I just got off the bus from Evora. It is getting cold fast-down to about 45 degrees from the day’s high of 63 degrees-and dark, not surprising for early November. Dona Alena got off the bus with me. I have gotten to know Dona Alena a bit since she moved into the Patio, the small circle of homes where I live, a few weeks ago. Dona Alena is at least 70 years old, a small, slight wizened woman, who speaks no English at all but talks to me as if I understand her and she understands me. I have enjoyed chatting with her. Tonight though, I am worried. Dona Alena has a fever, 41 degrees Centigrade she told me, which is about 102 degrees I think; a real fever for an adult, and a cough that sounds like bronchitis. She was unsteady on her feet as we walked over the hill from the Convento, a beautiful old monastery that the University uses as a guest house and meeting center, where the bus stops. I carried her bags and took her to her home with an offer of help. I also offered tea with honey and lemon and ginger, very good for a cough. Dona Alena said no to my offer.
I do not know a lot about Dona Alena, mostly because I can only understand a little bit of what she says to me. I know that she has retired and has come to Portugal from Portuguese-speaking Angola. I know that she has worked hard to get her small casa in shape and keeps it very clean, I know that she is a kind woman of great dignity who affords others the same dignity and I also know that I have never seen anyone visit her. As I think about Dona Alena alone and ill in an ancient building that has no central heat and holds the chill in the air, I am frustrated that my weak Portuguese prevents me from figuring out how to be more helpful.
My frustration is in stark contrast to what I was feeling this afternoon as I logged on to Facebook to check out the photographs and videos from the Race for Rita, held to raise money for research for Triple Negative Breast Cancer and in so doing, to honor and support my friend, colleague and neighbor, Dr. Rita Smith Wade-El. It was very clear that Rita is far from alone. I knew it in August when, before I left for Portugal, I arranged a meal schedule around Rita’s chemo. treatments. She wisely predicted that she would need to eat to keep her strength up but would not be able to prepare herself meals. There were more than enough volunteers to keep Rita fed.
Rita, she is probably the only person at Millersville who only needs one name, infuriates some people. Still, many, many people love her. And the funny thing about Rita is that they are often the same people. Put me in the second category though. She does not infuriate me; she fascinates me. She is a force of nature and I feel privileged to know her, even when I have to walk away because she has just one more thing to say to me and I really do not have time for it.
This will be no testimonial to all that Rita has done for the university. She is, after all, very much alive and kicking even if she’s not feeling so well right now. To see the photo of Rita in her chemo-prompted cue-ball look, is to know that you don’t mess with her now any more than you would have messed with her six months ago.
I just want to congratulate those who recognized that Rita was worth fighting for. All those students, faculty, staff and friends, who organized and pushed their bodies forward along that 5K path offered Rita a medicine more potent than you can imagine, and you gave yourselves a shot of the same serum. It is the substance of solidarity, the recognition that we love and are not alone, even in those “dark nights of the soul”, or body, when we have to face some challenge all by ourselves.
As I glance across the Patio toward Dona Alena’s door, I am reminded that being and staying connected is a pattern woven of small stitches. It is a responsibility. It is work, though not drudge So now I will knock on my neighbor’s door. Not Dona Alena’s; there is nothing I can do to help right now. I will knock on the door of my neighbor and friend Susana who is a nurse and who is Portuguese. She will know what to say. She will know how to help. I will be connected.
Loading ...
`