Host: Sarah Austin Jenness
[Uncanny Valley theme music by The Drift]
Sarah: [00:00:13] This is The Moth Radio Hour. I'm Sarah Austin Jenness.
You've heard the term clean break. It's a full and complete separation from a relationship, a situation, or even a bone. If the ending is clean and absolute, it's supposed to be a good thing. The idea is that it will heal better, you'll move on sooner. There's no residue. In my life, clean breaks have been rare, and I'll tell you more about that later. But we did manage to find five stories today, from Texas to the Kenyan countryside that explore this idea from different angles.
Our first story sets the stage for healthy endings done right. Theresa Wiggins told this at an open-mic Moth StorySLAM in Boston, where we partner with public radio station WBUR. Here's Theresa.
[applause]
Theresa: [00:01:11] I was in sixth grade and about 22 hours into a relationship with Joey Nichols, when I realized that our values would no longer align. [audience laughter] Joey was this tall, sort of goofy, loud kid who everybody loved, and he was so kind to everybody. I was shy and anxious, and I really wanted to fit in, and mostly wanted to be a good girl. But I knew Joey liked me, because he talked to me in gym class. [audience chuckles] He was like, "Hey, Theresa, what's up?" And I was like, "Nothing.” So, things were in motion. [audience laughter] He sent word to his friends, who sent word to my friends, who sent word to me that he wanted to go out with me.
My friends pressed me. They were like, "Do you like him or do you like-like him?" And I was like, "I think I might like-like him." So, we sent word back. And the next thing I knew, he's in front of me in the hallway, and my girlfriends are in this semicircle behind me, and he's like, "Theresa, will you go out with me?" And I was like, "Okay." [chuckles] It was exhilarating. I was somebody's girlfriend. And that exhilaration lasted for 1.7 seconds, [audience chuckles] because exactly after that, I felt an intense urge to dry heave, because I was somebody's girlfriend, and did I have to talk to him?
So, the duration of this relationship, I waffled between exhilaration and nausea, which brings me to the 22nd and final hour of this partnership. I was in sweet Miss Kaposchkin's art class. She is at the chalkboard, yes, chalk, and she was teaching a room full of sixth graders about perspective, line drawing. I'm one side of the room, and Joey's on the other side of the room, and my eyes are on the board. Suddenly, there's a loud noise from where Joey's sitting. Everyone turns and looks, and he is cracking up with his friend and it disrupts class. She gets it back under control, but it happens again, and it happens again, and that's when I know, I have this feeling in my gut that this is not a partnership that can stand the test of time. [audience laughter]
So, I rip out a piece of notebook paper and I write him a note, and I said, "Hey, Joey, what's up? I'm sorry, but we need to break up," and I fold it up and I send it across the room. He unfolds it, and he looks over at me with the saddest eyes, and he writes back. And when it reaches me, I read it and it says two words, and he says, "But why?” [audience chuckles] So, I write him back, super honest, and I said, "Because you fool around too much in class." [audience laughter] Fold it back up, send it. He reads it, he writes back, and he says, "I'm sorry, I can change… for you." [audience laughter] And this wave of knowledge runs through my body, and I know so clearly what I need to communicate to him, and I write, "Joey, NO" in all caps with seven exclamation points, and then I write, "Never change for anyone."
I underline that three times, and I said, "You just be you." I send it back across the room, and he reads it, and he looks up, and he gives me this gentle smile, and I smile back. And to this day, it is the cleanest, most mature breakup I have ever had. [audience laughter]
[cheers and applause]
Sarah: [00:04:41] That was Theresa Wiggins. Theresa is the co-founder of Redwood Speaking, where she helps people shape their own stories. But she says her most prized roles are as wife to her husband, Frank, and mother to her three teenagers. To see a photo of Theresa from the year in elementary school that she had this clean break, go to our Radio Extras page at themoth.org.
