ai-ya sisterhood

In a span of two weeks, I've gone from Africa (Uganda) to Europe (U.K.) to the Americas (U.S./LAX) to... Asia (Rowland Heights, California).

My parents live in an area with a sizable number of Chinese immigrants. All of their friends are Chinese. They shop at Chinese stores, eat at Chinese restaurants, attend a Chinese church. But for a couple of telephone conversations with my siblings, I have not spoken more than three sentences of English to any one person since my arrival 4 days ago.

Earlier today, my mom hosted a class with four of her friends. Being quite skilled in Chinese calligraphy and water color, my mom teaches her friends over tea and conversation. I joined them for a potluck lunch after class. The food was amazing, a smorgasbord of Chinese and Taiwanese cuisine. The conversation was hilarious and interesting, touching on families, Taiwanese elections, stories from travels and everyday lives. My mom's affection and regard for these women have always been obvious in how she speaks of them in their absence; in their presence, I could see the feelings were mutual. Although they meet as a group but once a week, they have supported one another through separation and death of a child and some of the roughest torrents of life.

I shared some stories of Uganda, then some beaded tokens. They thanked me profusely for the souvenirs, which they thought extravagant and unwarranted. But the gifts were meant as ones of appreciation and quite meager and inadequate for that purpose. In my various stints away from home, I've always had the luxury of knowing that these ladies will take care of and watch out for my mom, that they are willing and able to help and support her in ways that I'm not, whether near or far. Their friendship with my mom makes possible - or at least less heart-rending - the adventures of a daughter who loves her mom, but not enough to stay put.