i couldn't ignore the Congolese man's advice. it was too direct, too all-knowing, too weird. when i finished my appointment with the admissions counselor i went outside the building and called Jimmy.
"Ahhh, Kacie. I need you. Can you come to my office?"
Jimmy is Albanian and having learned English in Italy he carries the accent along with other unique linguistic qualities that brand his voice and way of speaking one of the most original i've ever heard. oftentimes, as a volunteer, i left his office understanding very little- and not because of pronunciation (which at times is a challenge to decipher), but how he puts his words together. like an avalanche- fast and consuming and unforeseeable- a once predictable conversation could quickly turn in to a mess of confusing phrases and half-expressed thoughts leaving me trapped and struggling for some light of an answer. his big desk and framed certifications somehow led me to believe the difficulty in translation was my fault, and i accepted. however his willingness to laugh at himself smooths over every glitch.
"Uh, sure. When?"
"Now if is good for you?"
"Now?"
He laughed. "Yes, if is good? for you?"
"Okay, I'll be there."
when i walked in to his office he told me to sit and he swiveled my direction and crossed his legs.
"you see" he started "i called you for this job developer. this position, the job developer position. is bad, veeeerrry bad. some stupid girl she come and she i don't know. 2 weeks. i don't see her. i never hear of such thing. i don't know, have you ever hear of this?"
"of what?"
"of taking a position and starting to work like this and never coming back!"
"you hired someone, she worked for two weeks, and she left?"
"i'm asking you? can you believe this? have you ever hear of this? i don't know. she takes evvveerrrything off her desk, maybe she's dead or something. any way Kacie, we have this job of the job developer. you do things, i don't know, help the refugees find jobs. they need a lot of help. can you do this?"
"sure."
"is 20 hours per week, thas all. but maybe 40. i don't know. 20 right now. we'll see."
"okay."
"okay. good. you are verrrryyyy nice girl. this is a perfect job. good. come back tomorrow."
i drove home pretty sure the next day i was officially a staff member, that my months of volunteerism had paid off, and that with only 20 hours a week i could afford to live (hopefully) and still have time for school.
Monday, April 13, 2009
Divine appointments at city college
I had been waiting for over an hour and a half, sitting in a chair at the city college registration office, shifting my body weight from side to side. my butt was getting sore and it was the only thing i could think to do to keep myself engaged. i noticed the man across from me had been waiting for quite some time as well, but i made a point of not talking to him. i was growing bored with myself, still fascinated with foreigners.
but i couldn't help silently challenging myself, and trying to figure out exactly which country he was from without having to ask. he was dark, but not black dark like a Ugandan or a Sudanese- more orangey dark. he was short and his head was full of tight brown curls, Ethiopian looking. i couldn't place him. he was a mixture. he caught me looking at him so i smiled and said hello, i asked him which courses he was registering for. he was there for english, and algebra.
"you speak english well though."
"yes but i want to know more."
i nodded an okay. i could feel myself reserving friendliness and i wasn't sure why. as if he knew the game i had been playing earlier he offered up his answer.
"i am from the Congo." he said.
the Congo, hm, i was wrong.
i didn't know much about the Congo, i knew it was in central africa but the rest was hazy.
"welcome." i said. "how long have you been here?"
"I came last year. Do you know Alliance for African Assistance (AAA)?"
i found it odd that my world had shrunk this small.
San Diego is a large city. AAA is a small organization. I was at the city college, far away from there, working on pursuing my dreams, my other dreams, the dreams which did not include working with refugees. I had eliminated those upon my return from Ghana. It was my third day back.
i answered tentatively "yeeaah."
"You know it? Alliance for African Assistance?"
"Yes, i used to volunteer there."
"Oh really?!"
"Yes."
"and now what is it that you are doing?"
"This." i said, pointing around. "Going back to school."
"You need to call Jimmy."
"What?"
