Have you got your sandwiches ready?

Wherever a man turns he can find someone who needs him. ~Albert Schweitzer

Saturday, 18 July 2009 was the inaugural Mandela Day. The cause was celebrated all over the world and the point was to 'make an imprint' by dedicating 67 minutes of your time on that day to basically spreading good vibes by helping someone or making some sort of contribution to making the world better. The time would be spent in honour of continuing Nelson Mandela's legacy and remembering the 67 years he spent as a leader, trying to make his country and the world a better place.

I've spoken a few times here about giving of myself and how much I felt I should do that more. When I heard about Mandela Day, I thought this was my opportunity to stop talking about it and BE about it. My idea: to drive the streets of my city with packed sandwiches and give them out to needy people as we came across them. Pretty simple and straight-forward, right?

Anyway, Hubby and I started off at about 12:20 or so and the 67 minutes started ticking. I had it all worked out in my head... we'd get to the city centre and at every traffic light there'd be the usual three or four guys either begging or selling stuff; we'd stop at the red lights and hand out our lovely festively-packaged sandwiches with smiles and salutations all round while we gleefuly shouted "Happy Mandela Day!" as we pulled off, hooting... lol.

But it was not to be...

The experience of Mandela Day was a really big eye-opener for me. I am still amazed at how we agonized about the selection of our beneficiaries. As soon as we got into town, we realised we had no system or real plan. And a lot of questions that we were only now asking ourselves, 20 minutes into our 67!

Would we give to beggars? We decided that maybe we shouldn't because they really weren't desrving. Everyone knows they make a lot of money for doing nothing but standing around looking disshevelled and miserable. But, 30minutes in, we hadn't seen anyone that was deserving so we pulled up at a red light and sure enough, there was this kid... begging.

He couldn't have been older than about 16 or 17, so we decided 'why not' and gave him a sarmy. "Happy Mandela Day!", we said smiling. The kid nodded his head and walked on to the next car... no smile. no thank you. nothing! We were like WTF?!? and I looked back at him in the rearview mirror. The sandwich was gone! I have no idea were he put it, but he stood there, between the two lanes of cars, empty-handed and making sickly little gestures between his stomach and his mouth as he emplored our fellow motorists to pity him with some food.

WoW! I was stunned, but I had to think about what I really expected to happen. Well, I guess I have already answered that question quite early in this blog post. Could I really describe what 'needy' means? I mean, just because that kid was on the hustle and he needed to keep up the appearance of sheer destitution to get any more food, did that mean he didn't need the sandwich? Or maybe he needed something else that I could have given.

That question still forming in my subconscious, we moved into the next neighbourhood. (Now, the South African socio-economic dynamic is so definitive, vivid and palpable that I hope anyone unfamiliar to the country will still follow). Picture an old white neighbourhood with a small mall-type centre and across the road a smaller centre with the old Portuguese-owned take away, post office, habedashery, dry cleaner, little Italian restaurant, etc... Of course, at lunchtime on a Saturday, there is bound to be an assortment of black people sitting scattered across the tiny lawns and their railings... on break from work or looking for work.

We pull into the parking lot and think this is the perfect spot, there's gotta be someone needy here who's not a beggar. And that, my friends, I learned is one of the hardest things you could ever try and do! How do you assess 'need' by just looking at someone? There were so many people there... big mama's talking loud with their friends, domestics with the white babies they've been charged with caring for for the day, men in blue overalls asleep in the sun, the shopping centre security guard, the car guards... And every single one of them, I was sure, needed someone to perform some random act of kindness for them at that moment, but all I had was sandwiches.

All I had was sandwiches.

We drove around, and up & down, and debated... Picking people out and then gultily picking reasons why they weren't the ones. "These sandwiches are pretty rudimentary, so we've gotta give it to someone who won't judge - who's really just, like, starving"; "He looks pretty well-dressed and clean. Won't we come across as arrogant and as thinking that we're better than him?"; "He's obviously got a job, I'm sure he's got money for lunch"; "What if they think we're trying to poison them"; "I can't do it. You go. If you go, they'll be more receptive"; "But I feel so awkward... no, no, I can't. You go".

