In September 1994 when I was attending Montserrat College of Art a series of very fortunate events took place and changed my life forever. With my roughly 8000 miles away I had discovered a different meaning to the word alone. On the most part I was used to being alone but this time was different, instead of being alone with 100 other kids all my college mates would go home for the holidays.
Thanksgiving was the first major holiday I experienced, the day before I remember watching everyone get excited, packing their bags bragging of how they would eat themselves into a comma. After all most of these college kids had left home for the first time and eating 15 cent Ramen Noodle every night and being away from their homes was a new thing. I didn't really mind it, Zimbabwean boarding school food was not exactly gourmet. In fact I was happy to be able to have so many choices when I walked down the grocery isle; Ramen Noodles, chicken wings, Chef Boyardee, Spaghetti with sauce, all of which I could buy with a $1. I knew this food was not gourmet either but
i could deal with not one complaint.
One day i checked my bank card and realized I had $60 left to my name, now that doesn't sound too bad BUT......I had no job, no real friends yet, no family for 8000 miles. Now that was a scary feeling. I woke up the next day and walked to the beginning of a main street in Beverly called Cabot street and started filling out applications in every single business I could. Some of my experiences were very discouraging because there were not a lot of minorities in this city at this time, a few times i was denied application forms. An hour later I walked into a bakery which was filled with all kinds of bread and sweet pastries, it was very cosy and intimate and a little lady greeted me and asked "Can I help you?". I told her I was looking for a job and she went out back and came back with a tall middle aged man with peppered hair and a dirty white apron on. I tell him i am looking for a job and he asks me about my accent because I still had a strong British/African influence on the way I spoke. As soon as i told him "Zimbabwe, Africa" he got over excited and took off telling me how felt he has been an animal in past life. He told me about his dreams of feeding wild animals, the birds that circles his house every summer and how it was a sign that I had walked into his store, he hired me on the spot. I didn't know what to think, I do know the average person would call him crazy but i understand what he meant, there was an energy, he just went a little bit far and personal with it :).
Anyway i am forever grateful to that man for he gave my first job, he respect me, he saved me from a difficult time and most of all, of all the places I walked into he was the only person who saw my color and origin as a good thing. In fact he saw my origin as something to get excited about, he asked me about elephants, giraffes and so on.
Weird he was but I prefer to call him different and open...He was my first angel.
My second angel was the Resident Assistant at the college who knew i was a fish out of water in this country and always came by to chat and ask me how i was doing. He would invite me to his place and he would could and tell me I needed to toughen up because i was to pleasant and around here that can be dangerous. I would tell him of my dreams because my first month in country i had recurring nightmares and the one that remains vivid in my memory was of a 6 month old baby covered in blood that i would try pick up and help and it would attack me. I could never get myself to hurt the baby even though it would hurt me continuously until I wake up in fright and out of breath. We talked about many things that helped me in a time where I had no one to talk to or to listen.
So back to the bakery, because that's where it all started. On my first day at work I was introduced to a kid my age who was to show me how things worked on the job. Once we were alone in the back he started out training session by saying " There are two ways of doing things here, the right way and my way". So he gave me an example and showed me how after sweeping the floor the right was was getting the dust pan and his way was sweeping the dirt under the walk in refrigerator. "American style" is what he called his technique. He would also work his entire shift with his then girlfriend waiting in his car and when i asked why he would do this or why she would wait, again he said "American stlye". Believe it or not this guy would turn out to be my third angel, I would not of guessed it either at this point.
So on Thanksgiving day in 1994 "Mr. American Style" fascinated by how I had never seen or been to a football game decided to take me with him to a high school game. Before the game I we stopped at his house where i met his mother. He introduced me to her and ran upstairs and left us alone, I was very uncomfortable but she was so pleasant and warm I relaxed. After offering me food or drink both of which I refused she asked me a few questions about myself. I remember responding "yes ma'am, no ma'am to everything" I was still not used to the first name basis or not using Mr. or Mrs when addressing adults. Then before we left she whispered that i was the most polite kid he had ever brought home and she hoped we would remain friends. Here energy towards me was comforting and she was the second person that had not judged me or shown any discomfort or distance because of my skin color, she felt my energy, liked it and nothing else mattered.
