Shared Life

by Brooke*

When we walked down the railroad tracks toward Joma’s house for lunch, one of our friends took her shoes in her hand so that she could walk more easily on the railroad beams. As soon as she had removed her ill-equipped shoes, Joma stopped her. She swiftly removed her own sandals and handed them to our friend saying, “Wear these! You’ll be able to walk in these.” Joma insisted she take and wear the shoes, lest her guest’s feet be injured by the tracks. Joma would rather have walked barefoot a mile down the tracks herself than have one of her friends walk without shoes.

Living in a foreign language, I do not always have the words to express how I feel or what I think. So I’ve picked up on cultural norms, such as consciously resting my arm on the lady’s leg sitting next to me during morning devotion—it’s a gesture which shows that I am comfortable with her and want to be near to her; it’s a way of acknowledging her presence, and a way of speaking “togetherness” without words.

Yesterday we were sitting at Sari Bari: stitching bags, sewing on patches, sewing on the machine, when the storytelling began from one of the ladies sewing. She had heard this story in her childhood, one of many from her grandmother who used to tell her stories when she couldn’t sleep. She wished she could remember more stories. Another woman chimed in: “My grandmother told me a story when I was young—I had been crying, so she began to tell me a story. The other kids in our family wanted her to tell stories, but she didn’t always. My grandma was beautiful, so beautiful.” I loved hearing how these ladies had been loved in their childhood; I realized later that they had drawn me into their community through the sharing of these words—simply by telling bits of their life and allowing me to listen. To listen to the stories that calmed their sleepless nights, the stories that swallowed their tears.

We create community in spaces spent together. Moments spent sitting next to each other during morning gathering, time spent sitting at work repairing product, time spent walking along the path to our destination. Sometimes it’s through the small and seemingly insignificant moments of a day that community is discovered; a discovery that someone is beside you and willing to share life with you.