And so it went until we had been sitting in the parking lot of another centre in the area for about 10 minutes, watching the man who was sweeping up leaves on the sidewalks (not to mention having changed parking spots twice while doing it! lol). Sounds utterly pathetic, I know. Anyway, Hubby just decided to go for it and after a couple of "What do I say"s and "what if"s, he took the sandwich and went off to give it to the guy. Apparently he just gave him a funny look and then thanked him. He watched Hubby walk away for a while before he finally took a sniff of the sandwhich, peeked inside it, and then took a bite.

The first one was the hardest (the beggar doesn't count). We (or I, rather) quickly eased into it and went on to give away all our sandwiches, but one. I changed tack by losing "Happy Mandela Day" and rather explaining what Mandela Day was and why I was giving sandwiches, which elicited much better reactions. The whole experience was thoroughly rewarding. I'm still all about LOVE and I'm so going to make a habit of giving. But, it was also a lesson...

I had this idea that our 67 minutes was going to be a walk-over, but it turned out to be (a mostly agonising) 2 and half hours! I learned that everyone has a story. I learned that all it takes is a little time to get to know someone's story & you would be surprised to learn how much you really can give with what little you've got. We had it in our heads that 'needy' people are out there, like this other sub-species of human with easily identifiable markings. But we are needy too - all of us. Whether you have a roof over your head or live under a newspaper. We all need something, that someone close-by can give. We all need something that someone else has a lot of, like love or a helping hand, or time, or friendship, or even sandwiches. Yes, even sandwiches.

Like the one guy we gave a sandwich to by the train station. He was clearly employed in some sort of hard-labour, but he hadn't eaten all day and he needed that sandwich. Even though all I had was a sandwich... the lesson was, all he needed was a sandwich!

And as we drove off and I saw him bow his head in a silent prayer, it all started to hit home. Of all the sandwiches we gave that day, I only saw that reaction once - but just that one guy... just that one sandwich made it all worth it.

A lesson in love... what I've learned from MJ's life and death

Love is the only sane and satisfactory answer to the problem of human existence. ~Eric Fromm

I've been trawling the web a bit and there's so much on about Michael Jackson's memorial yesterday. I got a sense that a lot of the (online) media was just looking for any little tiny bit of controversy to attach to it all, and I found myself thinking, "Damn! Even in death, they just won't give the man any peace!"


I think for the most part it failed though (at least for right now, in the immediate aftermath). I stood in front of my TV last night, as I caught the last 30 min of the event and I felt something that surprised me. I remember the tears welling up, the moment they started singing "Heal the World". I was stunned by the way that entire crowd of 50 000 people stood there in reverent silence - albeit for just a second - after the song came to an end. I could feel the hearts of literally millions of people around the world as we collectively said goodbye to the greatest entertainer of all time.


MJ has touched so many. I am not ashamed to admit that I am one of the many, but I am ashamed to accept that I didn't even realise until last night, just how much he had touched me personally and the lessons that he has really left behind for the entire world. How sad. How truly and deeply sad the story of MJ has been. This man... adored by millions, villified by many and persecuted by a few. After all is said and done, it's clear that all he ever wanted to be about was love. In that instant after the song had been sung - in those few moments of soul-amplifying silence - it all became so clear. And in that instant, that's ALL it was about. For a few beautiful moments, love was all any of us could feel.


"There will never be another Michael Jackson". I heard that phrase so many times during the course of the memorial, and while I believe it to be true, I don't want it to be so. We need another Michael Jackson in the world. We need another something to unite us, and to bring us all in unison - even for a few moments - back to that state of pure and radiating love, all across the world.


