I had been teaching at my school for a couple years, and found myself frustrated. I was frustrated by how disempowered the women were. Frustrated at how the people of my community seemed to be resistant to improving their lot in life. Frustrated at how minimal was the energy put into teaching by my fellow teachers. Frustrated most recently about how I had tried twice to have a garden, and even tho I had it fenced off a small plot with an old piece of raggedy fence, and both times, just as the tomatoes and lettuce were starting to grow and seem like I might be getting some fresh produce sometime soon, some herd boys had cut my fence and turned their goats into my garden, and they, the goats, had, of course, eaten everything off right at the ground. It was, after all, a drought, and there was very little for the free ranging goats and cows to eat, and the green of my garden must have seemed irresistible to the boys whose duty was to range with the animals, and find them something that they could eat.

I was frustrated that after three separate staff meetings, I was unable to recruit even one teacher to help me in digging a new latrine for the teachers to use. The old teachers latrine near the teachers quarters was full. Up to the brim with poop. Literally overflowing. With clouds of flies. Resulting in my having to walk way down across the soccer pitch to use the students latrines down by the school. I had taken to getting up at 5:30am and making the hike down to what I had been referring to as “The foul breath of Satan”, where I would pay daily homage to George Bush and the Republican Party. (George Herbert Bush, who was at the time waging war in the Persian Gulf) I had even offered my class of Form 3 boys, to tear down the old latrine and build a new latrine, with stalls, if only the teachers would help me dig the hole. There were no takers.

My frustration was causing me to be short and impatient with people. I was sitting on my bench outside my house one day, pondering about my frustrations, and what I could do to make things better. I thought about how I was a guest in their country, and had no right to judge these peaceful people by my cultural biases. They had welcomed me into their country, and had been generous with their time in making me feel like a valued member of the school staff. And it came to me that the problem was not theirs, but mine. It was my outlook that needed to be adjusted, and it was unfair for me to hold them to a standard that was not of their making. And the cognitive dissonance that I was feeling was in fact, mine to resolve in me. I needed to find a way to be kinder to my fellow persons.

I decided that I needed to do something that would change my own outlook on the life around me, so that I would not be cranky and short with others. I needed to teach myself a lesson. So, with this in mind, I went into my house, and brought out my box of beads that I had carried there from the States. It was full of small beads of many colors. I took out my needle, and threaded it with some dental floss, and vowed to think of a way that I could be kinder to others with each bead that I strung on the floss. It started out ok. I could easily think of 5 or 10 ways that I could be kind to others. But then it got harder. I had to put some effort into the thinking, to come up with enough beads to encircle my ankle. And I planned to take the small string of beads, and I would tie it around my ankle, to remind me every day when I put on my socks, that I needed to learn this lesson. I would say a prayer that I would learn this lesson of kindness, and when I had truly learned the lesson, the string would break, and the beads would fall off, and the lesson would have been learned. It took a while, but eventually I thought of enough ways to be kind to people, that that the string was long anough to tie around my ankle. So, I said a prayer, asking for divine guidance, and tied it on. Just the thinking about kindness was already changing my outlook.

It worked pretty well. Pulling on my socks every morning, I was daily reminded of what I was trying to learn, and would head on out into my day, with my foremost thought to practice what I was trying to learn. My relationships with the people around me improved. I found myself having more patience with teachers and students. It made me think about the adversity of life for the people trying to scratch out a living in this harsh land. It made me appreciate the ways that they lived. Soon, it became a part of who I was. Like having rose colored glasses, I was able to appreciate the beauty of the Swazi culture. I was thankful for the changes in me, and for how much more I was enjoying my life there.

It went on for 6 months. Every day I would see the beads, and smile that the lesson I was learning was paying off in joy. And then, 8 months had passed, and I started wondering that since the string had not broken, what was I missing? What part of kindness was eluding me? Was I so hard headed that I was missing something important? So I doubled down, and really focused on being kind all the time. I carried that with me into town to the Peace Corps office, and to the ladies in the market. To the bus conductors and driver. I had a smile for everyone.I greeted strangers, and took the time to ask about their lives, and was a good listener.

A year had gone by, and since I don’t like to walk around feeling unresolved, I let the ankle string fade a little from my consciousness. I knew that I was being as kind as I knew how to be. Of course, it never occurred to me that dental floss is some tough stuff. It has to be to put up with being dragged back and forth between sharp teeth. And the string was showing no sign of being ready to break.

Then one day I was visiting a family of one of my students, and I noticed that the whole family, about 15 people, were literally starving to death. The drought had ruined this years crops, and people had very little to eat. This family in particular, looked like they had not eaten in a week. So, I walked back to the school, and gathered up every bit of food that I had, except for a small bag of beans, which I could live on until I went into town in a week, and could get my pay, and restock my larder, and I took it back to the family, and gave it to them, along with my last 200 Emalangeni (the money of Swaziland) in my pocket. They were thankful, and I left there knowing I had done my best to help their dire situation.

The next day after school, as I took off my teaching clothes and put on my ragged shorts and flip flops, as I took off my socks, I saw that they were full of loose beads, and the string had finally broken. I had finally learned the lesson of kindness.

I have carried that lesson with me ever since. When I find myself lacking patience or being judgmental, all I have to do is think about the kindness ankle bracelet, and it brings me back to the me that I want to be. The universe is amazing that way.

Kindness Matters 

Learning Lessons Matters