The Day of the Kittens

It has taken me a while to share this post.  It was written back in July, towards the end of my Pre-Service Training (PST).  It can be so hard to be so vulnerable.  But today, today I am ready.  I am OK to bare it all.  You see, for one reason or another, today I have decided that you love me.  In the past I might have instead thought that you may find me interesting but perhaps odd, perhaps wish I was a different way.  Or more likely, that you don't really like me.  But not today.  From now on you love me.  And regardless of all of that, whatever you do feel is your business, and none of mine.  But in my mind, yes, you love me as I love you.
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Monday was a strange one.  It never ceases to amaze me the way that the Universe delivers messages....

I decided to take a different route to school for my Russian lesson.  I left early so I would have time to check my email at a Wi-Fi spot near the town market and to look over my homework before class.  I like to be prepared.  But certainly we cannot be prepared for everything.

It was about 7:50AM and I spotted a small dog in the road.  I spoke to him in the baby voice I tend to take on when talking to animals, as if they just might understand me. At the least it must be some way to convey that I am there to love and nurture and not harm.  Well this little pup, though I thought was cool with me, decided to give me a little nip in the back of my leg after I had passed him.  What?  I whipped around, threw my hands in the air and said, “Ayyy!  Pachemu?”  (Russian transliteration for “why?”).  He just stood there looking at me, wagging his tail as if nothing had happened. 

A few steps ahead, I stumbled upon what I believe the Universe was “preparing me" for, a message my heart was ready to receive.  Since I had already had my run-in with dog #1, all dogs and small things moving were pronounced and calling my attention.  I quickly spotted another dog that seemed to be sniffing and pushing around with his nose a little bird of some sort.  But wait…if it was a bird it would fly away.  I picked up my pace.  It was no bird but a very small kitten.  And the events that unfold from here.

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I saw that the kitten was so small and figured it must have been born very recently.  I shooed away the dog and began to look around, perhaps hoping to spot the mother.  But something else had caught my attention-a sound.  It sounded like crying…it was coming from the dumpster.  Could there be more kittens in there?  I bent to look more closely at the small kitten and noticed she was very dirty.    I was a sort of afraid to touch her, what if she was sick?  Could I get sick?  But she was in the road and crying so I quickly swept her to the grass before heading to investigate the dumpster.  I followed the sound to find another small kitten on top of the trash heap.  This kitten was in much worse shape than the first.  I saw some blood in its neck.  This kitten was crying so loudly and trying so hard to move, “anywhere but here” it seemed to be calling.  I agreed.  You will die small being, anywhere but here.  I found a plastic bag in my lunch sack and used it to scoop up the kitten from the dumpster and transferred it to a shady spot in the grass under a tree down the road a couple of meters.  It didn’t cease the cry or to stop writhing.  With legs that seemed broken, this little creature, so new to the world and yet so close to leaving, had no balance.  The emotions which had been brimming like a cup about to overflow, came.  My cup runneth over.

The other kitten, who was moving with some health but whose tail shook with the trauma of her situation, moved to my side and there she stayed.  I cracked open a boiled egg from my lunch giving half to the healthy kitten and placing half with the dying kitten.  Both tried to eat but the dying kitten soon lost the energy to try and the healthy one seemed to choose being close to me over the immediate nourishment.  I began to cry.  “It’s OK little one, it’s OK to surrender.  It’s OK to go.  Just close your eyes and be at peace”, I told the dying kitten.  I began to pray, “Please God, take this small creature of yours into your hands and ease her suffering.  Please let her feel your love and help her to surrender to the peace that is to come.”  And the other kitten was climbing up my leg, desperate to have some protection, something to hold on to.  Together we went to my bag for water to wash the sick kitten of filth and blood.  How did this happen?  The sick kitten cried as I bathed her and slowly she began to inch towards the plastic bag with which I had carried her.  Her head resting inside the bag, and the healthy kitten curled upon my foot.  I sang a bhajan I had learned at the ashram:Mother Ma 

Mother Ma Mother Ma Mother Ma
Be with me, Be with me, Be with me, Be with me
Set me free, set me free, set me free
Mother set me free….

With one life passing, and another so fragile looking for some comfort and nourishment, somewhere to belong, I began to see the message.

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My parents moved from my childhood home on Sunday.  They walked out the doors of the home where they raised their three children, one last time.  They pulled out of the driveway where we played tennis and basketball, one last time. 

In the dying kitten, as one life was passing, I saw my old life, and parts of my ‘self’ that were indeed, passed on.  “Tell her it’s OK to let go…”  And in the healthy kitten, I can see parts of myself now: healthy enough and trying to make it.  Perhaps a little roughed up, a little naïve and scared, yet strong and capable. 
As I departed from my childhood home in June, from the country where I have lived for 29 years, from my friends and family, one life passed.  And as I prepare to swear in as a Peace Corps Volunteer in a strange land surrounded by new people and places, I will pray for nourishment and I will dole out all I have to offer.  Surrendering to the cycle of life. 

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I could see the sick kitten's breathing becoming less labored-slower, calmer.  I picked up the healthy one, knowing I could not take her with me, that I had no more to offer her than this short time of love, and I laid her next to the sick one.  In my mind they stayed together until the one passed.  I quickly picked up my bag and walked to class.

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Sometimes the messages are harder to hear and sometimes they are loud and clear.  The key is to listen.  Can you hear?

I dedicate this post to the people of Moldova, whom I hope will take me in like the small kitten and whom I hope to nourish in return.

 Om tat sat.

All in This Together?