"You need to call Jimmy." He said, referring to Jimmy the Chief Operating Officer of AAA.
i didn't know how to respond. he was speaking to me as if he knew me, or as if somebody had told him to relay this message to me. i tried to wiggle myself out from his command, but something registered it Divine, in an unexpected simple sort of way.
and just before i could think about it too much, a counselor called my name and my wait was over. as i walked away from the man he said it again. "When you leave this place, you need to call Jimmy."
but i couldn't help silently challenging myself, and trying to figure out exactly which country he was from without having to ask. he was dark, but not black dark like a Ugandan or a Sudanese- more orangey dark. he was short and his head was full of tight brown curls, Ethiopian looking. i couldn't place him. he was a mixture. he caught me looking at him so i smiled and said hello, i asked him which courses he was registering for. he was there for english, and algebra.
"you speak english well though."
"yes but i want to know more."
i nodded an okay. i could feel myself reserving friendliness and i wasn't sure why. as if he knew the game i had been playing earlier he offered up his answer.
"i am from the Congo." he said.
the Congo, hm, i was wrong.
i didn't know much about the Congo, i knew it was in central africa but the rest was hazy.
"welcome." i said. "how long have you been here?"
"I came last year. Do you know Alliance for African Assistance (AAA)?"
i found it odd that my world had shrunk this small.
San Diego is a large city. AAA is a small organization. I was at the city college, far away from there, working on pursuing my dreams, my other dreams, the dreams which did not include working with refugees. I had eliminated those upon my return from Ghana. It was my third day back.
i answered tentatively "yeeaah."
"You know it? Alliance for African Assistance?"
"Yes, i used to volunteer there."
"Oh really?!"
"Yes."
"and now what is it that you are doing?"
"This." i said, pointing around. "Going back to school."
"You need to call Jimmy."
"What?"
"You need to call Jimmy." He said, referring to Jimmy the Chief Operating Officer of AAA.
i didn't know how to respond. he was speaking to me as if he knew me, or as if somebody had told him to relay this message to me. i tried to wiggle myself out from his command, but something registered it Divine, in an unexpected simple sort of way.
and just before i could think about it too much, a counselor called my name and my wait was over. as i walked away from the man he said it again. "When you leave this place, you need to call Jimmy."
Hidden treasures
-San Diego-
There are times in life when it almost seems as if it just isn't up to us to decide, as though the forces of creation are pushing us along in a specific chosen direction and all we can do is climb aboard and hope it is taking us somewhere we'll enjoy.
my mother called me one day and asked if i wanted to go thrift store shopping with her. i said of course, and in less than half an hour we were cruising El Cajon Blvd. looking for deals. i saw a banner strung across a shabby white building, it read, "Alliance for African Assistance (AAA) Thrift Store". We swerved to the curb, parked, and went in.
As i was rifling through messy racks of colorful clothing i began to wonder. i looked around. the name and the environment did not seem to match, i couldn't make the connection, so i asked the woman behind the counter.
"All the money from this store" she said "goes to our organization, straight to the refugees."
i still didn't get it.
i was born and raised in san diego, but returning as an adult who has developed an interest in other cultures i was beginning to realize i knew very little about "my city". my san diego was mostly, a white san diego. i felt a subtle flush of shame.
"refugees?"
"yeah!" she half-shouted, folding my shirts and pushing them in a used plastic bag. "lots of 'em! from all over!"
"here?"
"ah huh!"
i spent some time, leaned up against the counter, inquiring further and leaving with the company's business card in hand. my mom could see i was excited. a week later i saw they had posted an online ad and were conducting interviews for the position of case manager.
it was my dream job that i never knew existed. working as a case manager at a refugee resettlement agency. every day would be spent interacting with people from all over the world, helping them settle in to a new life in the U.S.
it seemed perfect.
i went in for the interview, was well recieved, and came back for a second interview.
after i didn't hear back i called them to ask of my status. "we are sorry but we hired someone else, a girl who just came back from nepal. we will be getting a lot of refugees from asia soon, right now we are getting burmese refugees, and she speaks their language- so... sorry."
it was awkward, rejection always is, but i decided to not care, and a few weeks later i had fully incorporated myself in to the organization as a volunteer. i needed money, and volunteering wasn't helping that situation much, but something urged me to just keep doing it.
i cleaned closets and organized donated goods. i tagged along with the case managers, going to welfare appointments, doctor's appointments, and registering newly arrived children for school. i made home visits and brought families to see the ocean for the first time in their lives.
and, i watched the just-hired employee settle in to her position and begin to claim it with confidance.
