Tuesday, January 28, 2020
Monday, January 27, 2020
Kobe Bryant
Kobe Bryant
Played against Stroudsburg His School
on March 16, 1996
Died January 26, 2020
I remember this game like it was yesterday. Our students played so well but they were no match for this giant of a player. After this game, we had no other choice but to sit out the rest of the season and watch him go on to win the state championship and then go professional and take the world by storm. RIP Kobe Bryant.
Al Schoch
March 16, 1996... Lower Merion 71, Stroudsburg 54. PIAA boy's basketball state quarterfinals at Martz Hall in Pottsville. Kobe scored 36 points against my high school alma mater.
Sunday, January 26, 2020
Greetings From Bangladesh
Greetings From Bangladesh
December 2019
A text message I received from an aquainence from Bangladesh. I was in the Philadelphia airport on my way to Bangladesh for 5 weeks and this is the message I received:
"First let me give you my local phone number 01749087740. However I am very bad with the phone so I have told Shahreen that you will call her if you do not get me and her phone number is 01730066767. she is also in WhatsApp. My US cell is 16105741746. You can Whatsapp me in that one as well, again I may or may not have it with me.
Looking at the address of the guest house, I think you will have a long drive to wherever you will be teaching. You told me you were in Nepal, Srilanka, India, etc. All those are places distinctive for their character and the first one is breathtakingly beautiful. Please be prepared for despairing disappointment for Bangladesh. If I didn't have to visit my only sibling, I doubt that i would've ever come here!
What time will you be arriving on Monday and when do you want me to contact you?
Looking forward to seeing you
Peace
Zakiya"
Zakiya"
Friday, January 24, 2020
I Will Stay Connected
I Will Stay Connected
WAFW
Dahaka, Bangladesh
A message on Facebook from one of my students. Who am I to be this lucky to have all of this good will?
Another good bye to a very cute human being with such a bold and lively laughter. I couldn’t make it yesterday but today the conversation we had widened my visions and made me appreciate to reflect back on what I need to do now 💝 your kind thoughts and words that you have said to me really touched deep down and tears fled; the support and inspiration you have given me I am highly grateful Bridget 💡 I will stay connected.
Wednesday, January 22, 2020
Marriage Hestitation
Marriage Hesitation
December 2019
University of Liberal Arts-Bangladesh (ULAB)
Dhaka, Bangladesh
We are stilling at a desk in a dank, small office on campus. He is enrolled in my program. I just met him yesterday. He comes from money and lets you know it. He's unloved and lets you know that as well. Out of nowhere he starts talking to me about the pressure he is feeling from his father.
"My father has given me two years to get married but I don't want to get married. I find younger women to get on my nerves. They are too immature". He speaks as if he is talking about a business dealing with his father.
"Why don't you marry an older woman?", I ask, thinking this might be a better choice for him, even though I think he is gay and not able to admit it or accept it.
"No, no, no. I can not do that", he tells as in a tone that lets me know that is a silly option.
"My options are people around my age but in this culture it is preferred that you marry someone younger. For example my aunts were 8 and 9 when they got married. They are in their 70s now and my uncles are in their late 80s. That's just how it is. Child brides."
He continues, "My father is now pressuring my cousins to pressure me. They say, 'brother, when are you going to married? Uncle is pressuring us get you married'. I told my father, 'Father, I like you but I do not love you but you are my father. I gave you my criteria for a bride. I am not interested in incest. Go with the criteria and I will go with what you want,' I told him. My cousin married my other cousin. Their child had some complications at birth and he still has complications. And my cousin, she was seeing someone else. So that is not good."
We are interrupted and the conversation changes. And much to my frustration, no matter how hard I try, I can not get him back on topic.
Monday, January 13, 2020
Saying Goodbye to My Mother
Saying Goodbye To My Mother
May 9, 1998
Bryn Mawr, PA
It was Thursday night and I have to head home. I live two hours away and have to be up early. So, I leave around 8PM. I kiss my mother on the top of her head and say, “I’ll see you tomorrow Mom and if not, I will see you in the next life.”
“I’ll be here tomorrow”, she says sadly and wearily. She is exhausted and ready to die but overwhelmed with guilt about the dark days ahead for the rest of us. The hospice nurse predicted that she would die last week. But she is hanging on by a thread. So, every day is a heavy blessing.
I call her in the morning, just to check in. My sister answers the phone and says that Mom could not speak to me.
“Is she asleep?” I ask.
“No, she can’t’ speak anymore”, my sister informs me.
