I have been a somewhat lax blogger this summer and have been meaning to post some things here and there to update you on what I have been doing, but never got around to actually doing it. But here I am, at my laptop again, struggling this time because the words aren’t flowing. My dear, sweet friend Shirley Case was one of the women killed on August 13th in Afghanistan when a group of Taliban members ambushed a car she was traveling in with three other aid workers with the IRC as well as their driver, an Afghan named Aimal. Until this point in time, I have been mulling over the news – shock, disbelief, pain, and anger.
I hesitate to write anything because I don’t want to trivialize a life well lived, a heart so true and a sadness that is deep. I don’t want Shirley to be just another person appearing in the news, and then forgotten. She was so much more than that.
The last time I saw Shirley was at my going away dinner in Aceh. My final day there was filled with sadness but also immense joy. I look back on my time there as some of the happiest times of my life, and Shirley was a large part of that. Although I hadn’t been there long, I had formed such strong connections with people there and had to stop myself from crying several times throughout the day. I didn’t want to step away from the special life experience and lessons and most notably the people I had met throughout my time there.
I had a small going away dinner the night before I left and Martin, Kate, Nina and Shirley all came out to send me off in style. Finding “Western” items in Aceh could sometimes prove a difficult task, which only made the delicious chocolate cake that Shirley conjured up for me all the more special. She was so excited to present it to me, and we all dug in and enjoyed the beautiful night and our shared happiness in finding each other and forming the bonds that we had formed while we were in Aceh.
In her toast to me, Shirley said that I was “One of the most ‘American’ people she had ever known – in all of the best ways possible!” After I posted her quote on my blog the day after I left Aceh, she e-mailed me:
Good morning Alexis,
I hope that this email finds you happy and healthy and hiding out in house 4. that is for sure.
So. You are on your
way...it was so nice to have you join in the Banda Aceh scene - even if for such
a short time. Will look forward to the next time our paths cross...
What I meant about
being American, in a positive way:
- you are so amazingly
friendly and curious
- you are so kind and
generous.
- so freaking funny.
- so freaking
genuine!!!!!!
Enjoy. Enjoy. Enjoy.
By the way, I sent the link to your blog to my mom, asking her if she wanted to trade me in for a model that writes - and she said that she got very emotional reading your Ibu story - and so, she thanks you, and says that although she is not ready to trade me in, she would like to one day meet you!
Safe travels.
S
As you can tell from the e-mail above, Shirley was always encouraging, unfailingly funny, endlessly sweet, and had a knack for looking at life in the best way possible. I understood her toast, which addressed some of the complexities of being an American abroad, and hadn’t taken offense…but Shirley wanted to make sure that I understood exactly what she meant. That was just the sort of gal she was.
Kate was back last week for Shirley’s memorial service at the IRC and then on to her funeral in British Columbia. It was great to see Kate, but it also made me so sad. Kate was back from Afghanistan over the 4th of July and I went up to Maine to see her. When I saw Kate again here in NYC, it felt as if years had gone by, not just a month. Kate is the best hugger and when we saw each other, I didn’t want to let her go. I know that Kate loved Shirley so much – we all did – and she had been working in Afghanistan with Shirley since she had come over with the IRC in June.
As Kate and I had lunch, we laughed about our trip together to Takengon when we were all in Indonesia. We had a long weekend and Shirley had arranged for all of us to rent a car and a driver and go to a lake about 8 hours away on twisty, windy roads. Shirley was sick and spent almost the entire trip curled up in a fetal position, chirping in here and there as we all swapped stories, listened to music and watched the beautiful Indonesian countryside pass us by.
Ivana talked about her family back in Serbia and her grandmothers who make the most amazing cheese until all of our mouths were watering, Shirley talked about her love of Canada and her name, (“only people’s aunts are named Shirley!”) and I’m sure I told a story or two about Nebraska. Shirley and I also found out that we shared a favorite tune: "Summer Breeze." I told a story of how it reminded me of a boy who had broken my heart, and she later confided in me that it reminded her of a boy who had broken hers as well.
Kate told us about a house for sale near her family’s home in Maine called David’s Folly. She described it as a huge, rustic house on a beautiful part of a lake and lamented that she didn’t have the money to buy it herself. We all fantasized about pooling our money together and buying that house up in Maine. I do believe that was when my big idea for a Fruit Expo – showcasing all of the delicious fruit in the world – came into existence. We all had a good laugh and Shirley was especially encouraging of my “big idea” that would help us raise the money needed to buy the place and call it ours.
We fantasized about how we would all live together, spend holidays there, take care of the house together, go to far-off places to do aid work and then coming back to relax at the house in Maine. We talked about the parties we would hold there, the swims we would take on the lake, and the big, family-style dinners we would eat together with all of our friends, who would be welcome anytime.
The funny thing is, none of us had even seen the house before but we talked about it as if we already owned it on that sunny day on our drive to Takengon. I fantasized about knowing these people forever, and didn’t see why I wouldn’t. At that time we were all homeless, stateless, visitors in a foreign country and at different points in our life. Our shared vision of David’s Folly brought us together and we all made room for each other in this idealized future, this life not yet lived, a life that couldn’t ever be lived but existed in that car that day.
Shirley spoke of this feeling of community in an e-mail she sent shortly after she arrived in Afghanistan in June. More important than my friendship with Shirley is the work that she did her entire life on behalf of people in need. Her work in Afghanistan focused on inclusive education and ensuring that disabled kids had the right to education there. The e-mail she sent spoke to the heart of what Shirley believed and the work that she did there:
Being here in Afghanistan definitely speaks to the complexity of humanitarianism, politics, security, civil war, religious idealogy...and also speaks to community. Community in the sense that everyone has their community, communities of all varieties...your colleagues become your community...either people that you have met along the way...or new people that come into your life...and then your work goes to support other communities, in my case the Inclusive Education community, which is embedded in the overall Education community - which then works to reach out to individual villages...with staff being from a variety of backgrounds - on our team, the five Inclusive Education Officers have backgrounds in Engineering, Agriculture and Justice...each person I have met has a story that makes you want to sit down for tea for the afternoon - the adversity they have overcome, their commitment to their country...more to come!
I have to believe that all of the goodness that was Shirley, all of the silliness, all of her wonderment at the world and most of all her desire to help people – through her actions, not just her words – isn’t gone from the world. I have to believe that a light so true can’t be put out. I’m not angry at those men, I’m angry at a world that exists where innocent people are killed.
I carry Shirley with me now, and every day since I had the pleasure of meeting her. She was with me on my final interview last week for the job I was crossing my fingers in hopes of getting and she was there when I found out that I had gotten it. She was there when I tried to be a little nicer to Rusel about leaving dirty dishes in the sink. She was there when I had to make a split-second decision about being nice or rude to someone on the subway, and I decided that Shirley would’ve been kind so I was, too.
She’s here with me always.
I’ll never forget you, Shirls.
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