Albinism--The Documentary

It is quite rare that I watch television. I watch the morning news every day and find myself watching The Unit on Sundays. This weekend was an exception to the rule. Before heading to Zumba class on Saturday morning, I watched a documentary on Albinism.  The documentary highlighted the torment and bullying that happens to children who are Albino in the United States. One girl had done an extreme make-over to “fit in.” She had her hair, eyebrows, and eye lashes dyed. She at least had the resources to do that.

The most shocking thing that I learned from this documentary was that in Tanzania, there are groups of people who are “hunting” Albino people. Their limbs and hair are cut off to be used in a witch doctor’s potions. It is believed that the parts haves special healing and longevity powers. The woman featured in this part of the documentary had a child of her own. Her arms had been cut off at the elbows. Prosthetics had been given to her, but they hurt her too bad for her to wear them. She couldn’t clothe, bathe, or feed herself, let alone care for her child. She was brought to the United States to have prosthesis made especially for her. She learned how to put them on herself and how to use the two hooks that she would use as her hands.

There was a journalist who went in undercover and told the story about a woman who had four children. The woman was threatened by a group of hunters. They demanded the albino 7- month old. They told her if she screamed, they would kill her other three children too. Could you imagine being in this situation? Her baby was killed and her other three children survived.

There are schools and safe places for the albino children to stay. These places are in desperate need of resources of things that I take for granted like hats to protect them from the sun.

Aren’t we especially lucky?

Fund-Raising

Let me preface this post with the fact that every single person that I come in contact with becomes an opportunity to blog. Eventually the interactions sink in and I begin to process what was actually communicated. I was struck by a conversation that I had with someone recently. It was more of a short dialogue in passing. It has stuck with me longer than conversations of that nature typically do. The conversation began with the generic opening greetings. The other person in the conversation asked me if the company I work for would be taking residents to a specific performance. I let them know that, indeed, we would be taking residents to the program on the “Senior Day.” The other person replied, “its so interesting that the people who have money attend the program that is free.” I didn’t have a reply to that at that moment. My ‘keep the peace’ frame of mind was engaged. It later occurred to me that perhaps our residents could afford to give back in other ways because they took advantage of what they qualified for now, being “seniors” and all.

Later that same day another person spoke about one of our residents and how wonderful the resident is. I concurred that this resident had done a lot for the Spokane Community. I didn’t appreciate the way that this person came a crossed when discussing the resident with me. The value of the resident seemed to be only recognized by the amount of money that had been donated to various organizations throughout Spokane.

Are we all just a dollar sign? Does the person who volunteered for hours to provide companionship to the lonely have any less value than those who donate tons of fiscal resources to change the way visions evolve?

These conversations served as great reminders to value everyone, not only for their resources but for their being.  We all have something very special and significant to offer the world.

Nicknames & Help

I've had quite a few nicknames in my 34 years of life. I'm sure that I can't recall them all. It seems that friends/family who spend the most time with me or did at one point in my life have come up with quite a selection of endearing terms for me. See below for a less than extensive list:

Mon
Mo
Moniqua
Monny
Mo Mo
Mo-Nanna
Red arm
Bunny head
Malibu Barbie
Buttercup
Princess
Mon Mon the Bon Bon

One of the most challenging things for me to do is ask for help. I say this because it relates to the fact that readers of this blog have said to me that they've posted comments and I'm unable to see them. Does anyone else see comments? If so, don't tell me here. Tell me on Facebook. :) And if you have any problem-solving strategies for me to employ, by all means I welcome your assistance. Your feedback is extremely important to me.