Esabee

“After learning my flight was detained 4 hours, I heard the announcement: if anyone in the vicinity of gate 4-A understands any Arabic, please come to the gate immediately. Well—one pauses these days. Gate 4-A was my own gate. I went there. An older woman in full traditional Palestinian dress, just like my grandma wore, was crumpled to the floor, wailing loudly. Help, said the flight service person. Talk to her. What is her problem? We told her the flight was going to be four hours late and she did this. I put my arm around her and spoke to her haltingly. Shu dow-a, shu-biduck habibti, stani stani schway, min fadlick, sho bit se-wee? The minute she heard any words she knew—however poorly used—she stopped crying. She thought our flight had been canceled entirely. She needed to be in El Paso for some major medical treatment the following day. I said no, no, we’re fine, you’ll get there, just late. Who is picking you up? Let’s call him and tell him. We called her son and I spoke with him in English. I told him I would stay with his mother until we got on the plane and would ride next to her—Southwest. She talked to him. Then we called her other sons just for the fun of it. Then we called my dad and he and she spoke for a while in Arabic and found out, of course, they had ten shared friends. Then I thought just for the heck of it why not call some Palestinian poets I know and let them chat with her. This all took up about 2 hours. She was laughing a lot by then. Telling about her life. Answering questions. She had pulled a sack of homemade mamool cookies—little powdered sugar crumbly mounds stuffed with dates and nuts—out of her bag—and was offering them to all the women at the gate. To my amazement, not a single woman declined one. It was like a sacrament. The traveler from Argentina, the traveler from California, the lovely woman from Laredo—we were all covered with the same powdered sugar. And smiling. There are no better cookies. And then the airline broke out the free beverages from huge coolers—non-alcoholic—and the two little girls from our flight, one African American, one Mexican American—ran around serving us all apple juice and lemonade, and they were covered with powdered sugar, too. And I noticed my new best friend—by now we were holding hands—had a potted plant poking out of her bag, some medicinal thing with green furry leaves. Such an old country traveling tradition. Always carry a plant. Always stay rooted to somewhere. And I looked around that gate of late and weary ones and thought, this is the world I want to live in. The shared world. Not a single person in this gate—once the crying of confusion stopped—has seemed apprehensive about any other person. They took the cookies. I wanted to hug all those other women, too. This can still happen anywhere. Not everything is lost.”

I want to preface this by saying this is not victim blaming. This not calling people online lazy or grifting or whatever.

I believe a professor I had called this “cultural wisdom” but I haven’t been able to find the social science articles that expanded on this. It’s a practical knowledge of local systems that allows someone to function and thrive in that system. The example she used was having an understanding that banks can hold your money, but the practical aspect of accessing your money (in a convenient and easy manor) was knowing about ATMs and how to use them. But unless you have an account or someone ready to inform you, there’s no dedicated time or milestone where someone learns this.

mibridges is the Michigan site for food stamps/EBT, heating assistance, and a good few other things. Double check you’re on the right site because you have to use your social security number to sign up for pretty much anything.

So many of these agencies have a spot on their website asking you where you heard about them, which is behavior you would expect from a shop trying to sell you something, but it’s that they really want to know where the hell they can advertise to tell people that systems are in place. Same desire to get what they do in the hands of more relevant people.

Ask your pharmacist about aid for your meds. We will often know about ways to get things covered or ways to reduce the amount you already pay. (Disclaimer: I’m Canadian)

We (pharmacists) often also know which local providers are more likely to listen to you, work with you, and are more likely to have that local knowledge be able to successfully advocate for you.

you get used to it, but it's tiring, because they need you to understand your own life as a series of goalposts. what college are you going to, what's your major going to be, whatcha gonna do with that, oh where will you settle down, when can i expect grandkids.

If you want to be successful, you need to spend less time planning and more time taking action.