Fear

This is the first of many subsequent posts that will focus on the work I am doing this semester in representing my first client, a female asylum seeker from Rwanda. First of all, I assure every reader that what I say in these postings is completely legal--I will not give away any identifying information of my client and these posts will, I expect, focus more on my experiences rather than the gory details of my client. But at times, those might play a part as well. Just wanted to assuage any concerns that I am acting in an unethical manner talking about this. I assure you, I am not, so here we go...

Fear. What is fear? I mean, we can all define it for ourselves. I'm afraid of spiders and heights, and we all have our own individual definitions of what fear is for ourselves. But what does it mean to really fear something? Is every fear equal to every other, simply because it is such an individual emotion? Are there some fears that are fundamental to all of us, that are shared, and thus possibly more weighty than others?

The immediate answer is OF COURSE. My fear of spiders does not equal in weight to someone who is battling cancer to their fear of death. Or to a seeker of asylum who has witnessed atrocities you and I cannot imagine, but that are so indelible in their minds that the mere mention of sex, or rape, or torture or siblings can illicit an emotional response. And if you add to that a continued terrorizing for more than a decade, fear can take on a whole different meaning.

I learned, while in Dadaab, that fear often manifests itself in desperation--desperation to alleviate themselves of the acts that evoke such an emotion. Desperation, in turn, results in doing anything they can to remove themselves from the environment that is the catalyst of such emotion. Doing anything results, often, but not always, in fabrication of details. Fear is a tricky thing, indeed.

I reviewed my client's case file for the first time tonight. The interviews with the Asylum Officer (AO) who denied her asylum claim initially, leading to her placement in my hands. I looked at this initial file, which was thin and which will become thicker and more compelling as the semester moves forward, with a remarkable amount of fear. Here it is, sitting before me, page after page, a client's life. A person's life. A woman's fear. And the true knowledge of the responsibility that has been given to me has begun to sink in.

We all (I hope. Oh good God I hope) know what happened in Rwanda. And if you're sketchy on the details, I encourage you to read "We Wish To Inform You That Tomorrow We Will Be Killed With Our Families" by Philip Gourevitch--because it is a history that we should all be aware of. Entire families, entire villages being slaughtered. In homes, in town squares. In churches where people looked to their God, their Christian God, for protection. Children who watched their parents and siblings murdered in the most basic and gruesome ways. Governments who sat back and allowed this to happen. Who continue to allow this to happen. This is the history of my client. This is the fear she possesses.

You'd think, on first glance, that this case should be a slam dunk. I mean come on, it's RWANDA for god's sake. But the laws of asylum are complex and they are not friendly, or in favor of those seeking refuge. It's been 13 years since the end of the official genocide, but the fear persists, and for good reason. As we have all seen with the case of Kenya recently, governments are fragile, particularly those that have had a history of adversity. Rwanda is no exception, and the killing and torture and persecution have not ended.

I think fear can be healthy, in certain situations. I think the fear that I have about my upcoming endeavor is absolutely essential, acting as an impetus for me to perform every task to my absolute best ability. So I am not ashamed of it. And it's important to respect fear--while recognizing the many faces it can take.

This will be a battle...but one that I am ready to take on. Because as cheesy as this may sound, for every fear there is truth, it's just a matter of finding it.

Things to be Thankful For

I wrote a post last night that I have since removed, I thought it too personal about someone other than me. But my mama and sis read it, and I'm glad they did, because it was about my sister who I love more than any gal on earth and who I am more proud of than anyone--and her recent struggles as a mentor, teacher, humanitarian, savior and friend have made me think about the things we all can be thankful for.

This month has proved to be a challenging one for many people who I am closest to. My sister who is struggling with the decisions she makes about her students--what is right, what her role in their lives is, the power that she wields. And she has made nothing but the best, right and most difficult choices. My great and unwavering friend H, whose 34 year old boss has just been diagnosed with a cancer that is rare, and progressive. And terrifying. She has been thrust into a role at work that is overwhelming and often lonely. He has been thrust into a fight for his life that will change everything. And that will give all of us pause. And finally my great friend M, whose mama is battling another cancer, which is the greatest fear I think any child can imagine. And she faces it with honesty and pause and grace.

The three gals are three of the strongest I know. And I love them all, and know that my role in each of their individual struggles is, in it self, individual. But it has made me think of all the things, this holiday season, I am thankful for. I am thankful for the fact I have these relationships and that they mean so much to all of us. And that we all have shoulders to lean on. I am more grateful than anything about the family in which I was raised, that has allowed the development of strength and hope in the person that I am. And I love that I can look at my friends and see the amazing women they are--cultivated through family, love, hardship, and friendship.

