Katrina Furugori

This is my first blog entry since returning home in March. I have tried to write one many times, but every time I get to this spot here, I am choked for words. Over the dozen times I have tried to write a blog over the past month, I have not been able to type down anything that I would deem significant, meaningful, or insightful in the least. I am not too sure why this is, or what to do to cure it, so I am just going to write the first things that come to mind, since at this point I cannot stall any longer. This is a bit of how I am feeling right now:

The longer that time inevitably passes, the farther away the memories of Mongolia become. It seems that every sleep now makes the trip that much more a point of history rather than an ongoing experience. I was shocked when we returned home to see how quickly we were expected to reintegrate into our normal lives. For me, this took several weeks, and in many ways, I am not entirely back yet. I think the hardest part was that we were only able to have a couple classes after we got back due to reasons such as the interviews for next year’s group. Because of this, I feel that I was unable to fully debrief what I had experienced with the only other people in the world who would understand what I was talking about. It has been hard for me to accept what I now know about life, and continue on my daily routines.

I suppose I have just not been able to see it all for what it is. My grade 6 teacher used to tell us “He couldn’t see the forest for the trees” whenever we failed to see the bigger picture. As I attempt to make sense of all the events that took place in the past month, I picture not a forest, but only many individual trees. I learned so many lessons and understood so many new things in such a short period of time, that I have not yet figured out how all those trees make a forest. I suppose this is because I have not had enough time away from what I was doing and from what I was seeing. I can only hope that over time, new experiences will expose the forest.

In the mean time, I have been trying to reflect upon all my actions, comparing what I do now to what I used to do then. So far, I have seen only positive changes. A few changes, I could have predicted, but some others, I would have never been able to dream up. For example, I have always appreciated my parents. They have always been there for me, and give me opportunities regularly to showcase and develop my independence. However, upon my return, I have felt more indebted to them than I ever had before. My parents are amazing people, and one change that I have made is that I tell them I love them more often. I also say thank you to them more, even in situations where thanks is not entirely necessary.

More so, however, I realized that I had taken my brother for granted. He is an amazing young man who will grow up to be a fine individual, and I want him to know that I will always be there for him, no matter what, as he is there for me when I need him. One of my classmates last year lost a brother. When I think about this tragedy, I cannot stop myself from imagining what my life would be like if that were my situation. I can honestly say, I do not know how I would find the will to live. I am getting teary-eyed right now just thinking about it. Fortunately, for my classmate, Global has been the best possible medicine, and one of the only things that could have ever began to mend a heart crippled in that much hurt.

So as I make my attempts to unveil the forest that I am sure exists, I find myself at a most uncomfortable standstill. It feels as if I am torn in a painful dichotomy. Part of me wants to move along and get on with my life, while at the same time, another is just begging me to freeze, so that I may have time to sit and think for a minute. Like the blind man who has been given eyes, I am finding it difficult to adjust to the newfound clarity. I can only hope that through the remainder of our classes, I can reach some form of closure that might allow me to move on with my life, but at the same time, never forgetting the experience my classmates and I shared together in the heart of the frozen north.

Yesterday I got the opportunity to work with the dentists. That was some of the most exhilarating work I have ever done in my life. It allowed me the opportunity to reflect immensely on the dental healthcare system that we have in Canada. Something that we do so passively once a year or so and that the majority of us loath, these people here in Mongolia can only dream about. I  had never seen rotting teeth before five inches from my face. Never again will I take the dentist for granted, nor will I neglect to take proper care of my teeth. As for the work site, I cannot believe the amount of progress that we have made in the last day and a half. We went from roofless and floorless one afternoon, to a completed structure the next. All this construction has re-kindled my love for woodworking, and it is a hobby that I will definitely start back up again when I get back home. There is just something so satisfying about making something meaningful with your own two hands. On top of that, I love being a female showing all those burly men that I can do everything they can do. I am sure I have helped changed the opinions of some men towards females in this town.

When I think about this trip, only one word comes to mind: WOW. This has been the most fantastic thing to happen to me in quite a while. Every day I learn so much more about the world, how it works, and how we can work together to make it a better place. Something amazing that I have noticed throughout our various “culture nights” with Mongolian students is the profound connection we can make through song and dance. It does not matter what language you speak or what colour your skin is, you can still boogie to the same tunes night after night and have a great time. I think I have discovered on this trip that life is about celebrating differences, not eliminating them.  As I discover more about Mongolia, its people, and the third world in general, I am amazed at how much I discover about myself. I hope that I will never deviate from this path of rediscovery, and that I will always seek opportunities to make myself a better person.