That was over fourteen years ago and yesterday I had a lovely Thanksgiving dinner at Mr American Style's new house with his wife, his 14 month old son and his family. Since 1994 there has not been a birthday, holiday or special day that him and his mother have not done something special for me. And yes, his mother is my fourth angel. Yesterday while driving, after leaving his house, I got overwhelmed by the fact that I don't ever remember sitting at a dinner table with my mother, father and siblings. Tears started rolling down my cheeks, I never do well on holidays for it makes me sad that no matter what I do in my life there will never be a day where I will sit with my entire family or just my parents at a table and laugh, share food and feel grateful for having each other. That train passed and will never return. I don't wallow in a fact that i cannot changed but when i see people that really strangers take me into their home I am filled with joy and gratitude but i am also reminded of what i lack.
My fourth angel gave me a mother, something i yearned for since I was separated from my own. I speak to my real mother every other day, we share a close spiritual and emotional bond but our relationship for now is reduced to phone calls and dreams. My fourth angel Denise is a mother i can hug, I can kiss and one i can tell my problems and know she will not only care, but she will help. Every time I look at her I am in disbelief of the reality of what she has done, given me and continues to be for me.
A few weeks back she was diagnosed with cancer on her lung. After about a 5 hour surgery, a broken rib and a loss of 5 quarts of blood she is cancer free and getting ready for chemotherapy. When l walked into the hospital after her surgery and say he laying there weak and in pain, I realized I had never really told her how she has affected my life and how she is my angel - insane as it may sound. I am forever grateful for my friend "brother" Mike and his entire family for being the biggest part of my ability to cope without my family. I have encountered many angels in my life before and after the ones I have mentioned but at this moment these are the ones that are on my mind at this time of the year.
Unfortunately I had to get reminded by cancer the importance of what i have in my life but I am happy for what God has done for me and continues to do for me in every path i cross. We all have angels with no wings and sometimes we don't know the difference and don't take the time be crazy enough to realize what they are.
In honor of my angel without wings #4 i designed a t-shirt to thank her and to
rejoice her poise and optimism even when laid out in a hospital bed after being cut open, cut on the lung, hooked to machines with a broken rib. M.D the invincible!
Here is the design.
Thanks for all your support!
Bless
Bless By Bless Couture
Designer
www.blessbybless.com
Thanksgiving was the first major holiday I experienced, the day before I remember watching everyone get excited, packing their bags bragging of how they would eat themselves into a comma. After all most of these college kids had left home for the first time and eating 15 cent Ramen Noodle every night and being away from their homes was a new thing. I didn't really mind it, Zimbabwean boarding school food was not exactly gourmet. In fact I was happy to be able to have so many choices when I walked down the grocery isle; Ramen Noodles, chicken wings, Chef Boyardee, Spaghetti with sauce, all of which I could buy with a $1. I knew this food was not gourmet either but
i could deal with not one complaint.
One day i checked my bank card and realized I had $60 left to my name, now that doesn't sound too bad BUT......I had no job, no real friends yet, no family for 8000 miles. Now that was a scary feeling. I woke up the next day and walked to the beginning of a main street in Beverly called Cabot street and started filling out applications in every single business I could. Some of my experiences were very discouraging because there were not a lot of minorities in this city at this time, a few times i was denied application forms. An hour later I walked into a bakery which was filled with all kinds of bread and sweet pastries, it was very cosy and intimate and a little lady greeted me and asked "Can I help you?". I told her I was looking for a job and she went out back and came back with a tall middle aged man with peppered hair and a dirty white apron on. I tell him i am looking for a job and he asks me about my accent because I still had a strong British/African influence on the way I spoke. As soon as i told him "Zimbabwe, Africa" he got over excited and took off telling me how felt he has been an animal in past life. He told me about his dreams of feeding wild animals, the birds that circles his house every summer and how it was a sign that I had walked into his store, he hired me on the spot. I didn't know what to think, I do know the average person would call him crazy but i understand what he meant, there was an energy, he just went a little bit far and personal with it :).
Anyway i am forever grateful to that man for he gave my first job, he respect me, he saved me from a difficult time and most of all, of all the places I walked into he was the only person who saw my color and origin as a good thing. In fact he saw my origin as something to get excited about, he asked me about elephants, giraffes and so on.
