When I heard Malala Yousafzai address the UN, I knew I was witnessing greatness. This young Pakistani took up the mantle of defending equal access to education when she was 11 years old. She is changing the narrative of what is possible for young girls in Pakistan ... all in the face of the Taliban trying to deny them an education. Malala and her family were living in Pakistan when the Taliban had issued an edict in 2009 banning all girls from school. Malala was writing anonymously in a blog for the BBC at the time, and pursuing the education that was valuable to her. It was in her pursuit of an education at 15 years old, that she was shot in her head. To hear this young lady speak inspires me beyond words.... Malala has tapped her inner winner. Proud!!
Friday, July 26, 2013
Thursday, July 25, 2013
Making Connections through Story
Are you as fascinated as I that stories connect us. Everyone has a story, and our stories touch and connect or they may drive us away. Either way, I find them purely fascinating. I wonder sometimes whether I am a vessel for stories. Other people's stories. Like the one of my gentle giant.
One day I was in New York's Chinatown to purchase fish. It was the day before Good Friday and since it was our family's custom to have fish for dinner on that day, Chinatown was the best place for me to buy the freshest selection at a low price. The sellers and buyers had an interestingly strange interaction in the way they barely connected except to exchange money and fish along with some short, snappy, barking sounds. The buyers were trying to get their fish and escape the smell and random splash of fishy liquid as quickly as possible. The sellers wanted fish buyers to complete their purchases and make room for new customers, as quickly as possible. I thought it was an uncharacteristically rude way to conduct business, so I stepped to the side while someone was was de-scaling the fish I had purchased. It was then that I noticed my gentle giant.
His eyes were darting around the sea of buyers as though looking to help someone. He never said a word, and I will never know what possessed me to ask.
"Will you be closed tomorrow?" I was referring to Good Friday.
"No, not tomorrow", my giant replied. Then he looked down at me from what seemed like a height of 6 feet 7 inches or so, and began to tell me his story. He told me he had moved from China to Arlington, Virginia with his wife. He had loved their life in Virginia and I nodded that I understood. They had one child then another and they were happy as can be. Nice home, warm neighbors, comfy weather made it all worth while, except for one little, big thing. The money was funny and he needed to make more. My gentle giant moved to New York to be able to earn a higher wage and support his family. But the move cost him.
"Pay better," gentle giant explained, "but life not so good. Much better in Virginia." I knew what he meant of course. New York is tough, as Alicia Keys points out in song, it's a "concrete jungle where dreams are made of...".
"Everyday I work... I stand all day. Everyday I stand in water. Rain or shine, I just stand here and sell fish. People see me, they don't understand. It hurt to stand all day, but what can we do? We have to sell fish. In cold, in snow, in hot or cold, I stand in water all day, everyday. But not Chinese New Year. We close that day." He spoke in short bursts, and then he became quiet.
Later, I would think back several times to my encounter with the giant. When I had looked into his eyes I had seen a man who feels, a man who hurts, a man who wanted the best for the family he loves, just like the rest of us. That's when I first saw gentleness. Now, when I think back on that moment, I appreciate the miracle of those few minutes - when I connected with a gentle giant, in the hectic frenzy of one Holy Thursday afternoon as we shared some moments of his story.
Are you fascinated at the way stories can connect us? They can connect us to the best of each other.
Thank you gentle giant. Thank you.
One day I was in New York's Chinatown to purchase fish. It was the day before Good Friday and since it was our family's custom to have fish for dinner on that day, Chinatown was the best place for me to buy the freshest selection at a low price. The sellers and buyers had an interestingly strange interaction in the way they barely connected except to exchange money and fish along with some short, snappy, barking sounds. The buyers were trying to get their fish and escape the smell and random splash of fishy liquid as quickly as possible. The sellers wanted fish buyers to complete their purchases and make room for new customers, as quickly as possible. I thought it was an uncharacteristically rude way to conduct business, so I stepped to the side while someone was was de-scaling the fish I had purchased. It was then that I noticed my gentle giant.
His eyes were darting around the sea of buyers as though looking to help someone. He never said a word, and I will never know what possessed me to ask.
"Will you be closed tomorrow?" I was referring to Good Friday.
"No, not tomorrow", my giant replied. Then he looked down at me from what seemed like a height of 6 feet 7 inches or so, and began to tell me his story. He told me he had moved from China to Arlington, Virginia with his wife. He had loved their life in Virginia and I nodded that I understood. They had one child then another and they were happy as can be. Nice home, warm neighbors, comfy weather made it all worth while, except for one little, big thing. The money was funny and he needed to make more. My gentle giant moved to New York to be able to earn a higher wage and support his family. But the move cost him.
"Pay better," gentle giant explained, "but life not so good. Much better in Virginia." I knew what he meant of course. New York is tough, as Alicia Keys points out in song, it's a "concrete jungle where dreams are made of...".
"Everyday I work... I stand all day. Everyday I stand in water. Rain or shine, I just stand here and sell fish. People see me, they don't understand. It hurt to stand all day, but what can we do? We have to sell fish. In cold, in snow, in hot or cold, I stand in water all day, everyday. But not Chinese New Year. We close that day." He spoke in short bursts, and then he became quiet.
My giant looked off in the distance as though silently revisiting some long-ago memories, and in my mind, I was right there with him. In the midst of the noisy fish market, my giant and I were standing in our own little world, thinking of another time and a better life in Virginia, while standing on the edge of pandemomium that was the fish market.
Later, I would think back several times to my encounter with the giant. When I had looked into his eyes I had seen a man who feels, a man who hurts, a man who wanted the best for the family he loves, just like the rest of us. That's when I first saw gentleness. Now, when I think back on that moment, I appreciate the miracle of those few minutes - when I connected with a gentle giant, in the hectic frenzy of one Holy Thursday afternoon as we shared some moments of his story.
Are you fascinated at the way stories can connect us? They can connect us to the best of each other.
Thank you gentle giant. Thank you.
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