As the human race, we are heading further and further away from each other. As the world gets smaller and smaller, so our outlook becomes narrower. We withdraw deeper and deeper into ourselves. Not looking beyond our own noses, or caring beyond our own issues.


MJ had been trying to tell us for a minute that we've had it all wrong, so now that he's gone will we finally listen? I was moved so deeply yesterday. I felt inspired to do more, to be more, to give more. A valuable lesson, in light of the recent goings on in my life.


The guy has done more than touch a generation, he has touched a consciousness. Anyone who was as shaken as I was by his passing will know exactly what I mean. Once the most famous man in the world, it was his fame that was responsible for the simultaneous love, hate and judgement that has been showered upon him through the years. Did he die an unhappy man, a lonely man? I think about that and I wonder... if that's the case, then shame on the world for bringing that upon him when he has given us so much. Shame on us, when all he ever wanted to be about was love. When all he ever wanted from us was love.


Well, MJ - I hope you finally felt it. Even if it was just for an instant... some random, yet profound moment during yesterday's memorial. I hope you finally felt that love you gave reflected back to you.

R.I.P.

Easy...? Who said it would be easy? (Pt III)

Remember, we all stumble, every one of us. That's why it's a comfort to go hand in hand. ~Emily Kimbrough

So now, after everything and having re-read pt 1 and pt 2 again, I realise that I'm facing the next hurdle in my journey. I have to now learn to draw the line between doing me and doing others wrong.

Things with Hubby are, well... interesting. Although the whole thing hasn't exactly been resolved, we have spoken a bit and I think he's opened up as much as he's going to on the matter. Now, it's time for me to decide my reaction. I'm tempted to be on some, "F*ck it!", but that's not me. I love him and value our marriage way too much. Plus, I realise that we both have our frustrations and we both have things that we're trying to do and to achieve.

I actually feel really tired. The tension has taken a lot out of me, and I want it to be over with already. I need to decide what I want my life to look like and what I've got to do, what I'm prepared to do, to make it so. One thing I know for sure is that I want a life with Hubby in it and I want it to be a happy one... for both of us. I think I know what he needs from me and I guess I need to decide whether I'm ready to make the trade-off, because that's what it will require - some give and take. And as much as I hate to admit it, I've been taking much more than I've given recently.

I suppose I thought that by reclaiming me - sometimes at all costs - I was empowering myself. But which is the me that I was trying to reclaim? In fact, the answer lies in that very word... REclaim, take BACK. I've been trying to hold on to an unmarried, unobligated me, but the (sad) reality of it is things done changed, and they've changed for good! There's no going back, all that's left to do is to move forward.

The disappointment is undeniable. I feel somewhat like I've failed. I thought I had it right! In a way, I think I did. My intentions were honourable, but I just didn't DO it right. And that's my first big lesson on this path... no one is an island and while you must always do it FOR yourself, you can't do it BY yourself. I wanted so bad to be right, and for him to be the immature, over-reacting one. But there is no right and no wrong - there's just us. And in the immortal words of Dr Phil, I need to decide: "Do I want to be right, or do I want to be happy?".

Sigh*

It's good though. It's always good when you learn something, so that's what I'm choosing to take away from this... a lesson in life.

It sure 'nuff ain't easy.

Easy...? Who said it would be easy? (Pt II)

God grant me the serenity to accept the people I cannot change, the courage to change the one I can, and the wisdom to know it's me. ~Author Unknown

Yeah, so now I'm beginning to realise that I need to own me in the world. While focusing on me was a selfish indulgence that I really needed, I can't escape the fact that I still have a responsibility to my relationships with other people.

Perhaps I'm not really being fair on Hubby. We spoke about what happened over gmail chat last week and he said something to me that really took the wind out of my sails. "We're on different pages", he said.

Wow! Are we? Really? If I were to just be honest, I guess I'd have to admit that we actually are on different pages.