Storms rage around us on a daily basis. I am thankful that within the eye of the worst, there are refuges for all of us. And I hope, more than anything, that I can act as a small one for my closest folks. There is joy in the air, amidst the struggle. And that is what we need to inhale deeply while pushing through the rest.

Where Am I Going, Where Have I Been?

I am fairly certain that no one is actually checking this blog anymore since I have been silent for weeks now. But as it is a great mode of decompression for me, I am going to keep writing and hope that anyone who loyally reads might come and take another look.

The past three weeks have been...intense. And tiring. And have forced me to really evaluate what it is that makes me happy, where I want to be, and what I want to be doing with this kind of complicated life that I lead. I exhaust myself, at times, in the sense that I feel like there are so many people making the decision to just join the firm, work the corporate law job, put one foot in front of the other as we are told to do in law school. And then there's me. I struggle against the easy decisions. I like to make things more complicated than they have to be. I question everything and often to my own detriment. But in this case, in the case of my job, I like to think it's because I actually value being happy. I know, most people do, but unlike a lot of other folks, I actually have a fairly strong sense and handle on what creates my happiness.

Project finance, shockingly, does not. Corporate finance also does not rank too high on the DLS happiness scale. I like to think that I can be that person who gets the job done, who reviews financing agreements for 100 million dollar deals 17 times to make sure commas are placed in the right spaces, defined terms are capitlized, and that every last period is placed exactly where it needs to be. But where is the fulfillment in that? Who am I helping? What am I contributing to? Surely, our client. Perhaps acting as the lender, perhaps in the role of the borrower on any given deal. I can argue that in this firm I am helping the environment, as much of the project finance work that is being done is for clients who are working on renewable energy projects, biodiesel, windmills, etc. But at the end of the day, where is the tangible gain that allows me, in my somewhat crazy and not always rational world, to put my one foot in front of the other?

This job makes me feel lonely. It's what I realized about 2 days ago. It's a feeling that has been creeping very slowly over me since week One. It makes me want to be dating someone so I can feel a physical and emotional closeness to a person, because there is no emotional depth at all to the work I am doing. I commented to my friend J that this is the first time, I do believe, in my professional life (or my personal life) that I feel like I am not doing something that has a positive impact on individuals, or that makes someone's life a little easier (ok ok, except the partner's, who is making BANK from these deals. His life is easier. Thank God). It is bothersome, and depressing. To this same friend (poor guy, he bears the brunt of my musings these days), late one night, as I was chatting with him while watching the clock tick eternal at my desk while drafting schedules to agreements, I realized I actually felt really really sad.

I don't balk from emotion. I appreciate it, I bask in it, I like to feel because it makes me feel alive. But I don't like the empty and lonely sadness I have felt passing over me, sometimes lingering, in waves over the past month. But what do I do? Where am I going from here?

I have been many places in my life. I like to think that from each place where I have paused, I have taken something with me. One of my most prized takings is the volumes of journals I kept while in Mali, and the very public journal I kept on this site last summer while I was in Kenya. I revisited both of these this past weekend and was reminded of where I have been and where I would like to be going. After a particularly trying week in Mali, about at the time I had passed a year in my village, I wrote "There are times I want to stand on my roof so everyone in the village can see and hear me and tell these people who keep bringing me their children and their parents and their relatives who are ill, asking me to heal them with by touch or magic medicine, that I CANNOT SAVE YOU PEOPLE, the only person who can save you is yourselves." The last post I wrote while in the refugee camp last summer ended with this:

"But that is why I will keep coming back to this as the place where my heart lies. There is such honesty and truth in suffering, and the only way to respond is likewise. I cannot imagine a life that is void of this feeling--trying to find a way to better the lives of people who cannot do it on their own. In the end, there is no us and them."

I still feel that way. But now, in this moment, or from the moment I re-read it, it dawned on me: the only person who can save me is myself, and I have not lost the desire to feel as intensely passionate about something as I did last summer. Dramatic, but true. I can sit at my desk and feel...helpless. I can look around and come up with myriad reasons why this firm and the people here are creating my depression and angst (and it would not be a lie). But I am the only person, just me, who will determine where my foot is placed next. And when I make that decision about where I am going, I will know that it is right.

Maybe it will be back here. It most likely will be, as 180k in debt aint gonna pay itself off. But a lot can happen in a year or two. (Yes. I just linked to myself. Because I am that cool). I'll let everyone know when my footing is back to be being solid.

What Would You Do In 4 Months?

This has been an intense day for DLS. It started so nicely. A leisurely morning in bed, followed by a lovely walk to the Metro Center area of DC for some shopping for "firm wear". (Ok ok, I got two firm appropriate shirts and 2 fun ones. What's a gal to do??).

