Week VIII - Day 7

In His Own Words

In the weeks following my fall in the mud, Michael began to think about how we were getting old. He openly expressed his concern for me becoming disabled in some sort of way. Here is what he had to say about the various ways that I could become disabled and his thoughts on the difficulties of seeing me through:

“If you injured yourself in a way where you could not walk, I’d be okay with that. It’d be hard to lift you but, I would be fine assisting you.

If you injured yourself in a way where you lost your sense of hearing, I’d be okay with that too. Because if something bad was going down, you would be able to get away.

If you injured yourself in a way where you lost your vision, I’d have a difficult time with that…I would not be able to leave your side. I’d be so worried about someone trying to take advantage of you and you would not know how to get away. “

While I listened to him share his thoughts on me and the possibilities of becoming disabled, his face was solemn and his voice wavered. He spoke in a hushed tone so as not to have the horrible things he spoke of actually come to life. It was as if he'd been dealing with such horrible thoughts for a long time and discussing them actually frightened him. The ghosts of his mind were there before him as he shared and it made me feel helpless. 

When I think of bad things happening to either of us or the kids, I dare not speak them out loud. I just deal with the negative thoughts on my own and try not to worry him. Holding on to the unspoken darkness is not an easy task. So, it was quite surreal to listen to him go through all the ways he's imagined me getting hurt. It was unbearable to watch his body language and hear his deepest concerns. I couldn't listen anymore and thankfully, I was not recording. 

I changed the subject to a conversation we had a week prior. We were debating the meaning of the letters “HW” in front of the Mayor of Juba’s name. Michael was holding to “Honorable Wani” the mayor’s last name. I told him that he was wrong and that it stood for “His Worship” - thank you David Herrera. Finally, we heard the phrase “your worship” uttered the day of the wedding and we just gave each other side-eye. 

A young man had come to the hotel and the Mayor of Bor was there waiting for his wife. The young man greeted the mayor and said, "Your Worship...it is great to see you." Michael’s jaw dropped! He was completely shocked at the use of the phrase. Meanwhile, I was thinking, "If he'd kept in touch with his people during his 25+ year stay in the US, he'd have known about the use of such titles." Anyway, I was right and he could not believe it and at the same time was a bit disappointed by the use of the title.

Later (this particular morning he's discussing all the ways I could become injured) we looked at one another and said, “So what does that make us?” We began talking about what the letters HW could stand for in front of our names. I told him I already had a title for HW - House Wife. 

Being the comedian he can be at times; Michael decided to change the letters and came up with a new meaning to describe our current state. You know; living in South Sudan without a home or jobs by choice. He then said, “Maybe we can be 'HR' for the Honorable Retards!"

Now I know that the term is politically incorrect and a offensive to some but, we laughed so hard that we cried. Who else leaves the comfort of the United States to walk down streets full of human shit, empty water bottles, and dogs in heat? The answer is us! Hence the reference to ourselves as HR.

The somberness of the previous minutes had changed for good and we were laughing uncontrollably. Just as he did not like to think of ways that I could potentially become injured, I did not like to see him with so much pain in his eyes thinking about it. I've learned that laughter is the best medicine for the two of us: especially during times of distress.