Those Things That Hurt, Instruct

This past Friday night, I went to my Great-Aunt’s house for a memorial dinner to honor the life of her son who passed away a few short weeks ago. As my family and I approached the house, I felt uneasy and unsure of how to act or what to say to my grieving Aunt because just imagining what she was going through broke my heart. Much to my surprise, as I opened the door to the house and went inside, I was surrounded by the sound of people talking and laughing and the smell of roast beef sandwiches. I found my Aunt in the kitchen, talking to other relatives without a tear in her eyes. I soon discovered that my Aunt was grieving the loss of her son by celebrating his life, rather than mourning his death, and for this I greatly admire her. Everybody deals with loss in their own way, whether that may be crying until you feel like you’ve run out of tears, laughing the pain away, or an infinite number of other options.

As I have mentioned in my previous blog posts The Limitation of Language and Monkey See, Monkey Do, I am currently reading The Poisonwood Bible by Barbara Kingsolver in my twelfth grade English class. The characters in the novel are faced with death a number of times as the native Congolese children often die of malaria or the sleeping sickness. The Congolese mothers are obviously upset by the loss of their children, but these deadly diseases are so common in Africa that they have learned to cope with loss through rituals. However, the Price family from Georgia is not accustomed to the loss of children, so when their youngest family member, Ruth May, is killed by the venom of a poisonous snake, their family takes a hard hit and each family member copes with her death differently. Her father, Nathan, uses religion as an escape from any emotional reaction to her death and begins to baptize the native children. Her mother, Orleanna, immediately begins preparing Ruth May for burial and packing up all of her family’s belongings, staying busy to avoid her emotions. She says, “As long as I kept moving, my grief streamed out behind me like a swimmer’s long hair in water” (381). Even years after Ruth May’s death, her sister Leah continues to grieve by mourning her on the anniversary of her death. Leah’s Congolese husband Anatole does not sympathize with Leah’s pain because he doesn’t see Ruth May’s death any differently than the deaths of the other children in the village and deals with loss inwardly. Anatole says to Leah, “Why do you think your sadness is so special? Children died every day in Kilanga. They are dying here and now” (430). This causes Lean to become upset with Anatole because he seems to be dismissing Ruth May’s importance, but in reality he cared very much for Ruth May and just deals with loss in a different way than Leah.

The way that people deal with loss says a lot about their identity. Those who are more sensitive and open with their emotions tend to cry and talk about how they are feeling, while those who are more comfortable keeping their emotions to themselves will hold their pain inside and deal with it by keeping busy or isolating themselves from the world around them. However you deal with your grief, it is important to do so in a healthy manner that doesn’t involve hurting yourself or others. Grief can be a large limitation to your identity that is very difficult to overcome, but there are ways to use your grief to make you a stronger person. The title of this post is a quote by Benjamin Franklin, “Those things that hurt, instruct.” The message conveyed by this quotation is powerful because it suggests that you try to overcome the pain of a situation and see what you can learn from it. I’m not saying that this is by any means an easy thing to do, but it is a skill that we all should strive for.

Monkey See, Monkey Do

I tend to be a bit of a people-watcher. So, as I sat in church this morning, I looked around me and observed the other people in the room. I noticed that there were a lot of families sitting in the pews, many of which were obviously related because the kids looked like miniature versions of their parents. However, there was one blonde, curly-haired little girl that stood out to me. She was sitting with who I presumed to be her mother, father, and two older brothers, all of whom had straight, dark hair. I know there are many genetic explanations for how this little girl ended up looking so different from the rest of her family, or that she could be adopted, or perhaps not even a member of that family at all; but in my imagination she was the daughter of the man and woman in front of me and I was perplexed by her outward appearance. At that point, although I should have been paying attention to the sermon and for that I am sorry, I began to think that even though she may not look like her parents, maybe she has her mother’s laugh, or her father’s love for sports, or a number of other non-visible traits she could have inherited from them. One thought led to another and eventually I started to think about how profound an effect parents have on the people that their children turn out to be, whether they mean to or not.