I went out this morning to buy a new hair-dryer.  The first one I bought (used from a leaving volunteer) had melted from the inside out during my recent gig as a counselor at as a girl's empowerment camp. We were a lot of girls and we needed dry hair!  The campground where we stayed was built for summer use and so our autumn descent on the premises created some challenges-mostly towards being warm enough.  And so the hair dryers were necessary for anyone planning to shower.  Overuse and age in combination with the inexplicably strong electrical current that seems to spew from some outlets here in Moldova, was simply too much for my little machine. 

I didn't bring a hair-dryer to Peace Corps for two reasons.  Number one was the electrical current and adapter issue and number two I was hoping to "not need" this modern day tool for "beauty"-you know, in my village/hut/milking cows life.  And since I now DO need one, I had to shop.  The store where I decided to purchase my glorious heat machine was across the street from the Balti Primaria (mayor's office and where the city officials work).  There was a large gathering outside of the building, at least 100 people, and a man standing on a box speaking into a megaphone in Russian something about utilities, payments, and otherwise I am not sure.  I'm pretty sure these were my other sitemate Ross's neighbors.

Ross lives in an apartment building as do Laela and I.  However, unlike us, Ross's heat hasn't been turned on yet.  He is quite literally freezing in his apartment.  He got a space heater for the meantime but what was frustrating him more than the cold is the reason why the heat had not been turned on and further, that he couldn't find out the real reason.  Finally last night, his landlord who lives in a village outside of the city, came to investigate and told Ross there would be a gathering the following day at the mayor's office to get some answers.
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Moldova is a former Soviet Republic.  A lot of the infrastructure here was built during that time.  The current Republic is the poorest country in all of Europe and there hasn't been much work done to improve this dinosaur of a system.  Let's look at how this problem is affecting Ross and his neighbors:  the apartment buildings we all live in are known as "Soviet Bloc Apartments".  Unlike in the States or other countries with more recent development, these apartments are linked to one main heating system.  This means that no one apartment has any control over their own heat.  There is a governing body (who I have no idea) who decides when to turn on the heat (after so many days of the temperature being below so many degrees-the actual I again have not a clue and can't seem to find one answer), how high it should be, and when it will be turned off.  The tenant simply receives the bill.  Now we can see where the obvious problems with this system are.  Let's look at some of the issues that come to mind:

Conditioning
Number one, this is no longer a communist nation yet this system of controlling utilities is completely communist with a big ugly twist; you have to pay for it.  So imagine now you have a babushka (grandmother) living in the same apartment since she was a teenager (fifty years ago).  For the large majority of her life she never paid these bills because it was "taken care of" by the government.  Times change and now she is responsible for this bill.  Does she pay it?  Does that register with her after a lifetime of a different way of acting...of thinking.  Because even if she doesn't pay, the heat stays on.

Opportunists
Does the single mother whose husband is in another country driving a truck or building infrastructure for richer nations even have the money to cover this bill? If she does, if her husband is sending back what amounts to a lot of money in Moldova, does she?  Because even if she doesn't, the heat stays on.

Fatalists
Similar to the issue of conditioning, a predominant thought in Russia has long been fatalist.  Whether this way of thinking came to Moldova with the communist regime or if it just became stronger I am not sure (but wanting and willing to look into), but if one has the thought that it doesn't matter what they do, they cannot effect the whole, will they take responsibility for their own lives let alone for the lives of others? Because even if they don't, the heat stays on.

Poverty
Unlike in the US or other more developed nations, there are people living on very little right next door to someone who is doing quite well.  Their apartments have been passed down through generations and since this whole architecture was put together at a time where everyone was "equal", there were no class divisions.  No rich people/poor people buildings.  It was ALL government housing.  And so now, after twenty years of free markets, you literally have some people in the building who can and do pay their heating bills and some who simply cannot.  The money is just not there. So then who pays?

What Ross thinks happened in his building was that there were far too many people with passed-due heat debts.  And so it wasn't turned on.  Perhaps it is a way to communicate to the people in his building that they HAD to pay their bills, no more letting it slip.  No more handouts.  Is this tough love?  Perhaps for some, but torture for others.  What about those with no debt like Ross?  How fair is that for him?  And so the cyclical questioning of "where do old ways hamper us and how can we possibly afford to get out of them?" occurs.  How can these people come together to ensure everyone is paying for their heat?  Should they even have to do this?  It's like involuntarily living in a commune. 
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There is a lot of foreign money coming into a place like Moldova.  This is in the forms of foreign aid and remittances from citizens working overseas.  Wouldn't it make sense to combine these investments into helping people to physically live in a way that doesn't continuously remind them of their communist past, that doesn't encourage the kind of thinking that takes away personal responsibility?

Two ideas at a more micro level:

1).  Renovating the current systems to give individual control over one's heat.   This involves a lot of material and workforce investment and would also create a lot of jobs. OR

2).  Assisting to develop communities within these buildings where the citizens work together to solve the issues of debt and do what needs doing to ensure each person can take care of their bills and if not form some sort of loan/assistance/social program. 

And from the WAY "macrocosmic" view I cannot help but see, it's truly an issue of the individual vs. the whole.  Are we all in this together?  Though I haven't fully developed the idea yet, here is another concept I am researching:

Is it better if people:

• Do what is best for one's self in order to contribute positively to the greater good? For example taking good care of your health and home so that you have energy to contribute to the whole.

or

• Do what is best for the greater good in order to positively contribute to your own life?  For example helping to create better public policy, being an honest public servant, creating businesses that respect the earth and its people.

What do you think works best?  I see that it's a balance of each.  But are we living in different imbalances in different cultures as a whole?

XOm