The Lessons of Being Mama Kubwa
I'm a big girl. I have been on and off since I was a teenager. Larger than life for years at a time followed by a period of obsessive focus on diet and exercise followed by a few months or, if I'm lucky, a few years in a much smaller, healthier, stronger body through which my soul can be seen.
Most recently, I've been on the upswing of that cycle. Friends in Tanzania have watched me gain over 100 pounds over the past three years, earning me a nickname I'd only accept as a statement of fact from my dearest friends: Mama Kubwa.
In English, "Big Mama".
At many points, I've wondered what lesson it is that this constant struggle with my weight has been teaching me.
I've learned, of course, as if it's been burned into me, that bigger is not always better. Like when you're shopping for clothes. Or trying to fit comfortably in the middle seat of an airplane.
More recently, I find myself trying to remember that the best things don't always come in small packages either. After all, I am beautiful, strong and proud. And big. Though I've long thought otherwise, my bigness doesn't make me less beautiful - or less anything, really.
Then, this morning in the shower, where all truly great epiphanies seem to arrive, I think I had my greatest insight so far into what this struggle may be trying to teach me. I remembered this passage I'd written in February 2007, just after the first few weeks I'd spent with Mama Lucy:
Last night over dinner, Sanjay asked me what I thought I might be like if I had been born here [in Tanzania]. I hope I would be like her [Mama Lucy]. I fear, however, that I don't possess her ability to succeed slowly and in small steps. She is able to relish (and appropriately so) the small miracles that she witnesses and inspires every day. While she focuses and builds upon those, I believe I might instead focus on everything that hadn't yet happened, thus obscuring the magnitude of what had been achieved. I hope to learn from her and grow - passionate progress before perfection.Right now, I'm in the midst of losing 100 pounds. Again. But this time, I plan to do it differently. No crash diet. No radical carb-free lifestyle. No four hours a day at the gym. No focus on the 100 pounds I've yet to lose, but a celebration of every ounce of progress. This time, I plan to succeed like Mama Lucy has taught me: slowly and in small steps. Pole, pole. Kidogo, kidogo. And I don't intend to put off dancing until I lose all the weight. (In fact, I danced today.) We're constantly plotting revolutions. Expecting immediate gratification & radical global change overnight. We ignore everyday miracles & lament, get distracted, grow weary or worse yet, give up, when the world isn't healed in a day. What miracles are we overlooking while we focus on what we have not?
Posted: January 12th, 2011 under The Foundry.
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I've never seen Mama Lucy look so happy. I imagine this is a glimpse of what each of us would look like if we were doing exactly what we were meant to do in the world, and had the support of the world to do it.
The children's faces speak for themselves. I imagine this is what it feels like when you're moving into a new home