"Where are you from?" a colleague at work asked me as we crossed paths in the teacher's lounge.
It's a loaded question for us international types. "You mean.....originally?" I ask with hesitation coloring every word. I hate to be boxed in by my Americaness.
"I'm from the U.S., from New York." I am careful to put the U.S. first, having previously been called out after once replying simply, New York. Everyone knows NY, right? I've forgotten the exact remark, but it had something to do with us Americans putting state before country or assuming everyone has heard of our city, state, hometown. As if we are so important we don't even need a country. (I didn't mean it that way, but New York is kind of up there with Paris, London and Rome. Does it really need a preface?)
"I'm looking for the French. I want to express my condolences," my colleague goes on to say. I am momentarily stunned, but lately I've been seeing- and seizing- moments to talk about Congo with clarity and enthusiasm.
"Weelll.... I did just come from Kinshasa, in the DRC and they are suffering..." I begin to break the silence, telling him I am happy to accept his condolences on their behalf but we need to do more. He's a little unimpressed with my spiel. I sense he just wants to talk about Paris. "I understand," I tell him. "It's because we think certain places are safe. And when the safe places become victims, we feel all the more vulnerable."
"Yes." He smiles as though we have finally understood each other. "They're the guardians. And when the guardians get attacked it's not good."
The guardians? I can see we haven't understood each other at all. But I am trying. I know how hard it is to sustain a grief or outrage. If I came to you one day and said my brother died, you would respond heartfully. Maybe even so the next day, if I came to you again and said I'd lost another brother. Day 3 and 4, yet more brothers and sisters dying might leave you with an overwhelming sense of sympathy at my tragic state of affairs.
After 1 week however, you will begin avoiding me because you just don't know how to respond anymore. It's unimaginable what is happening to me- that so many in just one family would die like this, all close together. As week 2 continues you will put me neatly into the category of "other" and "alien" or "odd." You will have no choice but to move on to other things that are easier to think about. Things that require less emotional output and fewer feelings of helplessness.
But the tragedy continues. Our brothers and sisters continue dying everyday, and not just in Congo, but around the globe. How do we cope?
