As we chased the setting sun and the great deserts of the southwest fell into our wake the manicured trees and exotic gardens of Palm Desert, California enveloped us. Since the highway had become too boring to bear, I decided to take a shortcut across the mountains of the San Jacinto wilderness toward San Diego. We crept up the winding cut back Pines to Palms highway and the view just grew and grew. This was a great introduction to southern California. We dropped into Casa, a retirement community in North San Diego a little late for dinner. My uncle Artie and aunt Jean met us, full of anticipation. Artie had arranged for us to park at Casa and have meals with the residents, dividing the children in twos and threes among them. There was a heated pool to swim in, and a big presentation planned for Valentine’s Day. Basing our operation there the children would gain a lot of experience with American who in Afghan terms are the people that deserve the greatest respect. There are octogenarians, even folks in the nineties who were in their lives singers, superintendants, WWII veterans, rocket scientists, and a multitude of other histories.
It was a peculiar experience for the children, coming from their culture where old people are integrally involved with their extended families, while here seniors live apart from family. They took great interest and care in meeting with the residents, and were deeply appreciated.
Our first day in San Diego we arranged to meet with a small but tight nit Afghan American community at an Islamic Center and Mosque. Abdul Samady had arranged the meeting, which included prayers and the children and Nasrin speaking in Dari about their experience with AFCECO. The outpouring of love and generosity was extraordinary. It became our largest single fundraising event thus far. Given my experience traveling with children last year, I anticipated a down time in February when these children would become terribly homesick. This meeting with countrymen and women, their own culture could not have come at a better time. The people were tremendously kind toward me as well, and I felt the pangs of my adopted home calling me back.
But we have some mile to go, first.
I brought the troupe to the San Diego Zoo. Though weather threatened to pour on us, the clouds broke as we entered the gates. It was a pleasure to simply roam around the gardens, feeling the calm of the waterfalls and periodically getting a glimpse of the animals in their natural habitat. Most memorable for me was pointing out the snow leopard, indicating that this animal could very well have come from the Hindu Kush. I suppose most interesting was the “skyfari”, but it was also good to work off some of that pizza walking a few miles around the park.
On Monday the 13th we boarded the three-mast America for a four-hour sail outside San Diego harbor, looking for grey whales. This was as unique experience as they come, and as we tossed among the ocean swells the motion didn’t affect the children at all, except to make them a little sleepy. When our colorful first mate yelled, “Thar she blows!” Mohsan and Eraj leapt from their entangled nap off of the hatch cover and to the gunwales to see two large flukes turn up in the air before a dive. Once again the rain held off until our outing came to an end.
It is worth mentioning here that all along the way there have been impromptu encounters with strangers that we will remember. The woman at the truck stop that burst into tears after Hala and Nasrin explained who we were and what we were doing, the woman on the sailing vessel that requested information and a brochure after hearing the girls talk about their experiences, the man at the toll booth and the security guard at the retirement complex that seemed to awaken from a kind of malaise and get excited about learning more. This has been a whirlwind tour of America, leaving seeds along the way everywhere we have traveled. Seed of truth, innocence, and hope. The America we discover from doorstep to doorstep is not the same America that is characterized and broadcast to the world. As the children represent hope, so too do all the sponsors and teachers and parents and immigrants and strangers we have touched.
On Valentine’s Day my uncle Artie orchestrated a fundraising presentation for his peers at the retirement complex. Around eighty or so seniors filled the hall and enjoyed the children in their Afghan costumes, their stories and songs and the great news about AFCECO’s mission. In the end I could not resist making public my honor, joy and love for these emissaries from Afghanistan as I handed each a box of chocolate and two roses. With my AFCECO family I am in love, deeply, and so in love with the world because of it.
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