My journey has been a very personal one thus far and I've been completely unfocused on the effect that it was having on the people around me or even whether there has been any effect at all. If I try to put myself in Hubby's shoes, I can see how he'd be feeling... well... something. How could he not? I've been pretty much wrapped up in myself for the last few months - doing what I like, being with whom I want to be, going where I want to go. It probably seemed like a pretty sudden and possibly drastic change. I'll give him that.

But, at the same time, there's a part of me that finds that (if it's truly the case) to be a bit unfair. I mean, how long have I been doing just the opposite. Constantly hiding, cowering away in fear from anything that even remotely resembled independence?

Our dynamic at home is a little off-kilter, I guess. He works all the hours, but I make all the money (a little over-simplified, but a pretty neat nutshell). HOWEVER, I also do a whole lot of other stuff (in addition to my job) - I run the house, I raise the child, I pay the bills, I send the birthday cards & XMas cards & Fathers' Day & Mothers Day cards - for the both of us! I cook the meals (most of the time), I plan the anniversaries, I buy the groceries, I do the garden, I do the laundry... etc, etc, etc!

So, now I kinda feel like I deserve a little bit for me. I'm at home all day just about every day and spend 18 out of 24hrs with Little Tyke. He comes home late at night, extremely tired and prefers to spend weekends in bed. Lately, he's even been going to the office on Saturdays, so it's even worse now. He gets frustrated and I totally get that. But I've been frustrated - for almost 2 years now! And I didn't always used to be this way.

I was once care-free and happy-go-lucky. I used to work out and do my hair and my nails. I used to party and hang out with friends. But then I got married. In the beginning, I would stay at home, missing him for hours til he came back. Just imagine my disappointment time and again when he came home too tired to even talk! So, I hung around, doing stuf around the house - trying to build a home. And again, no reciprocation. I really let it get me down.

Then a few months ago, I started living again. So, I started having friends over on weekends... laughing, chatting and having fun. But it was without him, because he was still tired, still stressed... So yes, we are on different pages.

But now that we've established that, what do we do? That's what frustrated me most about the 2am office-run incident. To this day, more than a week later, I'm still like WTF!?!? It's still so up in the air, and I feel stuck. He still hasn't explained what happened.

Don't misunderstand. Our relationship is cool. We are close, very close again. But it feels kind of disingenious. Usually when we have an issue in our relationship, we bottle it up until we just about can't take it anymore then have a good, honest, heartfelt talk about it and everything gets sorted out. We both understand the situation and move forward knowing how to act in future. That's just our process.

But this time, this time... I don't know.

I'm left wondering if it was me. Has my journey of self-discovery made me insensitive? Am I missing clues that I would ordinarily have noticed instantaneously? Or is it him? Has my journey of self-discovery made him jealous?

I'm tired of pushing him to talk. I don't feel it in me anymore. That desperation that I once had to be the one to fix things, because I always believed it was my fault - I wasn't good enough, I didn't do the right thing - is just gone.

Shouldn't he take some responsibility for his own happiness by telling me WTF is going on?

I have half a mind to just leave it alone, but divorce is not on the cards for me. That's what happens when you let things fester in a marriage. So, what's the alternative? Do I keep pushing only to keep running into a brick wall? Or do I give him time in hopes that he'll finally open up? And if it's the latter, what do I do in the meantime. I have a strong suspicion that it's the changes in me that caused that change in him. So, do I go back to being a miserable, mousy home-body or do I just keep on as I have been and hope he gets on the bus eventually?

Argh! More questions. Just great!

Clearly, answers are few and far between at this point. Maybe I'll come back with part 3... but for now, I just need a drink!

Easy...? Who said it would be easy? (Pt I)

One of the good things that come of a true marriage is, that there is one face on which changes come without your seeing them; or rather there is one face which you can still see the same, through all the shadows which years have gathered upon it. ~George MacDonald

Well, I guess in all fairness, nobody said it would be easy. Nobody said growing up was a breeze, or that marriage was a walk in the park, nor that motherhood would be a piece of cake.

