This work was written in response to a story about a young, undocumented squash player who took on all the challenges in an elitist sport. She had a coach who inspired her to keep trying, and in the end, she became an international athlete.
Category: Volume 19
One House, Many Tenants
In that house, that big house of yellow sandstone with iron balconies on that crooked and black-lava road, the road that seemed to walk on the slopes of the volcano and on which every door looked like a crater, my grandparents lived. My great-grandparents had lived there, their parents had lived there, and so on, out of the time of this story.
Why They Called Me Mercedes
My name is Gloria Mercedes Parra.
They call me Miche, Merceditas, Meche.
People who know me call me Mama Michisita because that’s what they used to call my grandmother.
No One Like You
One of my favorite songs is “No One Like You” by the famous Nigerian boy band P-Square. This song was a hit in my country, Ivory Coast, in 2007 and 2008. Listening to it now transports me right back to my teenage years. It transports me back to my fears and my hopes: finding the perfect love, finding my way, being successful, and making my family proud of me.
My Country’s Weather
My story is about the weather in Liberia, the country where I was born and raised. There are two seasons, the rainy season and the dry season. There are six months of rain from May through October, and the dry season is the six months from November through April. During the rainy season, when I was little, it sometimes rained for many days and nights, and the rivers would flood.
Haiti, January 12, 2010
I was only 11 years old. None of us knew that our lives would be changed drastically in a matter of hours. I started the day by getting ready for school; as on a typical Tuesday, I had a piano lesson after class from 4:30 until 5:00 p.m. The day went by as usual for my friends and me; we were dismissed at 2:00 p.m., as usual. I called my mom to tell her that I was not feeling well, and that I didn’t want to stay for my piano lesson. She understood and came to pick me up.
Train
I was 10 years old, and my grandparents and I were coming back from Sochi by train, after spending three weeks near the sea. There, we swam and sunbathed, and I tried to ride a motorcycle boat for the first time. That was my first long trip. To travel by train from Sochi to Omsk takes three days.
Always Tell the Truth
When l was a little girl, my mother used to spend Friday afternoons making fry bakes for dinner and breakfast the next morning. When everyone went to bed, I would sneak into the kitchen, open the bucket where my mother kept the fry bakes, and I would take out one or two.
A Cow Named Desire
Cows give us milk, butter, and cheese. I lived with my cow from 2005 to 2017. She was big and had a red coat. She had big, beautifully shaped eyes. She had huge teeth and an enormous tongue.
The Seed
In my country there remain the vibrant, happy, and bright colors of the landscape, the foliage, and the land. But above all, the essence, the primary, the origin, which transcends through imperceptible inheritance. The seed of origin, transferred to your offspring and then to theirs.
The Last Dance of the Turkey
I was five years old in 1970. In my hometown in El Salvador, there was a lake in front of our home, called Guija Lake. My family and I would spend a lot of time in the lake swimming and playing. It was my favorite place to be.
Eleven Pets in the House
The house where I grew up was in an urban area, but it was a very large house with four rooms and a backyard that was also really large. My mom loved animals, but at one time, things got out of control.
Mirror
Some like it, because it owns beauty. Some avoid it, because it is straightforward. Some even want to break it. I look in the mirror thousands of times before I go out. I adjust my makeup on my face so many times. Why can’t I get the look I want? This could ruin my whole new day. What you see in the mirror is your shadow.
Scars
I like to think about the scars on both the outside and inside of my body as tattoos—but with a better story. They may not be made out of ink, but they are made of something even greater: flesh and emotions. The scars on my body always show me that I have lived, but the scars on my heart show me that I have loved.
Perseverance and Quitting
My mother always says, “The ones who persevere until the end will triumph.”
But what does she mean by that?
Does that mean putting up with anything that we don’t want?
Waiting patiently for the miracle that changes everything?
Sometimes we need to quit in order to persevere.