I don’t comprehend exactly what she is trying to tell me. But I don’t have the courage or the energy to ask for more details.
So, after work, I drive two hours back to my mother’s house. She is confined to her hospital bed as she has been for the last 8 days. And when I see her, it is clear to me that the cancer has now gone to her brain and she has lost some functions: the ability to close her eyes, her speech and other muscle controls. She is in some sort of altered state, a semi-coma. One look at her and an avalanche of grief and panic surge through every nerve in my body. She has slipped so far away from us in just 20 hours. She senses that I am upset, and she takes my hand and kisses it repeatedly. I try to hold back the tears, but that is next to impossible. This is it. This is the end of her tiring four-year battle with cancer.
On Saturday morning, my sisters and I sit around her bed. Patricia, a nurse, takes her pulse. “It won’t be long”, she says with a stoic voice of professionalism. “We should get Dad.” She gets up and calls my father out of the bathroom where he is shaving.
“Dad, it will be any minute now.”
So, he calmly wipes the shaving cream off his face, and he joins us around the bed. There is no sound in the room, just silence and heavy, heavy anticipation.
I have thought of this moment so often in the last few months. My friends, who have been with a parent at death, have told me about the peacefulness of this looming moment. They talked about how grateful they were to have been at this moment when a parent takes that last breath. So, I sit here, waiting for the calmness. This is the moment when I surrender my mother to her death.
Patricia takes my mother’s pulse again and announces, “She’s gone.” She sobs and we sit in silence. The moment isn’t calm. I am not even sure when the moment of her death was. But it doesn’t matter now. It is over. I am filled with sadness, relief, bewilderment, disbelief and emptiness.
Someone calls the funeral director. We call other family members and we move around the house with heavy hearts. All of our actions and conversations are labored. We cry and then we regain our composure. We try to be positive. After all, we all saw this coming. And she is no longer suffering. So, we try to focus on this. But the loss is still too great.
The doorbell rings and it is two men from the funeral home. They are dressed in black suits. One of them has a body bag discreetly tucked under his arm. As they enter the house, they nod to all of us and we all nod back.
“Where we at?” one of them asks loudly, “we upstairs?” He is cracking gum. His loudness and poor grammar offend me. He is getting on my nerves. Or maybe I am just looking to fight with someone today and he is such an easy target.
“If you are referring to my mother” I say in an indignant voice, “She is upstairs” and I point to the steps. They start up the steps and I follow behind them. One of them stops and turns to me and says, “You’ll want to stay downstairs Miss. This isn’t nice to see.”
“No”, I tell him adamantly, “I’m coming up with you.”
We go into the bedroom and he lays the body bag on the floor. Both men look nervously at me. They are not sure if they should get started while I am still in the room. We come to a standstill. Finally, I break the silence. “I know this is your job. And she is not your mother, and you have to be indifferent in order to do your job. But this is my mother. And I am going to make sure she leaves her house with all the dignity she deserves.”
My voice is quaking, and I do everything I can to hold back my tears. I really feel a need to appear so strong in front of these two strangers.
Both men nod to me respectfully, “Yes Ma’am” they say quietly in unison. And then we begin. We walk over to her bed. The men stand on the sides and pull on the bottom sheet. On the count of three, we left the sheet and her. They hold the side of the sheet and I hold her head. I am stunned at how heavy she feels. She weighs only 75 pounds, but it is a struggle for the three of us to carry her that short distance to the body bag. We lay her down and one man begins to zip the bag. He pulls the zipper up to her chin and then he purposely stops. He isn’t comfortable in continuing. I kneel down and take hold of the zipper. I kiss my mother on the forehead and then I finish the job. I pull the zipper over her face.
“Okay” I tell them, “you can take her now.”
They nod and each one takes a handle at the end of the bag. As they descend the stairs, I see my father and sisters looking on. No one says anything. The two men proceed out the door and I follow them to the car where they put the bag in the trunk, just like a bag of groceries. Now, this package of my mother looks so, so small. It is as if she shrank just in that short period of time.
The two men close the trunk and they get in the front seat. They’re already chatting and laughing about something. As they take off, I watch and am amazed to see no visible trace of my mother. She is now gone. Forever.
Sunday, January 12, 2020
Heading to Bangladesh
Heading to Bangladesh
November 2019
FB post
I leave on November 24 to go to Bangladesh to facilitate a leadership program with these future leaders. I'm grateful to be part of this program: World of Academy for the Future of Women.
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