I love when you ask people here how they are, and they respond, “aqui” (here). How appropriate sometimes, and more honest than the chipper, “great!” that I feel we tend to dole out with more than genuine regularity in the States. How am I? I am here. Underrated to be present-tense, yet one of the great struggles.
Life here has become, rapidly, and surprisingly easily, Normal. I go to a café, do my internet work, transcribe interviews and field notes, eat a salad, then am heading out to catch an artsy film with a friend and coffee later with a new couchsurfing buddy. This may be as settled as I will be for the next year, so it feels like a good place to start, and the fleeting solidarity is all that more appreciated.
The rally yesterday for women’s rights (in conjunction with the World AIDS Conference) was beautiful. I felt part of the evocative, joyful, tide of caring humanity. Even more than other rallies I’ve been to, there was a sense of extreme vivacity, even though so many of the people marching and dancing along are HIV positive and are fighting battles of life and death through their activism. It was profound, and it was familiar.
I sat next to a woman from Kenya on the bus ride to the protest, who deeply moved me, and shared her perceptions with me about how the Monologues have been received in her country. Her wisdom was as apparent as her exhaustion, yet she talked to me and listened to me with the keenest of attention. I feel like a broken record in these posts, as I end with a sense of gratefulness. I have a nasty gripe, and even this reminder about how crappy it is to feel bad is important, as it gives me a sense (of minuscule proportions) of empathy for what it would be like to live daily with a disease.
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