GASP, GASP TOO

     For a whole year Hanah lived in a house taken over by mold. All her clothes smelled like mold, her books turned green, and every glass surface was covered by watery residue. She and her roommates had to buy dehumidifiers to have minimally habitable conditions. I told her, as soon as I found out about it, that she should move, but everything else for rent was too expensive. She moved just half a month ago before coming home for a vacation. 

     Now she told me that she has moments when she can not breathe. She coughs without having any cold symptoms too. It was time to take her to doctor!

     Today I did it. We went together, but at the clinic she decided that she should go into the office by herself. She is a big girl: I didn't dare to object.

     She found me after the appointment. I asked, what the doctor said. "Asthma" - she answered.

     "Asthma?! How could this be?!" I was stuttering from shock. Asthma is a big deal, right? She only said: "The adult onset."

     We got her the medicine and went home. On the way, all these questions began to swim round and round in my mind. The doctor prescribed her a usual for the asthmatics medication with steroid in it. I would not object to it too much if I was sure of the diagnosis. But the doc didn't even send her to the x-ray or to do any other tests. What if she doesn't have asthma? What if she'll take these meds, that mess up one's system and make one fat, for nothing? And all the while, the mold in her lungs will grow and take over! 

     The longer I think about it, the more I worry. 

     Taka came home, and I told him about asthma. "I wish, I could get another opinion or something!"

Taka answered my doubts through the food in his mouth: "Zhen, get it! Bether yet, why don't you ashk to see a lung shpecialisht?"

     This is one of a few times that I am grateful to be married to him! 

Kitten Tries Waking Up His Kitten Friend

SHELTER

    

     Midori doesn't like the newcomers. They aren't crazy about her either. As soon as an unaware soldier shows up anywhere near her, we hear blood-curdling growling and some mighty cursing. Amur and Dular know Russian and they have a ball listening to Sawanni's men's colorful language, but today they took Midori to the forest, told her not to attack any soldiers and sent her off. She slunk away, but I am sure, she stays close by to keep her eye on us.

     Sawanni is in a foul mood. He disappears in taiga for hours and when he is around, barks at his underlings and invents new chores for them. So far, all of them stay in the village, and we don't see them doing anything to evoke our fears. I am watching and waiting. 
     If Joon's and Anita's work is ever tested, it is now. I see the sternest of mercenaries give in to the pangs of their consciences and exhibit it in a variety of ways. Men talk among themselves, thinking of their families and the impact the wars had on them, comparing my children to their own or brothers and sisters left behind in  far away lands. They shut up as soon as they see Sawanni, but their resolve against doing what they came here to do is growing. 
     Tonight I hear Sawanni online with someone in command center. He insists, there are circumstances here that need to be investigated before taking action, but his superiors yell at him to just do what he was ordered to do. "Yes, sir!" - he replies and breaks the connection. 
     He comes out of the room and sees me. His expression is glum and doesn't bode well for any of us.
     At night there is a big commotion in the room next to ours: a lot of shouting and stomping of the boots. I dress and go to see what happened. As I peek into Sawanni's quarters, an unexpected sight freezes me on the spot: Sawanni is sitting at the table, glowering at all seven of his soldiers who have their weapons trained on him!
     They glance my way, and Sawanni springs into action. He knocks two of them down immediately, then grabs a gun and points it at the rest of them. 
- "Put your weapons down!" - he growls.
- "Sir, no sir! We will not let you sterilize this place!"
- "Do you want to die instead of these people?!"
- "Captain, don't you think that we've done enough? Where will it end?"
- "Put your weapons down!"

     Suddenly, howls erupt all around our village. Men yell and run. A soldier who is, obviously, a chosen leader, nods to another one to go and investigate. I follow him.  We see red eyes in the foilege of the trees all around the village. Howls go on and on, the village's and the Evenks' dogs answer them and yip and bark in confusion. 
     Sawanni comes out of the house with a gun in his hands. He, apparently, won the argument. 

To Be Continued...

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GASP, GASP!

   

   I got up at 5-something in the morning. Ideas for Shelter brewed and fizzed in my head. I typed and thought and typed some more, until the story was finished for this day, at least. It took me some time to understand that I was tremendously tired. To bed, then! 
- "What time is it?" - I asked my husband when I woke up.
- "Ten." - he replied.
     Everything was quiet in the house. I went to look in on Roberta and found her alone, sitting on her bed, watching a football game. She, to my amazement, is a sports' buff and can't live without them. I was still so drowsy from sleep that I didn't check her blood pressure or do our morning routine for another half an hour or so. 
     There was nothing going on, kids were asleep, Taka worked. I began to make a brunch and bake a cake from a box. God bless someone, who invented the cake mixes!
- "Dina, Dina!" - I thought that I heard my name called, but because of the loud fan in the kitchen I wasn't sure. Here it was again! I ran to Roberta's room and found her gasping for breath! "I can't breathe!" - she said. 