As I mentioned in my last blog post, I am currently reading The Poisonwood Bible by Barbara Kingsolver in my twelfth-grade English class. The parents in this story are Nathan and Orleanna Price, a reverend from Georgia and his timid wife. They have four daughters, all of whom are very different and are affected by their parents in their own ways. The daughter most obviously affected by them is one of their twins, Leah. Leah is the most religious of all the daughters because she idolizes her father and knows how dear his religion is to him. She follows Nathan around and wants nothing more than his approval. When Nathan asks Leah a question that she doesn’t know the answer to, she gets very down on herself and thinks, “If only I could ever bring forth all that I knew quickly enough to suit father” (37). Nathan never praises Leah, yet she feels the constant need to please him. This is clear when she says, “I know that someday, when I’ve grown large enough in the Holy Spirit, I will have his wholehearted approval” (42). Although Nathan is rarely loving or kind to Leah, she looks up to him because he is constantly imposing his views and values upon his family, while Orleanna sits back and lets him take control. Nathan is rude and controlling towards Orleanna, so as their daughters observe their interactions, they learn to accept that their father is in charge. Although Orleanna doesn’t seem to affect Leah as much as Nathan because Leah doesn’t worship her, by not setting a good example of how to be an independent and strong woman, she teaches Leah that it is okay to live her life the way a man tells her to.

Especially at a young age, children are very impressionable and will often mimic whatever examples are set for them. If a child is brought up in a home where they are exposed to violence or their parents are going through a crisis such as a divorce, this can alter the way that they look at life and possibly lead to a more violent future. It is the parents' job to do their best to be good role models for their children, but not to force them to be something that they’re not. Nathan doesn’t accept that there is any way to live life other than to be a devout Christian, so he shoves his beliefs down the throats of his family and expects them to obey his every command. It is important for children to have guidelines for how they should behave, but once you try to tell them who they should be, you could be permanently tampering with their identity.

The Limitation of Language

Bienvenidos. Bienvenue. Baruch haba. Aloha mai. Yo koso. Willkommen. Welcome. Welcome to my first official blog post, “The Limitation of Language.” Currently, in my Senior English class, we are reading The Poisonwood Bible, a novel written by Barbara Kingsolver. As the Price family from Georgia embarks on a mission with their Reverend of a father in the Congo, they soon learn that something as simple as speaking has a big affect on how easily they are able to get by from day to day.

Speaking the language native to the place you are in is something that many people take for granted on a daily basis. If you need something, you ask for it. It’s a fairly simple concept. But, what if you asked for something and nobody knew what you were saying? What would you do then? The Price family encounters this limitation of language every day in the Congo. Soon after their arrival, a miscommunication causes the Reverend to spend his first few days of the mission laying in bed, poisoned by a native plant. The mother also discovers that the native woman sent to help them, Mama Tataba, has been insulting them without their knowledge by simply using her native tongue. Kingslover writes, “Fufu nsala, Mama Tataba called us. I gathered this had to do with fufu, the food stable, not yet knowing Kikongo is a language that is not exactly spoken but sung. The same word slanted up or down the scale can have many different meanings…Fufu nsala is a forest-dwelling, red-headed rat that runs from sunlight” (94).

These are just a few of the many challenges and miscommunications that the Prices face in the Congo due to the language barrier. Language can be one of the most helpful tools you can use to express yourself, but it can also be a limitation if you can’t communicate your thoughts and ideas to others. Being able to clearly communicate with others isn’t always easy, even if the language being spoken isn’t the problem. Expressing yourself can be one of the most difficult things to do, but recognizing this difficulty can help you work towards overcoming the limitation of language. Recognizing that language is a useful but tricky device is an important step to controlling this limitation because with this recognition you can be aware that every word you say or nonverbal message that you convey counts and that you should choose carefully.