The past couple of months have seen a true change in me. I feel like my eyes are opened wider than they ever have been before; that I am seeing myself, the world... everything, in a way that I never have before. That change has allowed me to begin to recognise and acknowledge all sorts of things within me, which in turn has an effect on everything I do and my every reaction to every situation.

One of those 'situations' is my marriage or - to be specific - one particular incident this past weekend. Briefly, Hubby had made plans to go out on Saturday night as a sort of a trade-off for Sims (BFF) having taken me out the night before and me having asked him to baby-sit (simultaneously causing him to reschedule the plans he had already made for that night to Saturday night - HIS decision, made with the purest and most admirable of intentions... of that I'm sure. Plans, I might add, that I knew nothing about before asking).

Anyway, back to Saturday - Sims is over at the house after last night's jol, I invite the Usual Suspects [my crew of boys, and an assortment of good lady friends that I see a lil less often than the boys]. Hubby's plans fall through... "bummer, but at least he can still have a good time at home". At this point, the 'party' is already in full swing - everybody's having a bomb-ass time and I assumed Hubby was too.

Cut to midnight, one, two o'clock - I notice a progressive change in mood in Hubby. A couple of times, I go into the bedroom and he's there, head-in-hand, or laying on the bed staring up at the ceiling. I walk in, ask what's wrong. The first time I get told that there's nothing wrong. The second time, it's a little more serious. He's not feeling too good, but he's not sick or tired or feeling bad physicallly. "What can I do, Baby", I ask. Admittedly, the sounds of conversation and music in the other room was beckoning me, but I still cared about what Hubby was feeling. Really I did.

Anyway, I'm then told that there's not really anything I can do. He can't explain what's wrong or know how to fix it. I push a little bit more, but he's not willing to speak about it, so I leave it - I let him know I really care and I'm worried - but I leave it. Next moment, I'm back in the party - BTW, at this point the majority of people have left and it's just Sims, her man and her brother, and LB - my 'adopted' little brother (subject for another blog post). Anyway, I'm back and sitting with LB, jamming out to some hip-hop and Sims comes into the room, on some, "Your man is LEAVING, girl!".

Oh, just before that Hubby came in and took his laptop and some work files, then told me he'd see me later. Probably stupidly, and not very intuitively, I just assumed he was going to do some work in the bedroom. Meanwhile, he was packing his shit in the car and about to drive off! So I go rushing out to the car and stop him - all dramatic like. lol

(I'm really trying to keep this short and digestible, but it's really hard, so eish... bear with me.)

Long story short, he just has to go, can't talk about why, but he needs to be at the office - he'll call when he arrives, keep his phone on at all times, and let me know when he's leaving. So again, I leave it. I'm troubled, but I have guests and they really are some of my favourite, funnest friends, so I leave it. LB goes home, Sims and crew and I all go to bed and I wake up in the morning as Hubby is getting out of bed.

So now, in the sober light of day, I'm like "WTF!!!" . "Like, really. What just happened?". I thought I did everything that could be reasonably expected to handle that situation like an adult. So why did I not get adult behaviour back, or did I?

I just didn't know what to make of it. I think Hubby and I are a bit of an odd pair, because we are extremely similar. We are both very sensitive souls. Our hearts rule our heads and that's just a fact. But we are not fiery and tempestuous. We feel deep within and avoid conflict. And yet, while we are both that way, we are both that way for very different reasons.

It's so intoxicatingly paradoxical! There is serious attraction for me in the concept of two people being so alike and yet so different... BUT, I digress.

Anyway, this situation had me stumped. I have made real progress over the past two months in figuring ME out. Just me on my own. Now, I am being faced more and more with getting to know and own me in the world. (Hmm... rings a bell).

Ok, now I'm taking this in a different direction. I didn't expect that.

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PAUSE!
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This is a part 2-worthy blog post, if ever there was one.

To be continued...