Tag: helping others

Billie Jean (not her name)

by 8hummingbirdway

I had a house cleaning business for 10 years, back in CT – over 25 years ago, after a 5 year stint at being a programmer/analyst. (Not my world.)

I started out cleaning on my own and then slowly hired others to work for me. I paid them well and gave them raises when they were fully trained. They came and went. I loved them all in various ways, except maybe Trudy (not her name) who didn’t clean well – always failed the house checks. No idea why I couldn’t bring myself to fire her. I generally only fired people who were horrible – or who stole from clients as Lana did. It was a bummer to fire her. I fired another woman who looked through clients’ drawers during training. And a man who didn’t work out due to attitude and ability/willingness.

I was good at cleaning, hiring, and training. Iris, Eleanor, Billie Jean, Lana and Leigh Ann were the best cleaners – as good as or better than me. I really enjoyed Iris and I think of her from time to time …wish we were still in touch. She was a bright light. She recommended her friend, M (I can never remember her name) – who was very distant, but I had a good feeling about her. I think she was wary of employers, or maybe white people – probably for good reason. M didn’t last long. She got pregnant and invited me to her baby shower. It felt awkward but felt I should go. I realize now that she probably hoped for a substantial gift. I wasn’t loaded, we didn’t own our home, pretty much lived hand to mouth, no savings. I should have had savings by the standards of others, but I never learned to focus on money. (My dad was well-to do, but not happy.) Anyway, she probably thought we were rich, as bosses tend to be (maybe). The baby shower was very awkward. Very proper, and staid – good manners for my benefit. I knew it would have been a lot more fun without my presence and I never did understand until today why I had been invited. (Sorry, M.)

Last night I dreamed of Billie Jean, and everyone else flowed in. An abundance of warm memories.

In the dream I visited her. I was in her kitchen. I was glad to see her. (I do think about her from time to time.) She offered me guidance – several bits of advice about how to manage life – I’m not sure why. I thanked her for her advice and caring.

Her daughter came into the kitchen, still a child. She said (or I knew somehow) that she had always looked up to and admired me, though I think I met her only once or twice – and we just said hi.

In life, I had never been to Billie Jean’s home. I was not opposed to friendships with the cleaners (Eleanor was a friend) but I had 2 young children who kept me busy. [For the last 5 years of the cleaning, I could afford to stay home with them for the most part.]

The story of Billie Jean is that she was low key, humble, and a great cleaner. I paid a few of the women a bit more and she was one of them. She ran the business for me when I was away – washed and dried the cleaning rags, opened/locked my house if I wasn’t there, dealt with any issues, called me if needed. I would pay her additionally during those times.

At one point my family went on a one-month road trip, and I left Billie Jean at the helm. She learned the combination to the safe that cleaners dropped the day’s payments into, and she made the deposits into my bank account. I will forever be grateful to her. I had a wonderful trip and no concerns on the home/business front.

Later on, I found money missing once. Then again. After the 2nd time, I called Billie Jean into a private room when she returned from her day’s work …and confronted her. I had racked my brain and there was no other explanation. She admitted taking the money. She cried, and said she was in a terrible financial situation, explained it to me. She was behind on several bills and didn’t know what to do.

I was able to help her. Happily, I sat on a committee in our small city that granted funds to individuals or families who had a one-time financial crisis. I advised her to go a few months without paying and then apply to this organization for help. And she did. And she got the help.

This the only time I used the committee to get help for someone I knew, and I’m glad I did. She deserved help, and in truth, not many people knew about the available funds.

When I decided to move to NY, I foolishly left my 16-year-old in charge of my business. (She refused to leave CT, and the laws there allow 16-year-olds to get legally emancipated.) Long story short, it didn’t work out.

Clients started falling away, and I asked Billie Jean if she would take ownership of all the equipment, the remaining clients, etc. We agreed that she would pay me $50/month for some amount of time, but after a year she stopped paying me.

I wasn’t angry. I was surviving. I was glad for any service she could provide the clients who had trusted me with their homes.

I wasn’t able to reach her and tell her that. I didn’t know her address. (My daughter had brought the equipment to her.) I felt she carried guilt about this. It bothered me.

More than 10 years later, I finally was able to message her on Facebook. I learned that she had a surprise late-in-life pregnancy and stopped or slowed cleaning houses, worked as a janitor somewhere. It would have been nice if she had communicated with me, but she was never big on words.

And I have to trust life. Perhaps I wouldn’t have responded well. I wasn’t thrilled initially.

It was nice to see her in the dream. I tried today to check in but wasn’t able to send another message to her. I did send prayers of wellbeing and love and hope.

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More about Bienvenu Kamwendo, our Congalese host

by 8hummingbirdway

Looking back to Africa

I’ve found a short video of Bienve, our host in Democratic Republic of Congo, that I would like to share with you. This man is remarkable. He suffered from the lack of reliable adult presence and guidance early in life, and he managed to turn his challenges into blessings later on – blessings for others.

I recently spoke with Bienve about his personal story. Bienve never knew his father. His mother was not able to care for him for reasons I do not know. He lived with several families in childhood. When he was able, he worked selling fruit and taking photographs of tourists and selling them for pennies.

