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RO - Part VIII

20 · Oct · 2000

sighi night.jpg

Sighisoara
Living in Sighisoara opened up a different world for me. Obviously, being around other young Americans was good. We had somewhat similar feelings about being in a foreign country and not having the luxury of television forced us to entertain each other by playing games and talking. A few times we stayed up late playing Truth, or 20 questions, which are excellent ways to get to know people. Being stripped of the things that normally help us distance ourselves from each other, left nothing but honesty and an easy path to discover our real selves. Sometimes, all we did was tell each other things we missed about home. Sometimes we talked for hours about how much we loved the kids we worked with at the spital, the orphanage or the kids like Carmen and her sisters.

During that time, my relationship with Carmen, Daniella, Genica, and Camellia deepened as well. Carmen was my constant companion, even spending a day with me when I got sick. I had gone to David and Nat’s house and on the way began feeling ill. By the time I arrived, I had chills and felt I couldn’t move. Since David was leaving for the day, I lay on his bed and prepared to be incapacitated for a 24 hour flu. Nat gave me his copy of Of Mice and Men to read, which I did. When she heard I was ill, Carmen stopped by and...... stayed. Since my Romanian was so limited, our time together was mostly spent smiling at each other, saying things like “This is a good day. It’s cold outside. I’m sleepy. That’s beautiful. How are you?” That day that I was sick, I drifted in and out of sleep and every time I opened my eyes, I saw her sitting in a chair smiling at me. Watching over me, I guess.

I was always amazed at how generous the girls were. There are kids who have great parents and still become selfish. And there is Carmen and her sisters with so little guidance, who held my hand as I walked through the most difficult time in my life up until then. They have no idea how they inspired me.

sighi square.jpg

Living with Dorothy was also an enormous relief. Because I was not one of her students, Dorothy and I were able to talk freely. Unlike my previous housemates, she took steps to make me feel welcome, doing things like leaving me a package of my favorite hot chocolate on my pillow and giving me a wool Romanian sweater of hers that I liked. We had great conversations in that month. I looked on Dorothy as my mentor. Her independence and willingness to traverse through Romania, simply because God told her to, baffled and amazed me. She represented intelligence and strength and she challenged me to become a better woman, to really do something with my life. I was always tickled to see how her college students misunderstood her. They did not hear Dorothy talk about lost loves from her past or the funny stories regarding her family back in the UK. There is a different, even mischievous side to Dorothy that is often overlooked by those who first come to know her as “Professor”.

I was lucky to hear both sides of the college students’ Romanian experience. Dorothy talked about her concerns with the students and they, in turn, spoke to me about how they felt and what they hoped to make of their time away from their real lives. Every student was unique, the cream of the crop from Eastern Nazarene College. Not the best students in the traditional sense. Maybe they weren’t the people who spoke at graduation or the ones voted most likely to succeed by their classmates. But they proved themselves to be the kind of people who come through in a crunch – young men and women who sacrificed 4 months of their lives at a time when most people their age were only thinking of who to date or what restaurant to go to next. No, these people who became my friends, got up in the morning, dressed in cold rooms, bathed in shallow tubs, struggled with a new language and culture, far, far away from the safety of home to be with the smelly, unlovely, yet beautiful children in Sighisoara, Romania.

And they participated in other ENC founded programs too, such as the geriatric program for less capable, elderly. There was also CoffeeHouse – a weekly makeshift American style gathering of the ENC students and local high school students. The high school students were given extra points in English class for showing up and talking (in English) with us. Dorothy and other ENC students also taught English Club in the afternoons to grade school children. Some of the street children attended English Club as well. In the promotional video for the ENC Romania studies program Dorothy mentions that the possibilities for social work in Sighisoara are limited only by the volunteers imagination.

Coffee House, The Street Children’s Programme and the Edge at Radio Total were all founded by those in our group from 1995. Each program was organised from an idea into reality, within the unfamiliar tedious Romanian framework. Whenever I watch MTV’s The Real World or Road Rules, it reminds me of us back then. What do you get when you take 15 strangers, put them in Romania for 4 months, take away all the comforts of home and ask them to help each other and the community around them? That’s when people stop “making nice” and get real!

Music

Aside from working at Radio Total, it was quickly confirmed that music is an international language, not just between Romanians and Americans, but also with all the American students who came from various states. Songs play in my mind from each person or event, carrying those many emotions I was experiencing for the first time. So attached are some songs to those memories that when I hear them even today, I can easily become overwhelmed with the emotion of those days. Maybe some of you have seen me tear up while on a long drive and a song comes on the radio. Or maybe I have mentioned how much I love a song and then glazed over lost in thought, while it played.

Three particular CDs are especially enamoured with those bittersweet days. One day I was at David, Nat and Thom’s house and we were all sitting around the kitchen talking. We were listening to the Counting Crows August and Everything After CD and when the song Raining in Baltimore came on, we all became so reflective, softly singing along, but at the same time, I felt we were completely unified. The words rang out

“These train conversations are passing me by /And I don't have nothing to say
You get what you pay for / But I just had no intention of living this way
I need a phone call
I need a plane ride
I need a sunburn
I need a raincoat
There's things I remember and things I forget / I miss you / I guess that I should
Three thousand five hundred miles away / But what would you change if you could?
I need a phone call
Maybe I should buy a new car
I can always hear a freight train
If I listen real hard
And I wish it was a small world / Because I'm lonely for the big towns
I'd like to hear a little guitar / I think it's time to put the top down”

Even when the song ended, we sat there a little longer, maybe not wanting the moment to end.

