The title for this one came when I was at the Museum of Photographic Art at Balboa Park in San Diego with some friends. We had just viewed an exhibit of colorful photos from India and were discussing the hardships that so many in the world face.
Luxury of Trauma
As the bathtub fills with hot water
My heart fills with gratitude
I’ve lived in countries
that didn’t have such luxuries
But I had the choice to leave
The adventures were fun while they lasted
And I didn’t mind fetching water
To take a cold shower.
Besides, the air was hot
And the cool bucket offered relief
After my long sweaty morning runs
I chose to take the 24-hour flight
to live amongst people so
different than myself.
Circumstances vastly different,
yes—but are we so foreign
to not share a common humanity?
Among these ones, abuse is expected
It’s called “discipline,” and “respect for your elders”
“That’s the African way,” they say
It’s rare to know otherwise
Among these ones, young girls succumb
to promises of a smooth sugar daddy
“I’ll pay your school fees,” and
“I’ll treat you right,” he croons
Among these ones, disease and death
are daily dealings
Everyone gets malaria a few times per year
STDs are widespread
and AIDS funerals occur frequently
Among these ones, it’s normal
to have both parents die of AIDS,
a child raising his younger siblings
going to work like a responsible adult
just to eat some porridge each day
lucky to get into school
drop out by age 12
Among these ones, illiteracy
accompanies an empty belly
and trauma is a luxury reserved
for those who can afford it
There is no paid sick day
No health insurance
No psychotherapist
People just wake up each day
and keep going
Do they carry their mourning
with their water cans?
Do they bury it with their seeds?
Or burn it with their trash?
What I might call trauma,
do these ones call “just another day”?
Never do I want to minimize
or misunderstand
Our ways of dealing with life may differ
But do we not all bleed the same color?
Do we not all hope
for peace, love, and a satisfied belly?
Among these ones,
there is much to celebrate and cherish
the family network is extended and strong
there is no “aunt” or “uncle”
all are “mother” or “father,”
and cousins are siblings
One steps in where the others have fallen out
Their humility and generosity
are hard to find among many others,
hardened by their circumstances
I am honored to have been among these ones
My heart is reminiscent, wondering and pensive,
my time with them was short
How have I been bettered
How have my traumas turned to luxuries?
Such are my thoughts
in my full and hot bathtub
April Murdock
1.30.09
Luxury of Trauma
As the bathtub fills with hot water
My heart fills with gratitude
I’ve lived in countries
that didn’t have such luxuries
But I had the choice to leave
The adventures were fun while they lasted
And I didn’t mind fetching water
To take a cold shower.
Besides, the air was hot
And the cool bucket offered relief
After my long sweaty morning runs
I chose to take the 24-hour flight
to live amongst people so
different than myself.
Circumstances vastly different,
yes—but are we so foreign
to not share a common humanity?
Among these ones, abuse is expected
It’s called “discipline,” and “respect for your elders”
“That’s the African way,” they say
It’s rare to know otherwise
Among these ones, young girls succumb
to promises of a smooth sugar daddy
“I’ll pay your school fees,” and
“I’ll treat you right,” he croons
Among these ones, disease and death
are daily dealings
Everyone gets malaria a few times per year
STDs are widespread
and AIDS funerals occur frequently
Among these ones, it’s normal
to have both parents die of AIDS,
a child raising his younger siblings
going to work like a responsible adult
just to eat some porridge each day
lucky to get into school
drop out by age 12
Among these ones, illiteracy
accompanies an empty belly
and trauma is a luxury reserved
for those who can afford it
There is no paid sick day
No health insurance
No psychotherapist
People just wake up each day
and keep going
Do they carry their mourning
with their water cans?
Do they bury it with their seeds?
Or burn it with their trash?
What I might call trauma,
do these ones call “just another day”?
Never do I want to minimize
or misunderstand
Our ways of dealing with life may differ
But do we not all bleed the same color?
Do we not all hope
for peace, love, and a satisfied belly?
Among these ones,
there is much to celebrate and cherish
the family network is extended and strong
there is no “aunt” or “uncle”
all are “mother” or “father,”
and cousins are siblings
One steps in where the others have fallen out
Their humility and generosity
are hard to find among many others,
hardened by their circumstances
I am honored to have been among these ones
My heart is reminiscent, wondering and pensive,
my time with them was short
How have I been bettered
How have my traumas turned to luxuries?
Such are my thoughts
in my full and hot bathtub
April Murdock
1.30.09
