Mama Diop's Lesson

Introduction:

How did you spend your Thanksgiving? Was it with family, friends, or new acquaintances? Maybe you had to work or you volunteered at a food pantry, a homeless shelter, a hospital, or jail? Perhaps you attended a service of thanks at a mosque, church or temple? Were you alone or perhaps with your favorite animal? Wherever and with whomever you spent the day, were you able to express yourself without being judged? Were you able to refrain from judging others? This year seems to screech salacious descriptors by people from one side of a divide to those on the other. Why is this happening? I think about Rodgers and Hammerstein’s lyrics from their 1949 musical South Pacific: “You’ve got to be carefully taught… to hate and fear…all the people your relatives hate…” I think also of Lin-Manuel Miranda’s words in the song “One Shot” from his play Hamilton: “You’ve got to be carefully taught. If you talk, you’re gonna’ get shot.” Who teaches these lessons? Who can teach alternative ones? The following story offers an alternative way to carefully teach our children - not about fear and hatred, but rather about curiosity and love. That way is needed more than ever.

Mama Diop’s Lesson

People are interesting. Some say stupid things and some say brilliant things - at least that’s how most of us categorize what others say. And a very special group of interesting people hear both ...and learn to be better angels because of that. Let me tell you about that group.

Imagine three children: Jessie, Aneka and Jose. Each is 6 years old. When we first meet them in our story, they are playing in the day care center of their Brooklyn, New York housing project. It’s a snowy day outside so the center is full of activities that keep fifty-plus preschoolers constructively occupied and warm. In one corner, a black board is covered with colorful chalk drawings that several children are erasing and, then, redrawing with reindeers pulling red and green New York City taxis, not yellow ones. In another corner are small tables covered with poster paper next to crayons of funny named colors like asparagus, mango tango, or granny smith apple. Between corners there are furf ball games, ballet and dance classes, and, of course, a story telling circle. Jessie, Aneka and Jose are in that circle.

And so is Mama Diop. An elder of the Senegalese immigrant community, Mama Diop volunteers daily at the center. She is renowned for her sing-a-long voice that mesmerizes everyone during story-telling time, even the adults. Any child in the middle of an emotional melt-down is calmed in less than a minute by the soothing voice of Mama Diop saying “Oh, beautiful child, you are a gift from the Gods and once were a magical eagle soaring high in the sky. What do you want me to see through your eagle eyes?” Immediately, the child stops crying, looks straight into Mama Diop’s eyes and frowns. “I was an eagle?” the child queries. “Yes, beautiful child. Long, long, long ago, in the world of snow-capped mountains and lush green valleys, you were an eagle.” The child immediately tells all that he sees as an eagle. The melt-down has turned into a grand adventure of magical sightings.

On this snowy day, Jessie, Aneka and Jose are sitting right up close to Mama Diop. They don’t want to miss a word she is saying. But today is going to be different according to Mama Diop. “How about we create our story together?” she asks. “You are all so interesting. I bet you have many, many ideas to share.” The three look at each other with frowns on their faces. They have never created a story before, and they aren’t too sure what the word “interesting” even means.

“What does interesting mean, Mama Diop?” asks Jessie. “Ah, ha,” says Mama Diop. “Let’s find out. Close your eyes, Jessie, and tell me what you see.” Jessie does exactly what Mama Diop asks. “Oh, I see a tiny white rabbit eating a huge, poka-dotted carrot.”

“Well, my, my, that’s interesting,” Mama Diop responds with her lilting voice singing the words.

“And Aneka, close your eyes and tell us where the rabbit is.” Aneka closes her eyes. “She’s eating in a flower garden on top of a pink cushion that has lace around all its sides.”

Jose jumps in and says “You’re both so stupid, Jessie and Aneka. No rabbit eats a poka-dot carrot or sits on a pink cushion with lace on it.”

“Hold on, Jose” says Mama Diop. ”Why can’t a rabbit eat a poka-dot carrot and sit on a pink cushion with lace surrounding it?”

“Yeah,” exclaim Jessie and Aneka together. “Why not?”

“Well… well…. it just isn’t possible,” he says emphatically.

“Ah, but Jose if we use our imaginations and create a story about a magical rabbit eating a magical carrot in a magical garden on a magical cushion, maybe you would wonder how that could happen?”

“Well, I guess so. Is that what interesting, means?”

“Yes, Jose, anything that makes you imagine is interesting. Good for you, you just learned a new word.” Jose smiled.

“Can I add something interesting to the story?” he begs. “Of course,” said Mama Diop.

Jose closed his eyes. “The rabbit jumps off the cushion, turns around three times and his huge carrot becomes a diamond-studded, motorcycle.”

Aneka is still fuming at Jose’s remark about her being stupid so it is not surprising when she belts out. “That’s stupid, Jose. No carrot can become a motorcycle, let alone a diamond-studded one!”

“Mama Diop, am I stupid?” he bemoaned.

“Absolutely not, Jose. Neither you nor Jessie nor Aneka is stupid. You all are brilliant since you joined together to hear each other share your parts of a very interesting story. No one is stupid who opens up to the magic of how others imagine…and what others believe. Others may call you stupid, but they don’t yet know your brilliance, nor do they probably know their own. They just need to imagine more about what others can bring to a story – the interesting magic within each of us. And that’s what you three did.”

So, dear readers, as we leave Mama Diop, Jessie, Aneka and Jose, and the other children in the Brooklyn center on that snowy day, we are back to our original statement: People are interesting; some say stupid things and some say brilliant things. And some say both.

A question remains: What do you hear?