Weird he was but I prefer to call him different and open...He was my first angel.
My second angel was the Resident Assistant at the college who knew i was a fish out of water in this country and always came by to chat and ask me how i was doing. He would invite me to his place and he would could and tell me I needed to toughen up because i was to pleasant and around here that can be dangerous. I would tell him of my dreams because my first month in country i had recurring nightmares and the one that remains vivid in my memory was of a 6 month old baby covered in blood that i would try pick up and help and it would attack me. I could never get myself to hurt the baby even though it would hurt me continuously until I wake up in fright and out of breath. We talked about many things that helped me in a time where I had no one to talk to or to listen.
So back to the bakery, because that's where it all started. On my first day at work I was introduced to a kid my age who was to show me how things worked on the job. Once we were alone in the back he started out training session by saying " There are two ways of doing things here, the right way and my way". So he gave me an example and showed me how after sweeping the floor the right was was getting the dust pan and his way was sweeping the dirt under the walk in refrigerator. "American style" is what he called his technique. He would also work his entire shift with his then girlfriend waiting in his car and when i asked why he would do this or why she would wait, again he said "American stlye". Believe it or not this guy would turn out to be my third angel, I would not of guessed it either at this point.
So on Thanksgiving day in 1994 "Mr. American Style" fascinated by how I had never seen or been to a football game decided to take me with him to a high school game. Before the game I we stopped at his house where i met his mother. He introduced me to her and ran upstairs and left us alone, I was very uncomfortable but she was so pleasant and warm I relaxed. After offering me food or drink both of which I refused she asked me a few questions about myself. I remember responding "yes ma'am, no ma'am to everything" I was still not used to the first name basis or not using Mr. or Mrs when addressing adults. Then before we left she whispered that i was the most polite kid he had ever brought home and she hoped we would remain friends. Here energy towards me was comforting and she was the second person that had not judged me or shown any discomfort or distance because of my skin color, she felt my energy, liked it and nothing else mattered.
That was over fourteen years ago and yesterday I had a lovely Thanksgiving dinner at Mr American Style's new house with his wife, his 14 month old son and his family. Since 1994 there has not been a birthday, holiday or special day that him and his mother have not done something special for me. And yes, his mother is my fourth angel. Yesterday while driving, after leaving his house, I got overwhelmed by the fact that I don't ever remember sitting at a dinner table with my mother, father and siblings. Tears started rolling down my cheeks, I never do well on holidays for it makes me sad that no matter what I do in my life there will never be a day where I will sit with my entire family or just my parents at a table and laugh, share food and feel grateful for having each other. That train passed and will never return. I don't wallow in a fact that i cannot changed but when i see people that really strangers take me into their home I am filled with joy and gratitude but i am also reminded of what i lack.
My fourth angel gave me a mother, something i yearned for since I was separated from my own. I speak to my real mother every other day, we share a close spiritual and emotional bond but our relationship for now is reduced to phone calls and dreams. My fourth angel Denise is a mother i can hug, I can kiss and one i can tell my problems and know she will not only care, but she will help. Every time I look at her I am in disbelief of the reality of what she has done, given me and continues to be for me.
A few weeks back she was diagnosed with cancer on her lung. After about a 5 hour surgery, a broken rib and a loss of 5 quarts of blood she is cancer free and getting ready for chemotherapy. When l walked into the hospital after her surgery and say he laying there weak and in pain, I realized I had never really told her how she has affected my life and how she is my angel - insane as it may sound. I am forever grateful for my friend "brother" Mike and his entire family for being the biggest part of my ability to cope without my family. I have encountered many angels in my life before and after the ones I have mentioned but at this moment these are the ones that are on my mind at this time of the year.
Unfortunately I had to get reminded by cancer the importance of what i have in my life but I am happy for what God has done for me and continues to do for me in every path i cross. We all have angels with no wings and sometimes we don't know the difference and don't take the time be crazy enough to realize what they are.
In honor of my angel without wings #4 i designed a t-shirt to thank her and to
rejoice her poise and optimism even when laid out in a hospital bed after being cut open, cut on the lung, hooked to machines with a broken rib. M.D the invincible!
Here is the design.
Thanks for all your support!
Bless
Bless By Bless Couture
Designer
www.blessbybless.com