     That was a stuff of my nightmares. I raised the head of her bed and began to dig for Nitroglycerin left over from my dad. One tiny bottle was empty, another - empty. Finally, there was a sound of little pills rattling in the third bottle. I gave one to Roberta. She lay there - very limp. I checked her blood pressure again: it was not too bad. She began to breathe easier. I hovered over her, feeling helpless to aid her. 
     What was I to do? She felt better. Should I call the ambulance? Take her to the Emergency Room myself? Wait and see if the shortness of breath will return and then take action? 
     She told me that we should wait and see. All day I've been checking up on her, but there was no more troubling symptoms.
     I am still listening to the sounds from her room. Park is back from wherever he went, but it doesn't make me feel better. He would try to fix her condition without telling me about it and he is an idiot when it comes to medicine!
     

SHELTER

     

Soldiers... They walked into my house and it immediately began to look like somebody else's. Even though they made an effort to be polite, things still got messed up and broken. The floors were hopelessly muddied; a few men started to disrobe in the front yard to wash up after the long trek. I had to stop another from chasing after chickens. I will make supper to retain control over the house and the kitchen.

     Captain Sawanni and I had to talk. He appropriated the biggest room and spread maps and gadgets over the table. I came in and stood silently, until he could afford to pay some attention for me.

     "Maam, we are grateful for the roof over our heads, but you need to stay away from this room. I need to be able to work with my men here."
     I simply informed Captain that there was a meal available outside in the yard and left.
     I called my boys and gave them instructions. As the soldiers filed into the yard, I observed them from a kitchen's window. They were a mixed group: I recognized Russian and, similar to it, Croat, languages; the Black men kept apart from others, they were from some African countries, as was their Captain. They didn't look like regular army, there was more watchfulness to them - they were, probably, a band of mercenaries used as a private force.
     Amur and Dular began to hand out the bowls of stew to our visitors, in the Evenk fashion sweeping their hands with their own in a gesture of hospitality. Some of our occupants smiled and ruffled their hair, some ignored them and quickly fell to eating. 
     The Captain came out into the yard, and Dular brought him his meal, also bowing and sweeping the big man's hands with his own. Sawanni managed a grimace that passed for a smile, took a piece of our homemade bread in one huge paw and began to eat. 
     Boys slept in my room. Most of the house was taken over by the soldiers.
     In the middle of the night I heard voices outside my window. I leaned to the wall so that they wouldn't hear me and listened in:
     - "Beautiful country! What a shame!"
     - "Yeah, there won't be much left around here after we are through!"
     - "That family is nice too. I hate what we are about to do to them!"
     - "Shh, the Captain will hear you. What can we do, anyway? Orders are orders!"
     - "I have my own mind! Orders or not - I don't have to like this mission!"
     They extinguished their cigarettes and went in. I looked outside: another man stood by the barn, smoking and listening. 
     I put some clothes on and went outside. Captain Sawanni was standing by the barn, a cigarette's point flaring and lighting his features for brief flashes.
     - "You are not asleep?" - he asked.
     - "Can you blame me?"
     - "No, you seem to be amazingly calm, though, considering the circumstances!"
     - "There's no point in being excitable. I am responsible for this community, after all."
     - "How did you happen to be here? I can tell, you are from another world."
     I told Captain that my ancestors settled here many years ago and mixed with the Evenks. Then I asked him, where he was from. He looked at me for some minutes without answering, as if some words were too difficult to push out. Then he explained how many years ago he was taken by the militants from his village in Sudan when he was just a teenager. He was beaten and abused in other ways and made fight and do terrible things to his own countrymen. When he could get away, there was no place for him to go, except to become a mercenary. 
     - "And now you are going to destroy my family?"
     - "Orders are orders!"
     He left. I made my way to the Evenks's yurts. The chief and the shaman were talking to the elders in one of them. They plied me with the questions, I was afraid to answer. There was no certainty in my mind, if we will be alive to see another week. 
     - "They are carrying poison with them! My men saw the containers with those bad pictures that you showed us before. What are we going to do?" 
     - "Don't attempt anything yet. I will talk to the Captain and try to assess the danger. Stay away from the soldiers!"
     Next morning brought trouble. As the mercenaries washed up and prepared for the day, Midori sneaked into our yard. A neighbor's dog began barking at her and attracted attention of our unwanted visitors. I ran to the sound of the voices raised in alarm and weapons being readied to fire. Midori, the red streaks under her eyes flushing angrily and the crest of red and blue upthrust and rattling on her green back, was snarling in the corner by the barn. Amur was trying to cover her with his body and shouting at the soldiers. His brother was also there, in front of the guns, sobbing and begging the men to stop.
     Captain's voice cut through the noise: "Halt! Lower your weapons! Then to me: "Maam, what kind of animal is this?! Is it dangerous? I mean, I can see that it's dangerous, but will it attack us?!"
     - "Not if you stop attacking her! She was raised by my sons, we trust her. Please, don't harm her!"
     Sawanni glowered at me, then ordered his men to stand down. Dular ran up and hugged him around the middle. I saw a tremendous internal struggle on the older man's face, as he looked down at the boy. Then he freed himself and strode away. 