Our next story comes from Adelle Onyango. We met Adelle through our global storytelling workshops. She's hosted many Moth shows for us in Nairobi, Kenya. But this time, she came to New York to join us at our annual Mainstage with Green-Wood Cemetery, and share the story outside on stage as the sun was setting. Live at The Moth, here's Adelle Onyango.
[cheers and applause]
Adelle: [00:05:39] It's Christmas Eve in my home in Nairobi, Kenya, and something strange is happening. Mommy's in the kitchen cooking. I watch her open the oven, and garnish the chicken with rosemary, in shock, because all year round, this is the only time she gets into the kitchen. It's part of our Christmas tradition that involves overeating and overdecorated Christmas trees. I still remember Mommy, my sisters, and I sitting around the table full of food, cackling, opening gifts.
This tradition felt good. It felt like home. After Mommy died, my sisters and I desperately tried to keep the tradition going. We would buy gifts, overdecorate the Christmas tree, and have tons of food, including chicken, rosemary chicken. But no matter how hard we tried, it never felt right without her. I had to hold on to these traditions, because I couldn't face the pain of Mommy's death. So, I kept the traditions going and, seven years later, added another tradition, I got married.
I married a man from a completely different culture. I remember on our third date, laying down my deal breakers, "Listen, all Christmases are going to be spent with my family. And if you don't like it, leave now." [audience chuckles] I was very outspoken, I had loud feminist takes, and I was a media personality well known for speaking out and speaking my mind. Nothing traditional about me. We started our life and come Christmas, I'd have the gifts ready by October, decorations up by November. But there was one flaw in my plan. Our apartment. I hated it.
I'd drive home from work, and turn onto the pothole-riddled road, and I'd just regret living there. I'd park my car, climb up the staircase to our unit. It had these dark, dirty gray walls and I'd just get enraged. Whenever I'd walk into our apartment, it never felt like home. Our first Christmas was wonderful. Our second one, too. But by the third, it wasn't just our apartment that didn't feel like home, but also my marriage. It was becoming very clear that the wife my husband wanted was nothing like me.
I remember one night we were in bed after one of our many arguments, and he said, "You refuse to give me the three things that make a marriage. You don't want to give me a child, you wouldn't take my surname, and you've stopped wearing your ring." I remember feeling like, “Well, he's right. I'm definitely not that traditional woman.” But I was so exhausted, and all I could whisper was, "I can't do this anymore. I can't do us anymore.”
My marriage was over. And the divorce wasn't those amicable ones that you see in the movies. Mine was drenched in drama, with family calling and saying, "Well, if he didn't hit you, why are you leaving?" I remember another family member saying, "You will never find another man more devoted to you than your husband." It was the hardest time. I wasn't sleeping, I'd stopped eating much, so I lost so much weight and I looked so frail. And because of my work that involves small talk, smiles, performances, being in front of crowds, I was losing energy, and the little that I had needed to take me through my therapy sessions and meetings with lawyers.
I had never lived alone. I went from living with Mommy and my sisters, to just my sisters after Mommy died, to my partner after we got married. And so, this new chapter was exciting, but I was also quite anxious. So, I began looking for an apartment, and my only requirement was I needed a garden. My best friend took me for all my visits. But nobody prepares you for just how hard it is to find a home. I remember the first unit we saw had ceilings so low, I felt like a giant in a hobbit's house. [audience chuckles] There was another unit that had one natural light source for the entire house. And there was another unit that our agent took me to, and it had numerous bedrooms, about five. When I reminded the agent that, "Hey, it's only going to be me living here," he said, "Well, no worries. When you have kids, you have space."
I kept wondering, why does everybody want me to be this traditional woman, even this stranger? The last unit that we viewed in Nairobi was an apartment that had this strange staircase where each stair was a different size. [audience chuckles] As we hobbled back down the strange staircase to the car, I said, "Maybe I'm not meant to live in Nairobi." I immediately thought of a place I'd go to whenever I'd get so stressed in my marriage. It's a little town out of Nairobi called Limuru. It's known for its tea farms and its flower farms as well. So, all its hills are full of thick green carpets of tea, and these little greenhouses full of flowers. I'd always drive there, and get calm, and dream about living there. So in this moment, I thought, I want to live in Limuru.