I was walking home, about a block from my house listening to some Dar Williams and feeling pretty good about the day. When all the sudden a man came careening out of his house, grabbed me and said "Please help me! I don't know what to do!". DLS likes to think she's level headed and a good person, so she calmly said "ok, calm down, what's going on"? The man explained that his partner had collapsed in their house, he was very hard of hearing and could not call 911 and needed help. Clearly, I pulled out the cell phone and called the dispatcher. I had to relay all of the intimate details of his partner's condition. He has leukemia. Had been given four months to live. Code blued on vacation in Miami just two weeks before. The dispatcher had me find out his history, his family history, personal history. I gave her my cell phone number because the man could not remember his own. I stayed with him until the ambulance came--I am certified in CPR and his partner was barely breathing.

I watched the scene unfold and could not help but be reminded of my own mortality. As I wandered home 15 minutes later, anonymous once again, this but a momentary flash for me and the rest of this man's life, I started to wonder how I would spend 4 months if I knew they were my last. With family, no doubt, and friends of course. Would I fly to Morocco tomorrow and climb the Atlas mountains? Or would I go back to Vermont and sit on our deck with my parents and Phoebe the dog and watch the sun set over our field each night? Maybe go back to China and wander through the hutongs in Beijing, or maybe go to 6 flags and ride every scary and death defying ride they have. Most likely I would go back to Mali and spend a month in my village with the people who changed my life the first time around.

I don't know what I would do. It's interesting to think about. What would YOU do? While you think about it, I'm going to continue sipping my 3pm gin and tonic to calm my nerves and enjoy the space I occupy in this world right here and now.

What's in a Year?

At the closing of any occasion of accomplishment, I am someone who finds it difficult not to pause and kind of take stock of where I am and from where I have come over the previous 365 days. It's a great way to do a mental and emotional check and to evaluate ways in which I can move forward in the most positive manner.

For those readers who are new to this blog, it actually started out as an account of my summer working in a refugee camp, with all of the first 15 or so posts detailing that experience. I started it a year ago, thanks to my friend H's suggestion after noticing, I am sure, the 100+ names on my group emails. And it struck me today, as I woke up without setting my alarm, surveyed the mine field which is my room, and laid in bed thinking about things to do today on this glorious and empty morning, how different this time last year was for me.

I left for Kenya on May 27, 2006. For the week leading up to it, this week, I was working on my journal writing competition, called "write-on". Let me explain a little but about this for those not familiar. Journals are big in law school--they are great for resumes, and they are basically student edited, selected and reviewed scholarly journals. Most put out about 4 issues a year, and each journal is topical (for example, mine is the International Law journal). The write on competition is held for 11 days after exams your first year and it's your only path onto a journal. Students buy a packet (making money off us any way they can!), with about 300 pages of topical research already compiled and a 50 question "bluebooking" test, and we have 11 days to write a 10 page note addressing the controversial area law at hand using only the sources and articles contained in the packet. See, the reason why write-on is stressful is because once you finish, you wait until the end of July to see if you were selected to be on a journal that you ranked. Immediately following finding out is when the interviews for 2L summer associate positions begin. Who wants to be the person who has to explain to their interviewers why there is no journal listing on their resume when the 10 people prior to that interview all successfully wrote on? It's awful.

So that's what I was doing. And packing my room. And saying goodbye to friends. And shopping. And having panic attacks daily. And figuring out how to pack for 6 weeks in a refugee camp followed by 4 studying law in London. And trying not to go insane.

So the summer came and went (I won't rehash it here--it's all in previous posts) and as I sat with S on the plane to Boston from London, after spending about every waking minute together since May 27, she looked over at me and said "So where do you think you'll be one year from now? Did you ever think this is where you'd be a year ago?" We both paused and thought about that. She continued and said "That's what I love about life: the best laid plans always change, and in a short period of time things can change and all of the sudden you're on a UN plane from Nairobi wondering oh my god, how did I get here!".

And I think that's one of the truer statements I have heard. I think there are times we fight change, because it's easier to keep putting one foot in front of the other than to allow yourself to veer off course, make a change, close your eyes, hold your breath and jump. I look back at where I was a year ago and am forced into pause to see how much I have grown through the experiences, some remarkable and some remarkably hard, that I have confronted, created, or dealt with over the last 365 days.

So where do you see yourself in a year, I wonder. I am trying to envision myself in 7 days since I will be 4 days into my life as a lawyer and that's hard enough. Having a moment and taking stock is good, though, for me, since it reminds me that an occasional jaunt off the beaten path keeps things interesting and has the ability to change your life.