I would sing along to some of these songs in the mornings when I was alone and think about what effect this experience would have on me throughout my life.

And lastly, the CD that became somewhat of the theme music for many others and me was Sarah McLaughlin’s Fumbling Toward Ecstasy. One night David and I sat relaxing with Matt and Anita in their apartment, with only candles for light and listened to this CD over and over. We talked about what the songs meant to us, and in particular the song “ Elsewhere” I asked them what they thought of when they heard this song and I will never forget Anita’s response. She said she thought of a particular child at the orphanage and the feeling of holding him close, knowing that none of her friends and family would understand why this was heaven to her. Today, as I look back, I realise those are the perfect words to describe that time in my life and what it has come to mean to me.

Elsewhere -

I love the time and in between the calm inside me in the space where I can breathe
I believe there is a distance I have wandered to touch upon the years of
reaching out
and reaching in
holding out
holding in.

I believe
this is heaven to no one else but me
and I'll defend it as long as
I can be
left here to linger
in silence
if I choose to
would you
try to understand.

I know this love is passing time passing through like liquid
I am drunk in my desire
but I love the way you smile at me
I love the way your hands reach out and hold me near…

I believe..
I believe
this is heaven to no one else but me
and I'll defend it as long as
I can be
left here to linger
in silence
if I choose to
would you
try to understand

Oh the quiet child awaits the day
when she can break free
the mold that clings like desperation.

Mother can't you see I've got to live my life the way I feel is
right for me
might not be right for you but it's right for me..

I believe...
I would … like to… linger … here in… silence
if I … choose to… would you … try to …
understand...


The Other Side of Despair
Something strange began to happen to me in that last month. I got on the Metro and did not feel out of place. I looked forward to conversations with strangers on the train. I enjoyed my walk to the center square. I started saying “Buna Ziwa!” to old women I passed in the street. I didn’t get caught up so much in the ugliness, because once I saw the beauty, it was so intense, I was ashamed it escaped me before. It was Nick who pointed out to me that I was coming to a peak in the up and down road of adjusting to a new culture. In short, I was starting to like it there. I learned a valuable lesson then that I suppose many missionaries and other world travelers are privy to. Getting over yourself is the key to open a door in your heart that otherwise remains closed. Behind that door is your capacity to love.

David
It would take a novel to describe the friendship and love that I found in David Tarrant. And even then, I would not be satisfied. When Nick and I broke up and I moved to Sighisoara, I developed a friendship with David, who is Dorothy’s nephew. David came over for a visit from his home in Scotland and was not part of the ENC programme. We hit it off immediately and much of my last days in Romania were spent with him and Matt & Anita. David’s way of talking and writing make each word sound like poetry. His imagination is incredible and we would often joke about running away together whenever things got stressful. Sighisoara was the perfect backdrop for our wildly romantic dreams.
One night, when there was to be a full moon, a few of us went to the top of a hill with a beautiful view and each of us was to display a talent. Long after Matt and Anita sang “Ice Cream”, I read poetry and Nat performed a Shakespearean monologue, David and I stayed long into the night staring up at the sky and talking. Suddenly, I glanced up to notice a very small black creature with black eyes and antennas sitting on David’s shoulder. Trying to remain calm, I pulled my hand into my sleeve and told him to stay still while I knocked this creature off. I hit it once, but it held on, so I hit it again. He felt the weight fall and we both jumped up screaming. The hardest part was describing to him what I saw. Yes, I saw antennae. A bat, we later figured out. We laughed every time we retold the story.

As you can guess, not everyone embraced our relationship. Though David and I was aware of the reality of our seven year age difference and miles between our home countries, Dorothy was understandably cautious and asked that we try not to distance ourselves from the rest of the group. However, to her credit, she never made me feel that I was being foolish nor did she dismiss my feelings. If anything, she was understanding and tolerant. I am grateful still for her support, because over the years, David and I have remained close friends. We have encouraged each other through many phases of our lives including college, marriage, family, self-discovery and an even deeper investigation of our relationships with God. Even when I have clearly made the wrong decision, David continued to love me just as I am.
----------------------------------------------------
By the time my last week in Romania came, I was even feeling a bit emotional about leaving the Scott’s. Though we had our differences, the Scott’s were doing their best under strained circumstances. I was not adequately prepared to deal with a new culture. And they were not prepared for someone outside the realm of normal missionary procedure. I had fallen through the cracks. And who was to blame for that? We all were.

Perhaps they could have been more accommodating. I would have liked for someone to take my sadness seriously and not merely as a phase I would soon get over. Perhaps I could have been more understanding. Did I seriously expect an entire family and/or mission organisation to change for me? I wasn’t even a member of their church. And did I do much else besides complain the first 2 months?

Over the years, I have come to understand that what may be “right” and acceptable behavior in my eyes, is quite foreign to someone else. I cannot expect someone to understand my feelings based on the type of passport they possess anymore than I can expect all single women my age to have similar views on dating or all Christians to believe as I do about the church. Relationships, no matter how great or small, are at the mercy of our ability to compromise and communicate. Both these things I, regrettably, learned as of late.

***The conclusion of my Romania story is in the next memo.

Posted by Penny Rene at October 20, 2000 08:43 PM

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