So, one Thursday morning, I had two options, either see another apartment in the same neighborhood with the strange staircase, or take the nature-riddled drive out to Limuru. I chose the latter. And so, I got into my car. My fear was increasing as I kept looking down at my GPS and seeing just how far this place is. And then, I got to a point where I went up a hill and in front of me were these acres of green tea. And in my rearview mirror, I could see the skyline of Nairobi behind me. And in that moment, I danced between, "This is so beautiful" to "This is a terrible idea" [audience chuckles] to "I can't wait to take walks in the tea farms" to "This place is really far."
And then, I went up another hill to the house, and it was love at first sight. We walked into the front room. It had a front room through this charming half-wooden door that is terrible for security, but just so beautiful for aesthetics. And then, we walked into the living room that had these beautiful wooden floors, and this big fireplace, just like my childhood home. We walked into the kitchen. Now, as someone who doesn't cook, I immediately thought of changing my ways, because it was so spacious. And then, we went to my favorite part of the house, the main bedroom, my bedroom. It had the same wooden floors and old white windows positioned just right, so that the sunrise would meet you at the foot of your bed. And its bathroom was bigger than the bedroom I had in my apartment in Nairobi.
And the compound, the house is sandwiched between two tea farms. It's got yards of garden space, it's got a flower garden, it's got a kitchen garden, and at the back, this huge avocado tree. I loved the house immediately, but what really sold me was as I was walking through this house with complete strangers, because my best friend didn't come with me to Limuru on that day, no family members, no loving husband, as I thought my happily-ever-after would be like, I still felt at home. It's like all the fear and the loneliness had vanished, like we had left them at the wooden door.
And so, I began my move to Limuru. And the morning the movers arrived at the apartment, I was so happy. I couldn't believe that these were my last few minutes in this horrible house. I walked through each empty room, releasing any hopes I had for this home, releasing any hopes I had for my marriage, and then I took my very many plants as a plant mom, put them in my car, and drove right out, leading the huge moving truck to Limuru. When we got there, as the movers were unpacking my stuff in my new home, one of them asked, "Unahishi kwa hii nyumba peke yako kama mwanamke?" which means, "You're going to live in this house alone as a woman?" And I told him, "Yeah, why not?" putting on a brave face. But inside, I was terrified.
I was a divorced African woman in her 30s living in a new town, in a new house, all alone. My number one fear was collapsing in this house and not being discovered for three days. And so, I gave a set of my keys to my best friend, fussy safety. But as I settled down into my new house, one thing was scaring me. Christmas. I was panicking, because I knew I needed to find a new tradition. So, October came around, and I hadn't bought gifts. November came around, and no decorations were up. Then December came, and I felt like closing my eyes and just opening them up and finding myself on 31st.
And on Christmas week, I was driving back home. I parked my car and I got to my charming wooden door and something hit the top of my head. I looked up, and it was a Christmas wreath, and I thought, do I have a stalker? [audience laughter] And then, I opened the door and walked into the front room and there was an over-decorated Christmas tree and even more decorations in a bag, including three stockings. And I thought, what a thoughtful stalker. [audience laughter] It turns out it was my best friend who had orchestrated this surprise. I called him, and I was tearing up, and I was so happy. And for the next hour, I showed him how I was decorating my house. I was nailing the stockings to the fireplace using high heels, because I didn't have a hammer. [audience laughter]
It felt so good, like Christmas had come full circle. And on Christmas morning, I woke up to the sunrise at the foot of my bed, to the sounds of the birds chirping, and I went to the kitchen and I started to make chicken. Not rosemary chicken, but honey-glazed chicken, which is my favorite. And then, later that day, I was putting the food onto the table as I was waiting for my best friend to arrive. My favorite artist, Hugh Masekela, was playing in the background. I felt an overwhelming feeling of happiness, of joy, of peace, of calm. And then, it hit me, that's what I loved about Mommy's traditions. The feelings. It didn't matter that I was divorced, it didn't matter that I didn't have kids. What mattered was the feelings. That was the best Christmas I had since Mommy died. And I think it's because I finally felt at home. I finally had my own tradition. Thank you.
