Have you not heard of P.J. Funnybunny? Well then let me tell you. P.J. Funnybunny is a character from the book "It's Not Easy Being a Bunny." Poor P.J. is tired of eating cooked carrots everyday, the full squished house that he lives in with his many brothers and sisters, and especially his too-large ears! So P.J. decides to leave home and proceeds to visit other animals (possums, moose, beavers, skunks) to try to be like them. Of course my babies in Kenya had no context whatsoever for these animals. So when I asked them, "Why might P.J. not like being a skunk?" Blank stares. Remember your context, Teresa. You are in a place where children say, "MADAM, HE POLLUTED!" rather than, "Dude just ripped one."
I had read this story to my 4th graders, who sat eagerly at my feet on the dusty cement floor (our floors are forever dusty...side effect of being in a slum) soaking in the words and the whimsy of the story. It was precious to see them giggling about P.J.'s monstrous ears and distaste for carrots. My 6th graders seem a bit numb to excitement in general, a little too cool for school, leaning back against the wall and feigning disinterest, but I could see their eyes perking up and their necks straining a bit to see the pictures. I was surprised that when I read about how P.J. decides to leave home, one of my boys clicks his tongue and says, "Yeye ni mjinga," the translation being, "He is stupid." I asked him why and he said, "Because he chose to leave his clan." In Kenya, abandoning your clan, your home, your family is abandoning yourself. Without it, you have nothing.
Being in my late twenties (is 26 your late twenties?) I often get the question of, "So are you married? Do you have someone special in your life? Do you have children?" and once I answer all of those in the negative, it becomes, "So have you thought about becoming a sister?" People want to know what category to put me in, what box to check off for me. Where does this person belong? Is she a mother? A wife? A religious sister? And what happens when she is none of the above? Which leaves me asking, am I, like P.J. Funnybunny, an mjinga? Are we who search for ourselves, who do not know where we belong, who try new things, build new families, and perhaps return to where we started...are we lost? I think not. It is not for lack of values or lack of integrity, but rather knowing that our hearts are fuller the more people we welcome into the imperfection of ourselves, the more people we allow to shift our thinking and challenge our beliefs. There is a sanctity to doubt, a sacredness in questioning, a holiness in not knowing. It leaves us open to the mystery that is life, that is Love with a capital L. My roommate Judy (who is 73 and gets up at 4 AM to do yoga every morning) has told me that it doesn't get any easier as you get older, but that your internal compass, the honing mechanism inside you that somehow brings you closer to yourself, becomes fine-tuned. So I cast my lot with P.J., a fellow global nomad and all other doubters and pray that we do not fall prey to cynicism but find a way to doubt with hopeful hearts and open minds.
I had read this story to my 4th graders, who sat eagerly at my feet on the dusty cement floor (our floors are forever dusty...side effect of being in a slum) soaking in the words and the whimsy of the story. It was precious to see them giggling about P.J.'s monstrous ears and distaste for carrots. My 6th graders seem a bit numb to excitement in general, a little too cool for school, leaning back against the wall and feigning disinterest, but I could see their eyes perking up and their necks straining a bit to see the pictures. I was surprised that when I read about how P.J. decides to leave home, one of my boys clicks his tongue and says, "Yeye ni mjinga," the translation being, "He is stupid." I asked him why and he said, "Because he chose to leave his clan." In Kenya, abandoning your clan, your home, your family is abandoning yourself. Without it, you have nothing.
Being in my late twenties (is 26 your late twenties?) I often get the question of, "So are you married? Do you have someone special in your life? Do you have children?" and once I answer all of those in the negative, it becomes, "So have you thought about becoming a sister?" People want to know what category to put me in, what box to check off for me. Where does this person belong? Is she a mother? A wife? A religious sister? And what happens when she is none of the above? Which leaves me asking, am I, like P.J. Funnybunny, an mjinga? Are we who search for ourselves, who do not know where we belong, who try new things, build new families, and perhaps return to where we started...are we lost? I think not. It is not for lack of values or lack of integrity, but rather knowing that our hearts are fuller the more people we welcome into the imperfection of ourselves, the more people we allow to shift our thinking and challenge our beliefs. There is a sanctity to doubt, a sacredness in questioning, a holiness in not knowing. It leaves us open to the mystery that is life, that is Love with a capital L. My roommate Judy (who is 73 and gets up at 4 AM to do yoga every morning) has told me that it doesn't get any easier as you get older, but that your internal compass, the honing mechanism inside you that somehow brings you closer to yourself, becomes fine-tuned. So I cast my lot with P.J., a fellow global nomad and all other doubters and pray that we do not fall prey to cynicism but find a way to doubt with hopeful hearts and open minds.