" this short life "

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tonight i spent about an hour speaking with two maids, kid and mohn (both 17), who were preparing a thai dessert for monday. they're from laos. their eyes and bodies are trained to be held low, slumped, hidden, away and so slight that they mimic ghosts in their presence.

you see these two young displaced girls and what can you do? it's like the world becomes such a small place. everything seems unimportant, and your heart gives way. i look at their hands and their brown feet, and how they're so tired; the continuous cutting of foods, preparation of menus, cleaning, scrubbing, massaging, and washing creating rough surfaces on once-smooth palms and fingers. looking at their hands alone makes me break apart inside.

ever since i found out that they couldn't read, well all of the maids but kid, i've been trying to figure a way to teach them. this of course becomes increasingly difficult due to the fact that i myself cannot read. but i'm trying.

so i cannot read much? does it mean that i shouldn't do it? of course not. i printed out the alphabet on some recycled papers and gave it to them. you see their eyes absorbing the material and wanting to read, even though they show some hesitation. the presence of simple characters on the papers never seeming more important than in that moment; the letters representing not only the language, but a possibility for something greater than what they have.

i'm trying to show them that there is something else that can drive you but orders and the whims of our boss. and this is difficult; like i'm hiding a secret and if my boss found out, they would be punished. keep them dumb to make them better drones; their bodies only good for the skills placed upon the small expanse of their tiny shoulders.

they should be learning and interacting and doing anything and everything but these labor skills. working in this manner only creates a world where in the future, if they leave here before they give up on a better life, they only can do more labor work. but how can they do anything to better their situation, if everyone is speaking for them?

they're caught up in a life bound with back-alley deals, middlemen, and socio-cultural circumstances that do not allow for any options. it's in that lack of freedom that the sadness within me grows.

and i can do nothing except watch them and their sad faces attempt to crack a glimmer of a smile whenever i smile at them. just spending time with them allows them to release some of their inner tensions, so i let them talk on and on and on and make fun of me and talk smack and let them speak to each other in their own languages.

i'm not trying to be a savior or an authority. i just want them to know that not everyone in the world will treat them like they are just servants, or low or dumb or unimportant. i want them to see that they have the capacity to learn, and be better than they are.

it seems endless, the opportunity for them to plan what they could possibly do with the rest of their lives. unless they figure out that "life" doesn't have to be just working under someone for the rest of their lives, they will never gain some now-dormant self-confidence or reclaim the pride and self-awareness, which is systematically taken away from them every second of every day.

nothing about helping them to read simple characters is going to change much in the moment, but hopefully some support and encouragement in a direction other than to serve and clean, will show them that there is always a time, and a place to begin.

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