[cheers and applause]
Sarah: [00:18:02] That was Adelle Onyango. Adelle is still loving living in Limuru. She started farming, and she's planted rosemary bushes in her backyard to remember her mom. She's been recognized as one of the top 50 women in Africa by African Policy, BBC's 100 Women, and Top 100 Kenyans. Adelle's move was definitely a break from tradition. She says, "Divorce in Kenya is still not seen as normal. A woman living alone, especially in the rural context, is quite rare." You can see photos of Adelle in her backyard farm in Limuru, happy as can be, at themoth.org.
In just a moment, two stories of physical breaks. But don't worry, they're the funny kind, when The Moth Radio Hour continues.
Jay: [00:19:04] The Moth Radio Hour is produced by Atlantic Public Media in Woods Hole, Massachusetts.
Sarah: [00:19:18] This is The Moth Radio Hour. I'm Sarah Austin Jenness. And this episode features endings, the good kind. Our next story is from Erik Heen in Houston, Texas. He told it on stage at an open-mic StorySLAM, where we partner with Houston Public Media. Here's Erik, live at The Moth.
[cheers and applause]
Erik: [00:19:40] When I was a little kid, I had this elderly great-aunt. And we all called her Babushka. I hated going to Babushka's house, because she made me work in her garden and my only reward would be an Orange Crush. One day, my mom dropped me off there and Babushka dragged me to the garden. But I had recently learned of this special maneuver where you could stick your finger down your throat and, with the end result, you could often get out of your obligations. [audience laughter]
So, I crept down there between the corn stalks, and I performed this maneuver. I said, "Babushka, come here. Look at this." Babushka comes, and she looks, and it worked. She said, "Oh, my." She brings me into the house, tells me to lay down on the couch, she goes out to work in the garden, and I run to the fridge for an Orange Crush. Well, I couldn't find a bottle opener, but I recalled watching my uncle. He could take a solid object, and pry it over his finger, and pop open a beer bottle that way. So, I looked around and I saw on the shelf there, there's this row of little statues. I picked one up, and I looked, and I read at the base there, it said "St. Joseph of Cupertino.”
So, he looked pretty sturdy [audience laughter] at the time. [audience laughter] I sat down in a dining room chair, and I propped his feet up against the bottle, and I cranked down really hard. But the bottle cap came off easier than I thought. The statue slammed down on the armrest, it broke the guy's head off and it went rolling to the floor. So, I'm looking at this severed head. I'm pretty sure I'm going to hell over this, [audience laughter] because not only have I beheaded a saint, but I had done so while trying to access stolen merchandise. [audience laughter]
So, I picked him up. There were chunks broken off his head, part of his cheekbones, his beard. So, I went to look for some glue. [audience laughter] I found some in a little glass bottle. I thought it was glue. But I was using it, it didn't have good adhesive qualities. I think it might have been nail polish. So, when I got done, looked at the guy, looked like he had the crap beat out of him. He had these big chunks that were slipping and sliding on his head. He looked like a Picasso painting. [audience laughter]
So, I nestled him into the back row of statues. I went back to the garden, I never worked so hard in my life. [audience laughter] That afternoon, my mom picked me up. She brought me home. I said, "Mom," I said, "You know, just for an example, if someone were to, say, damage a religious artifact. Would the wrath of God fall upon the person who damaged the artifact or on the person who owned the artifact?" [audience laughter] My mom said, "How should I know? We're Lutherans.” [audience laughter] So, I went to my friend Vince's house.
