The Voice of "Real"

'What is REAL?' asked the Rabbit one day, 'Does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a stick-out handle?'

'Real isn't how you are made,' said the Skin Horse. 'It's a thing that happens to you…’

'Does it happen all at once, like being wound up,' he asked, 'or bit by bit?'

'It doesn't happen all at once,' said the Skin Horse. 'You become’

In the Velveteen Rabbit, the process of becoming real is a painful one: hair falls off, eyes drop out, joints are loosened and become shabby. Amidst the pain however, is something beautiful.

Two experiences this past weekend reminded me of the beauty (and the pain) associated with something “becoming real”. I attended an HIV/AIDS conference in Kamphaengphet, Thailand together with other Peace Corps Volunteers and our Thai counterparts. Dr. John Williams, the country director, opened the conference by sharing a story of a young child he had met many years earlier in Eastern Europe. The child, a 12 year old boy named Marios, was endowed with a spirit that revealed itself magnificently through twinkling eyes and an infectious smile. Marios was one of the top students in his school, was a talented artist who enjoyed water colors, and was such a joy to be around with. Marios was also HIV positive.

Despite his illness, Marios zest for life served as a constant reminder of how life should be lived and he had the gift for inspiring this very truth in the hearts of the people he met. Dr. John happened to be one of the lucky ones. Inspiration however, was not the only gift Dr. John received from Marios. At the end of their meeting, Marios gave Dr. John some of his paintings and his most prized possession—an easter egg painted for him by a friend, with his name inscribed in it. “Remember me” Marios told Dr. John.

Not too long after their meeting, Marious succumbed to the disease.

The story in itself was powerful but it was listening to Dr. John share the story and watching him read from a journal entry written after meeting Marios that struck me most. The way his hands shook while holding the paper; the love and sincerity he carried in his voice as he reread the words he wrote many years ago; the thoughtfulness with which he shared Marios story with our group made me realize that he was not just telling us a story but was, in a special way, sharing Mario’s easter egg with us. He was also fulfilling Marios’ request.

I did not get to ask him—though I suspect this to be true—that a big part of who Dr. John is today; his passion for his work; his outlook on the world—is largely due to a little child with sparkling eyes and an infectious smile and a spirit much larger than his frail body who taught Dr. John a special lesson—and a very real one at that—on the day they met.

The 2nd incident happened on the way home. It was hour 7 of my 12 hour bus ride back to site. I was jotting down thoughts on the power an experience can lend to a person’s voice when I got a call from my friend Tara. After catching up for a bit, I told her about Dr. John’s story and how it had struck me. Tara then told me her own story.

A few months earlier, a student of hers lost his mother to AIDS. The student, a 4th grade boy, was HIV positive himself. It was understood at the time of the mother’s death that the child was to live with his aunt. Somewhere along the way, responsibilities for the child were passed on to his grandmother who, at the time, was also taking care of another grandchild. Before the student could move in with his grandmother, the rest of the family entered the picture and saw to it that the student would not move in for fear that the disease would spread unto the other child and ultimately around the family. The child now lives alone in an empty house and while the grandfather comes every night to sleep in the house, he does so in another room. Given the strong communal culture of Thailand, especially in the rural villages—where families (even extended families) tend to all sleep together—the grandfather staying in a different room pretty much serves to show how ostracized this kid has become.

Tara told me how she cried as she found out more about the situation. Tara of course, like many people, was well aware of the stigma placed on people with HIV and AIDS around the world due to a lack of education about the disease on the part of communities. But, just as is the case with many people, until the issue becomes very real—until people see the ugliness of the stigma up close, affecting someone people actually know—the issue remains as just another sad issue. The very moment she learned about the situation, Tara told me, the issue suddenly became personal…and very real. “I just wanted to take the kid and make his life better” she said.
I have a strong feeling she will and I’ll explain why in a bit.

These 2 experiences stand out from a weekend that was full of inspiration and learning. I wrote these words just before Tara called me,
“we share a lot by giving facts…we perhaps share more by giving stories”
And
“It is when an issue becomes real to us that we acquire the voice to speak about it and touch more than just the mind…we also touch the heart”

This is exactly what happened this weekend. Dr. John and Tara were already involved in meaningful development work but the experiences they shared with me were the very experiences that put a human face on the issue and made it much more real to them. This is why I’m optimistic that Tara will do exactly what she said she wanted to do—make this kid’s life better. Knowing her, Tara will do great things in her village (in fact, she’s started developing a youth group in her community that will work with people affected by AIDS) but now, the importance of AIDS education is no longer just an issue for her. It is very real. The process of it becoming real was not pretty—in fact, it was a painful story—but I know the result will be an even more passionate commitment to educating people.

As for Dr. John, he keeps a picture of a little kid with huge eyes and a smile full of joy, grace and a hint of mischief on his desk—a great and very real source of inspiration for his important work.

These 2 stories remind me of why I love that particular section from the Velveteen Rabbit. They also makes me appreciate the position I am in as a volunteer where I get to experience—first hand—a way of life that not too many people from where I come from get to experience. I also appreciate being in the field with other volunteers—people I consider friends—who are also going through the same things and are able to share their stories with me. These stories are sometimes painful, often beautiful, and always real.


P.S. As I was writing this, I found myself getting super excited that Caitlin and I are doing similar work. As she lives longer in Uganda and I live longer in Thailand, I can only imagine how much we will both experience. I look forward to exchanging stories with her and listening as our voices, when speaking of issues about HIV/AIDS, poverty, gender and development become all the more powerful. I look forward to seeing how our experience in the Peace Corps helps us “become” and shapes us as individuals and as a couple.