Remembering Lobo by Pat Mora - Essay Example

Remembering Lobo by Pat Mora The Story is written by Pat Mora. A Mexican-American of Children’s Literature. In this story, d “RememberingLobo”, the author is talking about her beautiful and well mannered aunt “Lobo”. The author says that Lobo is a very unusual name for a woman, which literary means, a “Wolf”. The passage was meaningful to me in a way that it tells the story of a migrant. The author states that the Lobo emigrated from her home town in Mexico. Because of the Mexican Revolution she and her family had to migrate. And all of their family’s belongings were left in Mexico. This article relates to me in a way such that the death of Lobo reminds me about the death of my grand mother. I still remember she was a very kind women, she used to care for us dearly, not very rich but had enough money to support herself. I remember her last time; I was in Australia at that time doing my MBA (Finance) from University of Perth. I went there on a scholarship, my grandmother was suffering from Lung cancer, she was a smoker, and I had my flight from Perth at 10:00 p.m. in the night. I was on my way to see her, the flight got delayed over and over and we finally took off at 4:00 am. And reached my hometown after 28 long hours. I was fully exhausted. I decided not to visit immediately, I spent a night at a hotel. And decided I will visit her after taking some rest. I called her and said I am stuck somewhere and will be there as soon as possible. I found a hotel, and checked in. The moment I saw my room, I tipped the Servant, and told him to put a “Do not Disturb” Sign on my door Knob. I saw the bed and without taking off my Suit, neck tie or even my shoes, I fell on the Bed and fell into asleep that lasted almost 16 hours. The moment I woke up, I took a look at my cell phone and saw 18 miscalls, two from my college room mates and the remaining from my Grand Mother’s House. I immediately called my Friends and told him that by the grace of God, I have reached the destination. Then I called my grandmother and told her I’ll be at her house in 2 to 2 and 1/2 hours. She said fine but her tone got me worried. Because I could sense that she was very angry at me for not showing up when the plane landed. I got to the Bathroom, took a bath, ordered some lunch, put on some clothes and shoes, and waited for the hotel boy to bring me my lunch. When the guy got me my lunch, I ate it in a jiffy. I checked out of the hotel, and took a cab to my grand mother’s house. When I reached there, my heart started pounding, I don’t know whether it was because I was meeting with her after such a long time, or I maybe because I felt this was the last time I was meeting her or because may be some unknown reason but I started to get nervous. I knocked on the door, a maid opened the door, and my grand mother had a room upstairs so I went up to her room, but it was empty. The maid told me that because of her condition we have relocated her on the ground floor. I went to her room, she had a respirator mask on her face, she said, “You made it Jackass!” I was relieved because that was typical of my grandmother. She pointed at me to come sit close to her, I went to her and she asked how I was. I replied, “I am fine!’ and added “How are you” and then she replied, “How do you think, I am?” the sarcasm in her already shrilled voice made me cry, She said,” Don’t be a girl; I am dying here not you!” I told her, “I didn’t expect you would be like this”. She said, "These doctors don’t know anything, they put me on chemotherapy, and on radiation treatment which didn’t help me, but my chest hurts a lot". I told the doctors about it and they say there’s nothing they can do about it. I said,” I feel your pain”. She said, “Come close to me, I want to tell you something”. I followed her command and she in a shrill voice told me, “you are a good man, the world is very tough ahead, and things are going to get worse but I want to tell you something that going to help you a lot”. I said, “Ok!” She continued ,”The only advice that I can give to you is this, EXPECT THE UNEXPECTED AND YOU’LL NEVER BE SURPRISED” . The Mbuti Pygmies by Colin Turnbull The essay above is written by Colin Turnbull. The essay tells us about the bambuti one of the several indigenous pygmy groups in the Congo region of Africa. The thing I learned and found most interesting in this topic is about the educational process of the pygmies. Their history as one of the oldest indigenous people in Congo region of Africa makes it even more fascinating. It tells how the first three years of their life how they are completely secure from outside world. They are completely safe in the mother’s hand. The way they are breastfed fro all those three years regardless of their gender. The way the father loves his offspring. When she acts as nothing more or less than her mother, when he first introduces his child to solid food like a banana, an apple or orange. The sweet ritual in which the mother would give the child to the father and the kid would start crying for her mother, suckle the father’s breast and cry for her mother and the father would then out of love give his child, his or her first solid fruit. And after the age of three, the child would go into the bopi or to be more precise into the playground, which would be a few yards from the main camp of the pygmies, probably near a stream, the bopi are a fun and noisy place for