To Be Continued...

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HOW DO I SAY IT? - RE-POST

 I've been listening to something that I can't translate into English. Maybe, there it is, - that Russian elusive soul, that even I forgot about while living in the comfortable, convenient West. I also bought into easy stereo-types and the explainable reality that, we think, exists over there, in that place on the map that was just recently colored pretty pale pink. 

V. Visotsky

     Vladimir Visotsky was far from an angelic personality. But I have a theory that, when God pours talent into someone, sometimes the vessel is too small to handle the terrible gift and responsibility. How many geniuses and idols act like they can't stand their lives? How many of them mistreat the closest family and associates? But when we listen to, watch, look at their creations, we forget all that. We are transformed into better people through their art, even if they are outright jerks.
     The song that moved me to write this is called... I can't even easily translate that! The White Bath - it's the closest, I think. He talks about the sauna-like bath, with steam and birch twigs tied together to whip your body softly to encourage good circulation.           You see, I am further now from the real reason, why that song tears at my heart so much!
    A man who asks the caretaker to prepare him a bath like that is, obviously, someone who just left the Soviet forced labor camp. He says: "For my unconditional faith, how many years have I been in that "heaven"?  I exchanged my limitless stupidity for this hopeless life." I am translating it loosely, to make it more possible to understand: "While swallowing tears, we tattooed Stalin's profile on the left side of our chests, so that he would hear how our hearts were breaking!" 
     A thought struck me that chilled me to the bone. I haven't been betrayed like that man in a song. Or have I? Didn't I spend thirty years believing and trusting someone that now seems to be a con-man, at best? Didn't I many times lay my health, safety, the very heart of me - on the line for that man? Limitless stupidity? I don't know. Maybe it was. Maybe we still did something good for the world. Maybe it's still ahead of me. 
     

     

HERI ZA KWANZAA!

     

Heri-za Kwanzaa! Happy Kwanzaa!
     Actually, it ended on January 1, but my family was invited to a last day's celebration in a friend's church. I've never been at one of these Holidays and didn't know, what to expect.
     As usual, I had to spread the word around, but only my children, Sonny and Hanah, and Evelyn, a lady from my church, made it there. The setting was quite humble, but the spirit was rich with joy and music.
     Kwanzaa is a seven day celebration of the family and individual virtues that should be and are central in every culture.was originated in 1967. At it's first ever observance, when it was called Kwanza (with one 'A'), seven children came out to say  something about each letter in that word. But there were only six letters! So, one more 'A' was added to honor the seventh child!  
     Every day of Kwanzaa celebrates a different virtue. On the last day it is Faith - Imani. The sanctuary was decorated with African hangings and figurines. In front stood a table covered with African Red, Green and Black flag. On it were objects central to Kwanzaa observance: a candlestick with seven red, green and black candles, which are lit one by one every day of the holiday; corn - symbol of fruitfulness or children ( in a family, they would have as many corns on the table as there are children in the family), presents, Zavadi, for everyone. A group of drummers  played a very lively and lovely tune on a variety of African drums. As we found out later, children among them were just kids from the audience: their participation was unrehearsed and voluntary.

Tacuma King

     The leader of the ceremony, Tacuma King, who has a group called Bay Area Youth Arts, and some other people told us about Kwanzaa. We heard more, but never enough, of music, tales and poetry. Tacuma King spoke at length of keeping the family respect and virtues through cultural observances. At one point he pointed at Hanah, who sat smack in the middle of the room and shouted: "Young lady, I love your nose!" My daughter is half-Japanese and has a Japanese nose. The man continued: "Your nose shows us that all life originated in Africa!" By then, my jaw was hanging open. I whispered to Hanah: "Is he really talking to you?" She said: "I think so!" Then I understood: the wide, flat Asian noses are very much like African noses! And even if I have a small, tall Jewish nose, my ancestors also come from the African continent! 
                                                                                                                                                                                                                  

Pastor Muhyee on the right with some friends
  Kwanzaa became even more  real to me then. We clapped and swayed and stomped to music and shouted "Ashe!" - yes! (I think) - to everything. At the end of the program, Pastor Mustafa Muhyee, dressed in a very smart dashiki, spoke briefly from the pulpit. He reminded us that our strength comes from God and from our cultures. Ashe!

     Lunch was delicious: a stew with okra and beans, corn bread, black eyed peas, chicken wings. Every family received a Zavadi - gift. All in all, we came away from Kwanzaa enriched in spirit and with full bellies, as well! Heri Za Kwanzaa!