I am trying to slow down time, but the days keep rolling by

Capturing every breath, every movement, each connection

In a 4×6 window frame

Life takes new meaning

Under the blue sky

Protected by the watchful mountainside

This is it. The final day of waiting. All of the prep-work, fundraising, events, classes, activities, assignments, speakers, and extra weekends of commitment have finally led to the much-anticipated, life-altering two weeks that I have waited for my entire high-school career. When I reflect back on the journey it took to get here, I become dazed at how fast the past year has gone by. As it is, my greatest fear for the trip is not an issue of warmth, comfort, or safety, but rather, that I might blink and the trip will be over. So far, I have been able to slow down and relish almost every moment I can think of in this my last year of high school. I can only hope that this skill is transferable across international borders, and that I will be able to make this experience last as long as possible. As I sit here on my comfortable bed with food in my belly, clothes on my back, and a roof over my head, I cannot help but wonder how my perspective will change in the course of the next two weeks, and how, when I return to this very position on March 26^th, my thoughts on the simple action may differ. It is odd to think that I may fall sleep tomorrow night a changed woman. I am not sure how that change will come about (or even at all for that matter). But I hope it does. I hope I take the opportunity, seize it, own it, and come out of this a better person, ready to receive the world with open arms.

Over these past two weeks, I have been taken on one of the heaviest roller coaster rides of my life. With Olympic fever winding the city, I am still in a daze with all that has gone on in the past 14 days.  In the beginning, it was hard to stay positive. We are the hollow men / We are the stuffed men /…/ More distant and more solemn / Than a fading star. This is the poem we were analysing in class when I found out that Georgian luger Nodar Kumaritashvili died on the track during a training run. I cannot remember the last time I had felt so empty. Probably when Luke Bourdon died two years back, the day before my birthday. This city has seen enough dead kids. This is the way the world ends / Not with a bang but a whimper. Eliot spoke the truth. However, an incredible opening ceremony later that night (and a heart-melting performance by K.D. Lang) settled the storm, reminding me what the games were all about, so that I was able to enjoy the following days of sport. And when Alexandre Bilodeau took home the gold, there was none happier than I. There are no more hollow men. Canada is alive, and unstoppable. These games have created the most tangible element of Canadian identity I have ever seen. Downtown Vancouver resembles New York, and the level of patriotism is right on par with our southern neighbour. I was born in Ottawa, Ontario, our nation’s capital, and I have Aboriginal ancestry. My genetic makeup represents both Canadian multiculturalism, and a merger of French and English Canada. Because of this, I have always been a very proud Canadian. But I have never felt so good to call this country home as I have in the past week. We are proving to the world that, yes, we do have culture; yes, we do have patriotism; yes, we do have an identity; and its all wrapped up in a red and white parcel of maple leaves. And while I think that the protesters have some good points, you cannot put a price on what I have just described. I truly believe that these games, deficit and all, were worth it- are worth it. If you are not convinced, all you need to do is look around. Go outside and feel the electricity in the air. Magic is real. Though the games have been fantastic, the true catalyst for my current state of national pride was when we were visited by Ambassador Tundevdorj, who is in town from Mongolia for the Olympics. A tear welled up in my eye when he told us in his broken English that we are “gorgeous people” for doing what we do. I cannot wait to go to Mongolia, and wear the maple leaf proudly on my chest while giving a leg-up to a forgotten village. The Olympics have been the best thing to happen to this city- to this country- in quite a while. And right now, no one (not even T.S. Eliot) can rain on my parade.

