I forget how hard the last few weeks and months are before you leave a place. It seems like everything in your normal everyday routine is in upheaval as you prepare to leave, and that the days are filled with lasts and goodbyes. Today, I had a formal tea party (something I usually do for my birthday every year, although this year it just didn't happen), as sort of a farewell activity for both myself and my teammate, Laura, whose family is flying out of Bolivia to return stateside in a mere 2 weeks. I asked everyone to bring something 'inspiring' that was related to friendship, saying goodbye, transition etc. One of my friends, Angie, wrote the following poem. You can find it on her
website.
Tejidas
by @NGIE on OCTOBER 19, 2010
Mamita de cara curtida
El aguayo en tu espalda
Sonríes aun cargada
Contenta con tu jornada
-
See the mountains that grow high above our heads
Bent down low to the earth the Bolivian woman is small
She lays the woven fabric on the ground
Then in those colored threads she lays her burdens
A fold, a twist, a swing and the thing she flings
Upon her sturdy back nestles on her shoulders
-
Tucked from view, hidden in the yarn
There in the dark a protected bit of her life
Precious baby, her wares or some goods
-
How does she face the monotony of the daily haul?
Does she fuss or complain
Trudging through market, street, bus and barrio?
-
Her cloth, el aguayo
Traditional weave, el tejido
Of coarse hairs of the herd
Of her land
-
See the looming mount standing in our path calling itself change
Bent down low to the earth I weep small prayers
Laid before me the fabric of my life, the people dear to me
Then in those diverse folds of humanity I lay my burdens
My love, my fears, my pains and joys, the things I fling
Upon my back made sturdy by living, I let it all settle in
-
Tucked from view, hidden in the threads
There in the dark a protected bit of life
Precious family, work or dear friends
-
How do I face the relentless change of the daily haul?
Do I fuss or complain
Labored steps crossing the street; crossing the world?
-
My cloth, el aguayo
Traditions woven, las tejidas
Coarse prayers are heard
Of clasped hands
-
You the red with the firey passion
You the blue with the calm reflection
You the green with the new ambition
You the yellow with the warm welcome
You the pink with the staying smile
You the black with the tenacious style
You the purple, happy through the trial
-
You are wrapped around me
Woven through me
-
The dust ground in the tiny overlaps of existence
Wetted by the rains and stayed by the wind
The strings stained permanent
A reminder that the only thing that doesn’t change
Is that things always change
-
I grasp for what I know, fingering the familiar knots
Holding on tight as my neck is choked by the haul
That familiar pain of strain in the bones pulls at the soul
-
The woman, the bearer
Bears in her womb posterity
Bears on her shoulders life
Borne in her heart the elation and devastation of love
-
The woman gratefully wraps the aguayo around her body
She knows it weighs her down
But its contents are the sustenance of life
-
So I embrace the changes before me
Or rather let them embrace my heaving frame
For these are the tejidas of life
Thanks for sharing, Angie.
