Bird Bath_5th Dec, 2007

bird bath

"if you could be a bird what kind would you be?"

"peacock," i answered.

he seemed surprised. "really? strange bird. that is funny. i would be a dove. you know why? because they are pure and white. and they also symbolize love. you know, a woman once told me that angels are white. i think i believe her."

i had met this man one other time. he was forward with what he felt to be true. he still is. i spoke with him two days ago. he sounded awful. raspy and weak, but still about to begin his work day. they needed him, as they have been short staffed and the children do not teach themselves. he never complains. he tried to reassure me that he would be okay. he has had malaria for a week and was trying to make me feel better!

"promise me that you will take their medicine if you cannot get yours. i think you are too weak to travel 10 hours to find your tree."

"okay, if i must. i will promise you, but i do not trust their medicine in my body. it is a balance with malaria and my medicine."

he has had malaria more times than i want to think about. he recently moved away from home for work. his traditional medicine is made of the wormwood tree but it does not grow in this new home.

my medicine man is fading and i fear he is not using good judgement. this dove is dying, i fear. somewhere in me i found the ability to blame myself...a skill i acquired when i was very young. if i had never met him he would not be away from his medicine. i look further and i find the ability to recognize that he made me better. i remember before i traveled to africa. i recall how sad i was all of the time. i remember looking for something positive in myself. i found a fragment, but even that felt selfish.

i thought, "am i really doing this for the people of africa or am i doing this for myself? myself. fuck i am selfish. i hate my life and i am looking for an escape." standing next to him the fragment felt swelled. my escape had turned into my life. he forced me to recognize that i am good. i admitted to him how scared i am of myself. he told me that i am the bravest woman he had ever met. he told me that women are already stronger than men by nature.

memories like this flood in. but this is worse than a flood. it is a hurricane in my brain as i feel i am reliving my short-lived attempt at pure love. my eyes are puffy from three days of tears. i take my warm shower in my american bathtub which is bigger than his whole bathroom. the water helps but it can't wash this away. i notice i have gotten thin and a memory comes to me. before i really knew him he walked me home one day. i was having a bad day and told him i may not be able to eat my dinner. "if you were my woman you would never miss a meal." before i really knew him, he knew. he knew that i would be his woman. his dreams flooded his brain like hurricanes. i also had had a dream about him after we first met. we were running together away from people who were trying to keep us apart. we had matching bags. i woke exhausted and confused and with a crush. i barely knew who i was dreaming about. i went about my day spent from my restless dream-running. later that same day he told me that he had heard i was extending my stay in tanzania.

"no. who told you that?" i responded.

i could see him trying to remember and then a look of embarrassment came over him.

"oh my god. my dream told me. i am sorry."

he then asked me to look at his sketchbook. there were pages and pages of contour perspective drawings. i looked and told him,

"this is what i taught in my class this morning. how did you do all of this already?"

" also my dream. i woke very early this morning thinking about these images, so i just drew them," he replied. i was floored and my face was hot. two months later, i extended my stay in tanzania.

i return. the water becomes scalding hot. i assess the scars on my body. i think about how he may not see my new scar from hot coffee. it makes me sad. i wonder if he already knows about it. my powerful vision man. i wonder if he already knows what will happen to him. a month after we parted, i quit smoking for a short time. i spoke to him on the phone and he said to me "tell me something, have you quit smoking? i have had this dream..."

crying in the shower is good for you. you are stripped-down-basic and taking full advantage of what life is all about. water. it streams on me and out of my sad face. he has not answered his phone in nearly two days. the afternoon after we last spoke, i tried calling. another man answered his phone and said "i am sorry sista, kawaka is sleeping now. maybe try tomorrow?" immediately after hanging up i broke down. i am still down here. my feathers have fallen and my illuminant blues and greens are turning opaque. his feathers are dull and sad.

...my sick bird, i am feeling your pain. i got a cold the day you got malaria. when that was gone my cramps came. they surpassed their usual, single-agonizing day and lasted for three. if i could fly to you, i would. if i could take it away, i would.

where is my malaria? i stopped taking the preventative malaria medication when i was with you. i found out that it can make you ill if you take it for longer than three months. at four i was feeling awful. when i stopped taking the pills and never experienced one symptom of malaria you reminded me how strong i am. you told me that if i have not gotten it, i may be one of the lucky ones. "some people don't ever get malaria. the others get it many times over. that is me. you can take care of me when i am sick."

i hate this fucking bathroom. i am not supposed to be here. i am supposed to be taking care of him! i think to him from this fucking bathroom..."if you fly away, you better send me another messenger when the time is right. i will need someone to carry me because i will be a limp bird!" i think about my return trip in three months. it is coming so soon. if you have flown when i get there, it would be sad there. i would still go, but this time it would be all for you. i can smell tanzania now. the memories have been so intense over the last week, that i am no longer in this bathroom. i hardly remember landing in tanzania. i was so tired. i do remember waking the next day and thinking that it felt like home. i knew then that i would make it my home. when i later met you, i felt it was all to good to be true. i tried to keep my plans to return, a secret from you. i remember your excitement when someone slipped and told you. i was almost relieved that you knew. you now knew my intentions were good. you now knew that i was not there to lift you and then break your wings. if my return was not already planned, i would have left you alone from the beginning. but, birds are not meant to be alone. i am happy to have met you.