Two weeks ago, our class was trucking 80 when we hit a massive speed bump. We got some air time then bottomed out as our vehicle exploded. Following this was the inevitable blame game and dangerously futile battle of pride. No one was backing down, which of course only made the situation worse. While our car could have easily been at the repair shop by now, it was rusting on the side of the road. Hot heads were getting the better of everybody’s judgement. But we pulled through. We returned to the wrecked vehicle, albeit a week later, and pushed it all the way to Craftsman Collision ourselves. It was hard work, but it was more than worth it. Now, after some welding, hammering, molding, and a sweet new paint job, this show is back on the road. This experience has certainly opened my eyes to the frailty of our little operation. I now have a better understanding of the necessity of communication in everything that we do, and of the ensuing sense of commitment involved with that. We all signed up for Global knowing full well that it would be difficult; it would challenge our every fabrics, repel what had been conditioned into us by society, and open our eyes to the realities of the world, be they sad, cruel, disgusting, or even profoundly beautiful. I must say that during our two week malfunction, the song “Someday” by The Strokes was running through my head. “You see alone we stand together we fall apart / I think I’ll be all right / I’m working so I won’t have to try so hard / Tables they turn sometimes, oh someday / I ain’t wasting no more time.” I repeated that last line in my head many times as if it were some form of justification for the first. It was, I admit, a completely sophomoric, and, in hindsight, a little embarrassing that I could have let emotions get the better of me to such a large extent. However, after an enlightening and reassuring class last day, we were able to debrief the events that unfolded, discus why our car remained scrap metal for so long, and collaborate to devise progressive solutions to our problems. At the end of it all, we have come out stronger, and much better prepared for the issues that we will no doubt face down the road.

Last night, we put on a fundraiser at UBC during their basketball game against Fraser Valley. We had a raffle and a silent auction. In total, we made $940, a formidable sum on the night. We had all been organized according to what Mr. Matheny likes to call “The Matrix,” which actually worked out quite nicely. We were all organized and efficient when it came time to draw the winning raffle tickets. Everybody did their job, and was quick to disperse the information to the various people who needed it. I personally had a pretty good time, as I got to work with some people I do not usually work with. And I got to be better acquaintances with Troy and Moe, two of the other adults that will be accompanying us; as well as Dave McCallum, who is replacing Mr. Hammerschmidt on the trip. Again, as with all our events, there were pros and cons. The cons this time were being where we were supposed to be on time and ready to go, and succumbing to a little bit of horseplay near the end. However, the pros of this event highly outweigh the cons in my opinion. We worked together as a team, making sure that everyone in the building was aware that we were there. Through it all, we made a fantastic impression on UBC, who have already invited the next generation to return next year. The experience overall was a positive one. For me, I was able to absorb myself into the UBC culture, which is a good thing since I plan to attend there next year. It really does feel like its own little community, and has such a positive pulse. I am finally beginning to get excited about university. Lessons were learned last night just like all the nights, and much was gained. It is unfortunate that the Steve Nash jersey in the silent auction was never claimed. But these things happen, and we cannot let them hold us down. But in my experience, I have found that these things tend to work out for the better. Like maybe the next time we put it for bid, it will go for even higher. Also, the Toronto Raptors signed shoe was never claimed in the raffle. This again is a good thing, as it can now re-enter our bank of items, and go for more money next time. Overall, it was a grand experience. I look forward to watching next year’s kids do it, while I enjoy the game as a student of UBC.

A few days ago, we were told by Mr. Matheny who was to replace Mr. Hammerschmidt when we go to Mongolia. It will be Mr. Matheny’s cousin, Dave McCallum, whom we all met last night at the UBC basketball game. In class, Mr. Matheny was explaining to us why he chose his cousin. Nepotism aside, Mr. McCallum is a teacher in Surrey. He had expressed to Mr. Matheny ambitions to commence a Global Perspectives program at his school. Obviously excited, Mr. Matheny tried to think of ways to show him the ropes of the program. So when a spot opened up to go to Mongolia, he was asked as an obvious candidate. Mr McCallum agreed, and will now be the one accompanying us in March. I was really excited about this news because of something that Mr. Matheny said; something I had not thought of before. He said: “why isn’t there a program like this in every school?” After I thought about it, I realized that I could not answer that question. There is no reason why Global Perspectives should not be more widespread. Our school has had over fifteen years of success with the program. I would have thought that our influence would have rubbed off on at least one other school. But lo and behold, we remain an independent program. Thus, the second I heard that Mr. McCallum was interested in commencing the program at another school, I got excited too. If it works out, then we will go down in the history books. We will have started a movement. This prospect got me so excited, that I finally felt that we were getting somewhere. Of course, we build up our network- every year it gets more impressive. But associations with organizations can only go so far. If we want this to survive in the long run, we need others to pick up the reins and help. If Surrey has a school involved with the program, they can get another school involved, and they too can activate yet another; and so on and so forth until we make a legion of young Canadians eager to relinquish ignorance, building schools in developing nations. This right here is what it feels like to be a part of something; something big. Something bigger than yourself. It is a feeling that I have been searching for my entire life. And now I have found it.