Bienve’s ancestors are from the Nande and Hera Tribes.

I don’t know all the details of his journey, but I know that he managed to go to school and become an attorney in adulthood. He shared with me the fact that he adopted 3 children well before he was married, children that needed guidance and support. One of them, Sarif, lives with his family still, and works for Remember Youth for Change, the non-profit organization he founded in Goma. As does his wife, Clarisse.

This man is a remarkable and outstanding human being. I stand in awe of him. His vision is all about helping others. Through his nonprofit and with the help of his staff, he provides pathways for young Congolese people to learn sewing, business, leadership, computer skills, and carpentry. He provides opportunities for them to engage in art and music. He provides activities and school shirts for children in multiple refugee camps. He rents fields for refugees to grow their own food.

All of these offerings are changing lives, healing wounds, and opening the future for others.

Something that touches my heart most deeply is that when hospitals in Goma find children with war injuries, they call Bienve. Knowing that these children received their injuries because of being child soldiers, and cannot return home to their villages, that they are societal outcasts, they call the man who can help them. Upon their release from the hospital, they are folded into Remember Youth for Change. They develop new selves with purpose. They find purpose in helping others, and training is available to them in carpentry, painting and agriculture.

Here Bienve tells about Remember Youth for Change in his own words.

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After the Meal

by 8hummingbirdway

The Africa Posts

After the meal at the Bulango Camp, we walked outside a bit. Initially there were trees here, but almost all of their slim trunks were used to shape the structures that serve as homes for each family.

Some of this time is a blur. Looking back, I realize how sleep deprived I was. I haven’t fully returned to balance as I write these words about 11 days after this meal I reported on yesterday. Right now it is early morning here, and it is 9 hours later in Democratic Republic of Congo – afternoon.

That afternoon, I had been in Africa for 7 days after a 23 hour segmented trip through the sky during which I slept 4 hours. Aside from my one day of hand washing clothes and visiting the Nile, I had full days every day, sometimes up before 4 am and/or up until midnight or later. I had fallen, injured my knee – which provided an extra night short of sleep due to monitoring my injury, changing my bandages and making sure I didn’t bleed on the linen. I got stitches the following day; my knee is still mildly inflamed. I somehow adjusted to the 8 or 9 hour time change (depending on the country) by force of our schedule. We had spent time in 2 areas of Uganda, slept in an airport due to cancelled flight, climbed a slippery hill in search of gorillas in Rwanda, crossed the border by land into DRC, and spent 2 very full days in Goma with Bienve.

I am quite aware, due to my condition since my return, of my age. Did I say I am 68? I am in good form for my age. I have eaten concsiously since my 20s, I lived on a fairly steep hill for most of the past 25 years, I did a lot of bicycling for 10 of the past 15 years, I stretch daily and walk often, though I am slowing down the past 2 winters. All of this allowed me to take this trip, and I know I will return to well-being soon.

For peace of mind, I will visit a specialist in tropical infections soon, although I expect a clean bill of health. Something passed through my body in the first few days home, but I am feeling stronger daily.

The impact of this journey on my soul is immeasurable. For all of it I am grateful. I carry much more within my soul than I did when I left. The impact of each soul I connected with, each child’s and woman’s face I looked into, smiles shared, hands touched, steps walked beside, meals taken with – has left its mark. And I also hold a part of the loss in my heart, the loss that came before that which now shows in the faces I looked into.

And I hold the knowledge of each helping person who saw the need and created solutions. I hold within me the knowledge and experience of those who wielded help and showed me these comparatively small areas of our planet with people in need, as a result of loss and trauma. They showed me how they took personal action to provide others’ healing and ability to walk forward into their uncertain future.

I stress “small areas of our planet” because I know that loss and pain and trauma exist in many other places as well. Places we hear about on the news. Places we are not aware of. Some are in our communities. Some are next door to us. I know that loving others are nearby to help. The loving others who help those in need is an important part of my story, though I have not written about it fully. I have only a miniscule knowledge of it. I know a small handful of their faces, shown to me on this journey – honored, appreciated and loved by me.

I hope to extend myself in ways that will unfold as I walk forward. My way is a smaller and more personal way than the way of these who create organizations and attract other helpers and step forward powerfully and bravely in love and support of their fellow humans. Their names are Beka (who I have yet to write about), Kuol, Bienve, and there are many others – those with vision, and those who spend their time and resources in support of the vision of these leaders.

Either way, it matters whether or not we choose to help fellow humans within our reach.

I have witnessed and touched a great deal. Were it not for the blessing of being able to share my journey through this writing, I would not be able to process it. But I am – day by day – in gratitude and love and grateful absorption, release and transformation. Thank you for reading my words. For caring, for being willing to hold this knowledge I share.

I meant for this post to be about the walk after the meal. But this day and this meal is a huge aspect of what I am carrying and holding now. And so it turns out that I have shared a bit more about this more personal aspect of what I saw and carry within “After the Meal.”

Would you like to know more about Goma’s nonprofit Remember Youth for Change? https://www.facebook.com/rememberyouthforchange