the children, but around it is its entire world. The child would play there and be friends with other children who would be either a girl or a boy. And thus gender differences are eliminated. Children have rights among the gypsies but they also have responsibilities. There are many rituals among the mubti tribes, but the hunting fire is quite interesting, in which when in the morning the children get out of their bopi, take their firebrands and lit the fire below a particular tree a few yards from the camp, and cover it with leaves so smoke can be created and when the hunters come out of the camps they can see it and as a ritual they can go above them. Some hunter do it hurriedly so the can avoid the smoke but some also do it steadily so they can get the whole smoke in their body and they rub the body with smoke, it gives kind of an ecstatic feeling, in which, the hunters feel they minimize the hurt the animal feel when it is being hunted. And if the children did not lit the fire then the hunting would not take place. In this way the children became an integral part of their society. As at the age four they have been given a social responsibility. And they do not feel outsider and in the essence of their purity with which they were born from the forest itself. So as the elders are contaminated by killing of the animals, and the older they grow the more are the chances of them dying, and are least pure of all, children are untainted and uncontaminated by this killing ritual and stay pure. In this way the Mbuti gypsies gives social responsibilities by age division. In Bopi children play games that makes no sense of the word game, means no one loses or wins they just play for fun, every one is equal and one of the game they play is tree climbing, in which they would climb the tree and grab one of its branches and would just jump off hold leave branch so the tree start moving. They play other games like something like hide and seek. When the elders go to hunting, they would go inside play or play games that would help them as they grow older. Inside the bopi all of them were like a brothers and sisters to each other. And they behave around each other with any gender differences and they remain friends forever. At every age, whether infanthood, young or old age they will always remain apua’I to each other. But only grown ups do it as a joke or to degrade someone to refers males as apua’I or females as amua’I to make a distinction between male or females. In Mubtu or Bambuti if you are the same age you share everything regardless of if you are male or female, regardless of kinship nothing is mine or your, what belongs to me, belongs to you and what belongs to you belongs to me. Antidisestablishmentarianism The essay antidisestablishmentarianism is written by Gayle Pemberton. The article does not relate to me in such a way that the story and the characters of the family do not relate to me. My family isn’t that dysfunctional. We live in Cape Town, South Africa with our parents, and they have 5 offspring, including me. Our grand parents didn’t live with us, as they lived in Pretoria. Our grandmother was not like the women in the this essay, she was a very jolly, she never showed sarcasm, neither did she hold a grudge, she was not racist and even we lived in one of the worlds most racist nations, Our grand mother was very accepting of all people including blacks which we were of course. She used to believe Whites, South Asians, and Chinese and believed all the humans are created equal. Also did not hold any religious prejudice against anyone, including Jews, Muslims or Buddhist as we are from a Catholic background. Our relationship with our grand parents was not the same as the one that the grand children in the essay has. They were very peaceful people. She did not use to judge any one and nor did she use to give unasked criticism or pass remarks that might be offensive to someone. Nor have I ever faced any racist incident like the one the nigger ass one or the one the author faced. Unlike the author, who losses her temper when the author saw his grandmother, I on the other used to a glow when I saw my grand mother. I always got an undying glow or that reflects my affection towards her. Any flaws inside me or if I ever do something wrong, she did not show any anger, and never blamed anyone, she was such a relaxed person that anger is not even distantly related to her! She did not have any ailments like; an enlarged heart, ulcers, arthritis but she did suffer from malaria right before her death at the age of 97. The day she died, she was right in front of me and her last words were. ”Never surrender”. She supported Mandela during the apartheid movement in South Africa and was also been to jail. The day of her funeral was one of the most depressing days of my life, her last wish was, that she should be cremated and her ashes should be scattered on Grand Father’s Grave who passed a year before her Death. My father gave the Eulogy; and the most inspirational of all her words were repeated over and over; one thing that the grand mother always used to say; “You have got to live everyday, like you might die tomorrow” and those words is what my inspiration for life is. The funeral was attended by respected many people including those who were fought with her during the apartheid struggle including the relatives of Steve Biko. She lived a life that was an inspiration for everyone! Read More