A few weeks ago, we were burdened with the news that one of our beloved program teachers would not be accompanying us on the trip to Mongolia. It was a shocking piece of news, since we all knew how much the trip and the program means to Mr. Hammerschmidt, who is now set to miss his second year in a row. Hearts were heavy as we digested the news, then switched to anxiety almost immediately as we were unsure about who would take his place. Throughout the following two weeks, our class within itself threw around many names, trying to figure out which teacher would accompany us. For me, this time was extra stressful because my father, a teacher at the school, was up for consideration. He had already replaced Mr. Hammerschmidt last year for the Paraguay trip, and was therefore the logical choice to invite to Mongolia. This time was quite stressful for me because, as bad as it sounds, I did not want my father to come with us. I am not usually a selfish person by any means of the word, but for this, I had to be. My father and I have an immeasurably terrific relationship. We are always a team when it comes to doing things, especially manual labour. But for this trip, I felt it was important that I do it alone. I was looking forward to that sense of independence- that liberated feeling with no parent intervention- that I was willing to be selfish to get it. I truly believe that half the experience of the trip is the no parent factor. We need to prove our own place in the world as independent young adults. It will be an opportunity to learn, develop, and grow as a person, and as an adult. This is something that I need to do alone. Though I love my father to pieces, I really did not want him to come on the trip. Thankfully, my anxieties were put to rest when, last week, we were told who would be accompanying us. It will be Mr. Matheny’s cousin, Dave McCallum. While the rest of the class felt shocked and uneasy about the decision (since this person was from outside our school), I felt relief. I would have my independence after all. My eases along with that of the rest of the class undoubtedly culminated last night at our UBC night, where we met Mr. McCallum. He was a cool guy, and put in a tremendous effort to talk with us. He and I really hit it off with an interesting conversation. I think this was a good decision, and that things are really going to work out. I will conclude this blog with a blessing of good health to Mr. Hammerschmidt. We all hope that you will stay fresh and healthy so that we can tell you all about our endeavours when we arrive back home.

I sit at the dining room table

The smell of Christmas turkey

Ignites feelings of the childhood nostalgia

I hold so dear

Only, something is missing

Dad is at work

Says he couldn’t get the time off

And he really wishes he could be here

I wish I could believe him

 

You wait in line at the food bank

Praying that there’s enough

So you won’t cringe in hungry agony

Not tonight

This day used to be good for you

Used to be for you what it is for me

But not anymore

Not since your mom got angry

And hurt you

Not since you left

You breathe in the chill of December air

And thank the heavens it isn’t snowing

Or raining

Thank the heavens that it’s just very cold

 

Uncle Jim dives in for seconds

Aunt Judy claims she couldn’t eat another bite

And leaves a healthy slice of turkey

On her unpolished plate

I pull up closer to the fireplace

Warm, so very warm

I watch the red and orange dance

Filling the room with glee

 

You watch the same bright magic dance

In a vacant lot

Roaring out the mouth of a garbage pale

Which you hover over for heat

The rarity of warmth

The unusual warmth draws others

You are eager to share

And there are smiles all around

When one boy gives to you

His only offering: a slice of bread

You accept

And feel a new kind of warm

Than the one created by the blazing beauty

 

Mom offers me the last slice of bread

The fresh aroma of home-baked goodness engulfs me

I take it

Even though I’m full

I take it

And indulge in the soft, moist, buttery delight

I think about you

As I eat it

I think about you

But what can I do?

If I spit the bread out

If I had said no

Would that have helped you?

No

I am powerless

You can’t eat the meal that remains

On Aunt Judy’s plate

 

The inferno dies down

At that, your newfound company invites you with them

You go

To an abandoned warehouse

And a smile wipes across you face

A Christmas indoors

And with friends, to boot

What more could you ask for?

 

I open my presents

Disappointment

I had not gotten

The only thing I really wanted

The only thing I asked for

But I hid my feelings well

And thanked mom just the same

I know she really tried

And so I tell myself

Maybe next year will be better

Maybe I will get what I wanted

Maybe dad will be home too

Is that really too much to ask for?

 

And then I think of you

You who, in this very moment

Does not complain

Does not get angry

Does not feel empty

When I do

And I seriously wonder

Though the question’s quite ridiculous

Though the answer’s quite pathetic

And leaves me but to crumble

In more of my misery state

I honestly contemplate

For I haven’t a clue

At this very moment who is happier

Me or you?