Truong Thi Dieu De

We cannot give life to anybody but we can try to give health.

Wednesday is my favourite day. I will tell you why. As human beings we have in average 27,000 mornings to begin a day anew. I work every Tuesday in Utrecht. On Wednesday I take a rest. This is a day of investment, cultivating the seeds of love. When I open my eyes I vow to spend it beautifully without worries and anger. I prepare myself to be fresh like a flower. Sometimes my flower lasts the whole day long. Sometimes I lose my freshness because of one or two silly things which suddenly happen to me.

At 11.00 I ride on my iron pony to the French Lycée near the sea to give the children a yoga lesson. At 12.45 I ride from the sea back to the HSV school in the centre to pick up Nanku and Michel. I take care of the two boys every Wednesday afternoon from 13.00 to 17.00. For the last two years we have been meeting each other to spend some time together walking, eating soup and doing home work.

We have two kinds of schedules. In the winter we take a rest in the Institute of Social Studies' building and drink something warm. The boys drink hot chocolate and they bring me a cappuccino mindfully (walking with the cup in one hand without spilling drops on the floor).

We drink our beverage silently, then we talk about school or a film or books. Usually they tell me about what has impressed them a lot. When they enjoy something, they are able to describe it in a way which fascinates me. They talk with their whole bodies, mimicking sounds and with stars in their eyes. Especially when they talk about the films Lord of the Rings.

The art of listening is only listening. Listening in a non-judgemental way. Listening with an ‘empty head’ like one is listening to a mantra. This is the only way to be mindful and to be one hundred percent present in the moment. When the boys become excited, they talk at the same time and neglect to give the other space. Then I have to intervene. I raise my hand up: Stop, take time to breathe. We invent new rules. The one who talks holds a stone in his hand. ‘Breathing in, I feel the stone in my hand, breathing out I feel a stone in my hand…’ and then he can continue his story step by step. After a while, he gives the stone to his friend. Then he is able to listen. Everyone needs to take care of their own circle which protects them from getting lost. Otherwise, the body is in one place while the mind is travelling to the moon. Body, speech and mind are one.

When the weather is fine we play in the Scheveningse bosjes. This is a wonderful moment to be in the nature. Breathing with the trees, running with the dogs, sometimes with the squirrels, playing hide and seek or climbing the trees. We invent all kinds of games to have fun in our way.

Sometimes we spend a few hours at the roller-blades court. Friends of Michel and Nanku gather there to practice skateboarding. This is a ‘school’ with clear rules. You have to take time to observe, to listen and to learn their rules, in order to be accepted. The rules are based on the ‘animal instincts, feeling and touching' more than on words written in different languages.

If you want to enter their world you have to leave behind your judgement about vandalism, your worries about the future generation, and your intellectual burden about juvenile problems, for example.

Then you will become a teenager like them, who wants to join other teenagers to spend time together. Then the communication is clear and it prevents conflict. When you finish the game on the roller-blades court you close your circle completely and create a new circle for a new situation. You step into a new role. For me, it is the aunty who wants to go home and serve soup to her nephews.

Last Wednesday, as usual we went to the Institute of Social Studies. During our rest Nanku gave me a letter from Amarita, his mother. It was written in Hindi and in English. The title of the English letter is ‘We cannot give life to anybody but we can try to give health’.

Michel, Nanku and I read this letter carefully. It's about poor Tuberculosis patients in New Delhi. They receive medical treatment from the government. However, the cure of this disease requires not just medicine, but also a good diet, which the poor cannot afford.

Sharda Devi, the one who wrote this letter, provides milk, eggs, fruit, bread and meat to poor TB patients. Nanku read that the monthly diet is worth 300 Rupees. He calculated that this is about 6 Euros per month. The three of us were impressed and touched by the cheap diet which can bring happiness to a person.

As we agreed with each other two years ago, the money we get from their mothers, on these special Wednesdays, we will share with poor people from different countries. We share with sick people in Bhopal, in Delhi or in Vietnam.

The seeds of love are growing in us. Who knows what will happen in the future. The boys could become very important people, such as the president of a country or maybe a very normal civiilian. In any case, their trees of compassion will give a lot of shadow, fruits and flowers to other people. Then the boys will remember their Masidee on the iron pony.

October 2003
Truong Thi Dieu De
(from East meets West, book 5)