A visit from an old friend who we haven't heard from in a long while.
A woman of African heritage shares her innermost thoughts and feelings about different things.
Weds., 28 February, 2007~
Dear Journal~
I am most sorry for not writing in here for so long; when you have as many children as I do, they keep me pretty well busy. I have ten children under the age of eight, and nine of them are under the age of six. Included in this group is a set of twins, a set of triplets, and a set of quadruplets, in addition to Jubaki, our firstborn son, who will be nine in June.
I am also disabled: I use a wheelchair or crutches, and I also have problems with orthostatic hypotension (abnormally low blood pressure), of which I take medication for. It helps a lot; otherwise, I'd be dizzy or passing out at the least expected moments, and that is no way to live! I need to be aware, kept on my toes, when dealing with our children; they are lively, engaging little ones, and they don't give me much of an opportunity to rest.
My name is M'Buti Ayala Moore-Sormiento. I have been married for the past ten years; I became an American citizen in July of 2001. I was born in Kenya, Africa, in a tiny Maasai village northeast of Nairobi, Kenya's capital city. I have two brothers, both older, named Keserian and Naiser: Naiser is a pediatric neurologist in Nairobi; Naiser raises cattle for a living, in the traditional Maasai fashion.
Now, I may have been African by birth, but I am an American now; I love America, and I always have dreamed of coming here, ever since I was a little girl. I wanted to be a teacher, but Father was dead set against it; I tried to please his wishes, but the dream of coming to America never left.
When I came to America, it was a cutural shock in every sense. I couldn't believe all the different types of people, or the convenience of having stores, eating estahlishments, or other places so close by. I couldn't get used to the noisy traffic, and I was terrified of the crowds. I couldn't get used to the language: to me, the people sounded like chattering monkeys. I started attending university in Nashville, Tennessee, where I settled, and shortly afterwards, I was raped and burned. (The man who harmed me is now in jail, facing a long prison sentence.) I spent a very long time in hospital, learning how to walk on sticks, how to live life as a crippled person. It was not easy; it still isn't at times.
I had to contend with the loss of both my parents, N'Gaire (mother) and Naiser: they were brutally murdered. I still miss them; I still cry whenever I think of the person who changed my life forever. He robbed me of my parents, I have a very hard time trying to forget--let alone, trying to forgive him. (The murderer is still on the loose, which sets my mind to panic mode. I am terrified he will get me, my husband, or worse, my children; I don't think I could live with that!) They were visiting me from Africa; they were getting money to go back from the ATM machine, and they were gunned down. They both died instantly.
It was a very rough time for me. I couldn't eat, I couldn't think, I was still in hospital, recovering from my burns and other injuries. I lost weight, but I put it back on when I got out of hospital. I seemed to be having my life back in order when I got sick with flesh-eating disease, which nearly cost me my legs. I went down to under 80 pounds, and I had to be fed by tube.
I had severe, unrelenting pain which nearly drove me out of my mind; it was all I could do to keep from wanting to kill myself, to get some relief. That is how much pain I was in; no matter what drugs they gave to me, no matter what methods the doctors or nurses used to try to quell the pain, nothing worked. It was hell, it was pure hell.
I am happy to say I am doing much better now. I did have a job at a newspaper place, but then I got pregnant with twins, and my health suffered: I was constantly sick; I had to leave because I couldn't hardly keep anything down. It was a bad time for me. I had to go on disability, which helps pay the bills, but often leaves me with very little after the bills are paid and the kids' needs are met. They come first, as does my husband. I am still disabled, but there's really nothing I can do about that except go to the doctor's, to make sure my health is up to par.
My husband is a Marine Reservist. He want into the Marines after September 11, 2001, as a means to defend his country; he served his time; he is now in the Reserves. He goes for training one weekend a month, to make sure his military skills are sharp. He looks so good in his Marine uniform or in his camouflage!
September 11, 2001, shook him to the core; for me, it was worse: I lost a friend (Stephanie Green) in the terror attacks: she died in one of the towers when the plane hit it, and I still have problems trying to forgive the attackers who did this horrible thing. I still can't believe it happened here, that they were living here, working here: how could they have escaped detection? How could they say they were Americans when they were supporting terrorism and hating America? It didn't make any sense; it still doesn't!
I will never forget the horrible events of that day: I still have nightmares even now; I still miss Stephanie like crazy. She came to Africa as a missionary, and I met her when she came to my village. She and I may have been as different as night and day, but somehow, she and I just clicked; we became fast friends, and we kept in contact with each other when she left to go back home to America. Then the jerks got her, and now she is gone, just like my parents and the rest of my life. It has only been in the last few years when life has gotten really good for me.
Well, I will write more later. Take care, and may God bless you always!
This is an interesting story, Karen. Goes to show that people are the same, have the same problems, face the same difficulties, regardless of what they look like and where they're from. The only barrier is language...but that can be rectified with lessons. I like what M'Buti had to say about becoming friends with Stephanie. Touching!
W o W! A powerful (re)introduction on M'Buti Ayala's character, whom we haven't read about in a long while. No wonder: nine children, six under the age of six, plus two older: a wonder she has time to think. (We know what she's been doing!! LOL) I hope her husband helps out...............LOL He better. He started things! LOLOLOL Excellent!
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