Goodbyes

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.