Now, Vince was a Catholic. [audience laughter] I was allowed one Catholic friend-- [crosstalk] [audience laughter] I told Vince what I had done. He said, "Dude, St. Joseph is Jesus' Dad." [audience laughter] I said, "Wait a minute, Vince," I said, "God is Jesus' Dad." [audience laughter] He said, "No." Vince says, "No.” He said, “St. Joseph is the earthly dad, the guy at the manger." So, I go home, I'm freaking out now. [audience laughter] I just disfigured Jesus' Dad. [audience laughter] I couldn't sleep that night. Couldn't sleep for weeks.
I have this nightmare about this special place in hell reserved for kids who decapitate holy figurines. But then, the weeks went by and nothing really bad happened. And the weeks turned to months, and everything was okay. Then it was a year. There was no great apocalypse. Ultimately, Babushka lived a long and happy life, and I forgot all about this St. Joseph issue until years later, I was in college. I was doing this paper on the Catholic Church of medieval times. I'm doing some research. There in the book, there's a list of saints, and there's St. Joseph and there's St. Joseph of Cupertino. Two Josephs opened up a whole new can of worms. [audience laughter]
All those years, I thought I'd beheaded the regular St. Joseph, but it was the Cupertino guy. [audience laughter] So, I read about him. It said, “St. Joseph of Cupertino is the patron saint who ensures that his followers, at the end of their life, will experience a peaceful death.” [audience laughter] I called my mother, I said, "Mom, how did Babushka die?" [audience laughter] She said, "Peacefully in her sleep." Now, the way I see this thing, this could go either way. [audience laughter] But if I might be destined for an agonizing death, then shouldn't it be for something a bit more significant than an Orange Crush?
[cheers and applause]
Sarah: [00:26:21] That was Erik Heen. Erik is a retired federal investigator living in Houston, Texas. He now spends his time organic farming, beekeeping, and writing stories.
As for me, I've almost never had a clean break. I think this is why I love these stories. How do people do it? I've never broken a bone, knock wood. My parents divorced and then remarried each other. Come on. I grew up always thinking maybe the story isn't done yet. Maybe the story will have another chapter sometime in the future. Who knows?
I like the idea of a clean break. It seems evolved. So, in that spirit, here's our next story. Courtney Jae Renee took the stage looking fabulous in a black velvet jumpsuit with rhinestones for a Moth Mainstage called Only in New York. The special night was a collaboration with radio partners WNYC to celebrate their centennial. Here's Courtney Jae Renee, live at The Moth.
[cheers and applause]
Courtney: [00:27:40] So, as you can tell, I'm a city girl, and [laughter] and I embody everything that means. I'm beautiful, stylish, charming. And outside, I'm a party girl. I love a good time. I love a good vibe. I bring the good vibes. [audience laughter] So, one Friday afternoon, I'm home, surprisingly. [audience laughter] And my best friend, she phones me. She's with hype and excitement in her voice, and she's like, "There's this party at this new lounge in Queens, and this guy Malcolm that I was crushing on," she's like, "He's hosting the party. We should go.” So, let me give some backstory on my bestie.
So, she, two peas in a pod. She's the hype to my vibe. So, it's like, she's the perfect hype woman, yelling, "Ay, Ay!" encouraging all of my shenanigans. [audience laughter] So, she's like, "We should go. It'll be perfect for you to get face time with Malcolm." So, I'm like-- FaceTime wouldn't be bad. Finding eligible bachelors in New York City is a struggle. [audience laughter] So, I'm like, “Okay.” So, she's like, "We should go." I'm like, “Okay, let's go.” So, she's like, "Okay, hurry up and get ready. I'll be to you in an hour.” So, I'm like, “An hour?” Like I said, I'm a city girl. It takes time and effort to get this cute. [audience laughter] You just can't throw it together in an hour. But she put the "You going to go see your man" energy in me. So, I'm like, “Okay, I'll get it together in an hour.”
