Words
Same Same But Different
But over time, I came to love my work because of the constant opportunity to interview all kinds of people and learn about their work. And in turn, share their success stories. Eventually, it just became natural to me to talk with just about anyone. I had honed my ability to listen and pepper in enough questions that eventually let things evolve into simply—a pleasant conversation.
Emotions as a Universal Language
Upon their request, we stopped what we were doing, took a seat around the living area, and quieted ourselves to be fully present in the moment. Then, one by one, each caregiver stood before us and spoke of the last few days and hours with Lola. Their words were at first calm and measured. But soon, lips quivered, voices cracked, and tears fell as they endeavored to be heard through the rush and release of their pent-up grief.
Three Americans, a Satellite Dish, and a Funeral
Bernd, Nick, and I wandered along this one road village while it was still light out. We were quickly met by a large group of local kids, rather excited to play frisbee with two tall guys from America. I stood by, taking pictures but soon got distracted by a group of people gathered at the doorway to someone’s home not far from where we were. I walked on over to see what was up and peaked through the shoulders of a couple of people.
My Afghan 15 Minutes of Fame
So, without my flak jacket, I was whisked around town in the front passenger seat for a 90-minute tour with three enthusiastic and gracious hosts. We first when to a “safe house’ to see the Buzkashi horses (the Afghan national sport, often likened to polo). We then drove out to the city park and various other spots around this beautiful, pastoral town where there was no visual evidence of a war that was already 8 years old and ongoing. Everywhere we went, my hosts eagerly took photos—me with each of them and then group photos in all combinations, each time snapped into memory with all four of our cameras—mine, and each of theirs.
From Fear to Comfort
There were no streetlights on this rural road from the airport to the center of Udaipur. Blanketed in the pitch black darkness of rural India where light pollution was not a thing, the only lights that flickered were those of the massive trucks driving by, which both comforted and worried me at the same time. I had gotten out of the car and waited, somehow feeling safer that way. But by now, I was nervous for real, my stomach a bit in knots. Though the driver was kind and apologetic for the inconvenience, I couldn’t help thinking of what ugly things could unfold. I kept pushing the thoughts out of my mind. But the minutes continued to pass and my dread continued to increase. I silently prayed to the universe that all would be fine. And it was.
A New Me in a New World
Soon, we were also introduced to many other international cuisines at the homes of our diverse group of expat neighbors. The variety of people who became our friends and neighbors was so much fun and eye-opening. And I unknowingly came to feel comfortable in a way I had not felt before.
How 9/11 Changed Me
…as I reflect on the 20th anniversary of 9/11, I again feel distraught. Because sadly, two decades later, just as I worried two decades ago, the world is still full of hate. Perhaps more so, because the hate has divided what was once a united America in response to 9/11. And I find myself yearning once again to put a human face—on everything.