The Blue Sweater by Jacqueline Novogratz

Author:Jacqueline Novogratz [Novogratz, Jacqueline]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Amazon: B001QTWIS6
Publisher: Rodale Books
Published: 2009-03-03T07:00:00+00:00

Inside the village, we sat together with the women and were handed cool coconut water-which had never tasted better. The women stood in the sun and made presentations about their work fighting for rights and for freedom. When they finished, they performed a beautiful Hindi song for us. The leader then turned to us and asked if we would do them the honor of singing something, too. All of the Americans looked at one another, none of us being used to spontaneously singing songs in front of strangers.

"Is there a song we all even know?" someone joked. Finally, we chose "We Shall Overcome." It felt appropriate, and at least we all knew the words.

We started singing, embarrassed and tentative at first, but gaining steam with each word. Suddenly, some of the village women stood to join us in their native language, clearly knowing the words. Midway through those determined lyrics, every person standing held hands and sang as loudly as he or she could in a mix of languages, yet with a singular spirit-50 Indian women smiling, and 8 Americans in tears.

In preparing for one of the first workshops, I visited Phnom Penh, Cambodia, in 1994, 20 years after Pol Pot had ripped the society apart, to meet an elderly Buddhist monk named Maha Ghosananda. As a symbol of peace and reconciliation, he was reviving the tradition of Dhammayietra, a nationwide pilgrimage across the country, including parts that were covered in land mines. He agreed to meet me at the temple where he lived, a simple place painted white on the outside, with neat wooden floors and open windows. Young monks shooed boys playing with guns around the temple, as the boys laughed and pretended to shoot at them.

On the second floor, Maha Ghosananda waited in his saffron robes, seated on a maroon cushion laid on a rice mat in a large, airy room. In front of him was another mat for me. Bowing hello, I sat on my shins, notebook open. Although I could feel his quiet strength, nervously I rushed through an introduction to what I was doing and told him how grateful I was to see him.

I felt like a young journalist, driven but totally out of my element.

He smiled and slowly bowed his head in acknowledgment.

"Would you tell me about the peace marches, how you have the courage to lead them, whether you have lost anyone along the way?" I asked almost breathlessly.

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