes. we feel sadness.. we smile anyways. We fall in love, and then we get our hearts broken. But we pick up the pieces and try again, because we crave that association, that gift to become so close to another human being. To thrive through relationships, to struggle through relationships, to become molded by the people you surround yourself with. After Alex finished his letter to Jessica, he pulled out two more sheets of paper and wrote one to Caroline. Boys will be boys.

On Sunday, we went out to Maiden Cay with friends to the beach. It was a gorgeous day out, the water was crystal blue and the temperature of bath water. I floated in the water for hours until the things sticking out of of my hand looked less like fingers, and more like prunes. The weekend ended perfectly, at Auntie Odette's house for the last birthday dinner. We had lasagna, rice and peas, and ox tail. (yes, you heard me right, OX tail.. on Elin's request). I took a bite just to say I tried it, but cows tail is not my forté. Best part was the dessert. My favorite of all time: strawberry shortcake.

Looking forward to this week and what it brings. Soaking up the love! and then squeezing it out on the kids and workers at Marigold :)

keep it irie, 

for rill,

tkm