So, we hang up. I hop in the shower. I take the quickest shower ever. I get out the shower, and I'm like, “Oh, I forgot my towel. Great.” But lucky for me, I'm home alone. So I'm like, “Oh, I'll just do an A-1 down the hall to my room, finish getting ready.” So, I start darting down the hallway, and then, boom, I fall. I'm on my back, legs straight in the air. I look like a Thanksgiving turkey. [audience laughter] So, I'm like, “Okay, girl, get it together. You don't got time for this. We got to hurry up and get ready.” So, I try to get up, and I can't. So, I'm like, “Hmm.” Now, confusion is setting in. [audience laughter] I'm like, “What's going on?”
So, I try to get up again, and I can't. And I'm like, “Oh no. I've fallen, and I can't get up.” [laughter] So, I'm like, “What's going on?” So, I'm looking, I look down, and I see it. My right ankle is hanging to the left. [audience aww] I know. [audience laughter] Resembling nothing that looks like it belongs on a human. So, I'm like, “Oh my gosh, I got to call my bestie and tell her I need more time to get ready for the party.” [audience laughter] So, luckily for me, I'm the part of the generation, we don't go anywhere without our phone. So, I have my phone. [audience laughter]
So, I call my best friend, and I'm like, "I fell. And my ankle, I don't know, I think it's broken, but I need more time to get ready for the party.” So, she's like, "What?" I'm like, "I fell, I can't get up, and my ankle, I don't know, it's like it's broken. But I need more time to get ready for the party." And she's like, "Bro, your ankle is broken. You have to go to the hospital." And I'm like, “Oh,” and then it hits me. I'm in the middle of a medical emergency. [audience laughter] I'm like, “Oh my gosh, I got to call 911.” [audience chuckles] So, we get off the phone. I call 911.
I'm talking to the sweetest operator. She's keeping me calm, asking me all the basic information, reassuring me everything's going to be okay. She lets me know she's dispatched first responders. I'm like, “Okay, great.” Then she asks me a pivotal question. She's like, "Are you able to open the door for first responders? If not, they're going to have to break it down.” So, I'm like, “Hmm.” [audience laughter] I'm like, "Okay." I'm like, "Yeah, yeah, I'll open the door. Don't worry, I'll open the door." She's like, "Okay.” So, we get off the phone.
Now, I'm in the hallway, wet, naked [audience laughter] at a crossroads. [audience laughter] So, at this point in my life, I'm a broke college student. I don't have re-hind-the-door money. [audience laughter] So, I'm like, “I could either scooch this way up the hallway to my room and get clothes, or I could scooch this way to the door and open it naked.” [audience laughter] So, I got to choose between my dignity and my finances. [audience laughter] And like a capitalist American, [audience laughter] I chose my finances. [audience laughter] So, I scooch to the door and I wait.
I hear two knocks on the door, and I open the door. And in first-responders’ fashion, it's the firemen. [audience laughter] These are the beautiful six [audience laughter] firemen you've ever seen in your life. They look like they work out 25/8, okay? [audience laughter] So, they come in, they surround me, one hand on the boobs, head down. Before they can say a word, I'm like, "Please go to the room and get anything for me to put on.” [audience laughter] So, one of them goes to the room, he gets something, he comes back, he's like, “This?” This man has found the raggediest dress [audience laughter] that I own. You know the dress you fry chicken in? [audience laughter] Yes, that one.
