MOTHERING

BY TRACY SCHLAPP

A pair of ducks settled into the Memorial Healing Garden at Oregon State Penitentiary when the prison was closed to outside volunteers and visitors. Randy G. watched the family closely, drawing lessons from the nesting mother, as they both anticipated the arrival of new life. You see, Randy was reentered the world after spending 33 years living in solitary confinement on death row. As eggs hatched and the ducklings grew, he paid attention. Soon, the ducklings were learning to swim in the lotus pond. A few days later, they were navigating their way through the koi pond. From his observations, Randy penned a story about this miracle of the ordinary (because that is how it must feel to watch wild creatures inhabit a prison, even if the space is as lovely as the Memorial Healing Garden.) The opportunity to touch the natural world, a day sweating in the sun among trees, the stewardship of the land, this is the work of human repair and restoration. Observing the men working side by side or using the space to lead counseling sessions, there is no question that our connection to caring for living beings restores our sense of humanity. Perhaps this is why Randy, who had not hugged his mother for 35 years, felt such connection with the Mama Duck. He knew that he could learn from her, and those lessons would transfer to his fellows. This spring a new brood is waddling around the koi pond — their mother hatched in the garden just two years ago. Since the end of Covid, Randy has had the opportunity to hug his mother at the 2022 Juneteenth Celebration hosted by the Uhuru Sasa Club, and subsequent visits during other club-based social events.

In the next few weeks, we will release writing that contains themes of parenting filled with courage in the face of loss and separation. Kosal So’s “homage to her feet” stopped us in our tracks with its exacting beauty. Every sentence I write to set up this poem, pales in comparison to Kosal So’s work itself: she wrapped her fragile child/in delicate sarong,/carried him through war-wounded soil. When his mother left Cambodia, did she know that she was delivering a poet to US soil?

In “Child of the Diaspora” AbdurRashid Al-Wadud suffers family loss in rapid succession: first his grandmother and then the next generation of father, aunt, and mother. Through this time of instability, AbdurRashid, a scholar, begins to research his genealogy. In this study, he becomes keeper of the stories: “The pressure built with the loss of each family member until Mama’s passing cracked my soul. I felt lost, but I knew I could not give up.”

During the 2022 Pow Wow hosted by Lakota Oyate-ki Club, we were gifted this painting by Miguel Mendoza. Notice how the little girl clutches her doll securely against her chest, her right hand rests lightly over the left hand’s tight, protective hold. The image reminds me that we learn to parent, a skill that comes from observation and the practice of playing with dolls. It is an act of attachment and then learning to let go. | TDS