my heart sank. i wanted a paid position. i wanted a name badge. i wanted a desk and a schedule i had to adhere to. unemployment was beginning to gnaw at me, nibbling little bits of my self-worth every day. i felt like i was using myself and i wondered aloud to God, didn't he care?
and then i got the email- from my friend Dr. Sophie Kuhn, asking me to join them for the 6 week health outreach in Ghana.
i laughed, we humans can only see so much, and this is a truth i continuously forget. i saw 5 feet, but God saw the mile. i told Sophie of course i would go, and found myself again in Ghana. in 6 weeks time i cemented my dream of becoming a midwife, and returned home with zeal.
i would find a job, any job, and devote my life to school. i would stop volunteering due to my new issue: lack of time. and really, i loved the months i spent at AAA but the work takes heart, a lot of energy, and a certain degree of devotion. people, and their pressing daily needs, become your priority. secretly i was starting to love it and that scared me. i was afraid this new love would distract me and cause me to swerve and lose focus, to forget what it was i really wanted.
There are times in life when it almost seems as if it just isn't up to us to decide, as though the forces of creation are pushing us along in a specific chosen direction and all we can do is climb aboard and hope it is taking us somewhere we'll enjoy.
my mother called me one day and asked if i wanted to go thrift store shopping with her. i said of course, and in less than half an hour we were cruising El Cajon Blvd. looking for deals. i saw a banner strung across a shabby white building, it read, "Alliance for African Assistance (AAA) Thrift Store". We swerved to the curb, parked, and went in.
As i was rifling through messy racks of colorful clothing i began to wonder. i looked around. the name and the environment did not seem to match, i couldn't make the connection, so i asked the woman behind the counter.
"All the money from this store" she said "goes to our organization, straight to the refugees."
i still didn't get it.
i was born and raised in san diego, but returning as an adult who has developed an interest in other cultures i was beginning to realize i knew very little about "my city". my san diego was mostly, a white san diego. i felt a subtle flush of shame.
"refugees?"
"yeah!" she half-shouted, folding my shirts and pushing them in a used plastic bag. "lots of 'em! from all over!"
"here?"
"ah huh!"
i spent some time, leaned up against the counter, inquiring further and leaving with the company's business card in hand. my mom could see i was excited. a week later i saw they had posted an online ad and were conducting interviews for the position of case manager.
it was my dream job that i never knew existed. working as a case manager at a refugee resettlement agency. every day would be spent interacting with people from all over the world, helping them settle in to a new life in the U.S.
it seemed perfect.
i went in for the interview, was well recieved, and came back for a second interview.
after i didn't hear back i called them to ask of my status. "we are sorry but we hired someone else, a girl who just came back from nepal. we will be getting a lot of refugees from asia soon, right now we are getting burmese refugees, and she speaks their language- so... sorry."
it was awkward, rejection always is, but i decided to not care, and a few weeks later i had fully incorporated myself in to the organization as a volunteer. i needed money, and volunteering wasn't helping that situation much, but something urged me to just keep doing it.
i cleaned closets and organized donated goods. i tagged along with the case managers, going to welfare appointments, doctor's appointments, and registering newly arrived children for school. i made home visits and brought families to see the ocean for the first time in their lives.
and, i watched the just-hired employee settle in to her position and begin to claim it with confidance.
my heart sank. i wanted a paid position. i wanted a name badge. i wanted a desk and a schedule i had to adhere to. unemployment was beginning to gnaw at me, nibbling little bits of my self-worth every day. i felt like i was using myself and i wondered aloud to God, didn't he care?
and then i got the email- from my friend Dr. Sophie Kuhn, asking me to join them for the 6 week health outreach in Ghana.
i laughed, we humans can only see so much, and this is a truth i continuously forget. i saw 5 feet, but God saw the mile. i told Sophie of course i would go, and found myself again in Ghana. in 6 weeks time i cemented my dream of becoming a midwife, and returned home with zeal.
i would find a job, any job, and devote my life to school. i would stop volunteering due to my new issue: lack of time. and really, i loved the months i spent at AAA but the work takes heart, a lot of energy, and a certain degree of devotion. people, and their pressing daily needs, become your priority. secretly i was starting to love it and that scared me. i was afraid this new love would distract me and cause me to swerve and lose focus, to forget what it was i really wanted.
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