We Make a Way

What I love most about TW is the time I spend with the survivors at the shelter. Everyday I have many unique, beautiful, and inspiring moments with them. For most, I don't know the particulars of their stories. They are the keepers and owners of their stories, and if and when they want to share them with me they can. Decision-making and exercising choice are learned behaviors. What do we do? We spend time together. It's simple, yet infinitely meaningful. We cook together; do nails; they teach me about various plants and herbs; I show them how to dance to Lil Wayne. I find it unbelievably random how the various experiences I've had in the past 25 years collide with their worlds in the most meant-to-be ways.

For example, I was fortunate enough to have piano lessons in my childhood. I haven't played in years, but one of the survivors pulled me aside the other night. She is learning how to play. As I flipped through the sheet music, I was in disbelief that the Beatles song Oh Bla Di Oh Bla Da caught my eye. It was simple enough that I taught her how to play it. A few weeks ago, I had downloaded this very song to my computer. We listened to it so she could know how it should sound. Here she was with very little English, and me, with little Vietnamese, both belting out "Desmond has a barrow in the market place, Sally is a singer in the band!" Words cannot describe the joy within that moment of my life. Life is so random.

Last night, I went with two male survivors to A-Mart, a mini-mall/grocery store of sorts. One man lost his entire right leg in a factory that processed pig meat, the other lost the lower part of his leg in a factory producing steel and metalworks. Durian, the most magical tasting, pungent smelling fruit on the planet, is their favorite, so the three of us chilled outside the store eating one. It was work to devour this thing. It had so many packets of fruit inside it. I might actually be part durian now. The man without a leg has been in TW 7 years now. He has a wife and daughter in TW too, who visit him on the weekends at the shelter. He bought a bag of limes to give her this weekend when she visits. All these years, so much struggle and they still have romance. This man is a good man.

One of the female survivors approached me recently and said (in Vietnamese): "I want to help you with your Vietnamese. I remember what it was like to come to TW and know no Chinese. My employer yelled at us and none of us workers knew what he was saying. It was a frightening and confusing time. Later, I found I could ask other workers who knew Chinese to teach me a few things and little by little I finally know a lot of Chinese. Now I want to help you because I know how hard it is to be in that situation. Don't worry. We will help each other. Just come find me whenever you don't understand something." If this woman only knew how she changed my life in those 3 minutes. Where there appears to be no way, we find a way. We make a way.

It's no secret that my Vietnamese language fluency is limited. It's usually the first thing I say to any Vietnamese person I meet at home and abroad. For the first couple weeks I struggled and I continue to struggle, but with a little creativity and a desire to connect anything is possible. That's what language is, a tool to communicate and connect. There are plenty of people who speak the same language and fail to understand one another. Life here is teaching me how to communicate with people beyond any spoken language. I am full of gratitude.

*Photo: Sunset at beach in Danshuei, TW