So, he's like, “This?” So, I'm like, “Beggars can't be choosers.” I'm like, “Okay.” So, I put the dress on. So, now, they're asking me basic information, how did I fall, getting all my information, letting me know everything's going to be okay, they're going to get me out of here. So, they lift me up, they put me in the wheelchair, and they're like, "Okay." They lift up my leg, and then heat just rushes down, and I'm in excruciating pain, I'm screaming. They're like, "It's okay. Calm down. We're going to get you comfortable.” So, then one of the firefighters, he's like, "Well, what hurt more, opening the door naked or your leg?" And I'm like, "The door, for sure. The door, for sure.” [audience laughter]
So, they get me in a comfortable position, and we're ready to go, and they're like, "Are you ready? Do you have everything?" I'm like, "Well, I have my phone, so good to go.” So, we're about to leave, and I'm like, "Wait, I'm sorry, I don't have my wig." And they're like, "Really?" [audience laughter] And I'm like, "Listen. Ankle twisted, raggedy dress, at least my hair could be on point.” [audience laughter] So, they get the wig. [audience laughter] The hair was on point. [audience laughter] But it's safe to say I didn't make it to the party that day, but I did go to the hospital, maintaining my city girl essence. Thank you.
[cheers and applause]
Sarah: [00:35:15] That was Courtney Jae Renee. And yes, her ankle was broken, a clean break, and she's all healed now. Courtney is a native of Queens, New York. She came to The Moth through a workshop with our Education Department at City College. Courtney told us, "I now work with young people and social justice and I live, love, laugh and learn."
Remember how I told you that I don't really have clean breaks? Well, I loved Courtney's story, because I dated a firefighter for a while. He used to pick me up in the air and do squats while holding me, like every time we met. I gave him a big Moth sweatshirt and he wore it everywhere. He'd always get stopped by listeners who wanted to talk about this show. He was younger than I and I was fully enamored. But at some point, after a lot of on-again, off-again, we drifted apart. You know, he had to fight fires and I had to encourage people to tell personal stories. Both essential jobs, if you ask me.
After I heard Courtney's story, I texted him. I thought maybe he was one of the firefighters she mentioned. But no, he joined the FDNY years after the story takes place. He said, “Most people who see first responders are so shaken, they just want a hug.” Here's the thing about dating firefighters. It is my firm belief that everyone should do it at some point in their lives. Everyone should. But when the sirens blare and the trucks go by in the big city, which is all the time, it's nearly impossible not to think of them. So much for clean breaks.
After this break, a woman is determined to be victorious over a contagious disease, when The Moth Radio Hour continues.
Jay: [00:37:21] The Moth Radio Hour is produced by Atlantic Public Media in Woods Hole, Massachusetts.
Sarah: [00:38:01] You're listening to The Moth Radio Hour. I'm Sarah Austin Jenness. Safia Ibrahim is our final storyteller in this hour. From time to time, we produce custom storytelling shows that dive deep into a theme to humanize an issue that may feel foreign to some. Safia Ibrahim told this story on stage at one of those private events during the UN General Assembly for a night that drew attention to polio. She told it in front of ambassadors and change-makers in hopes that personal stories may help us come together to eradicate this disease. With that, here's Safia, live at The Moth.
[cheers and applause]
Safia: [00:38:47] I remember when I was six years old, I would wake up every morning and crawl out of bed and go to the bathroom to comb my hair and brush my teeth. I would then crawl to the front steps of my grandmother's house, and watch my peers as they walked to school with a thermos in hand and a backpack on their backs. I wanted to go to school, too, but I contracted polio at the age of one, and I was left out of school.
One day, I saw two girls playing a childhood game of hopscotch. I wanted to play, so I crawled up to them and said, "May I please join you?" One of them looked at me with a laugh and said, "How are you going to hop when you cannot even stand?" Not even knowing what I was doing, I immediately grabbed that girl by the leg and dragged her down to my level. [audience laughter] Next thing I knew, I was pulling punches while another girl was pulling my hair. [audience chuckles]
Luckily, my aunt was visiting, and she saw what was happening, and plucked me out of the dust and threw me over her shoulder. She took me back to my grandmother's house. My grandmother, when she opened the door, she said, "What does she do now?" Because back then, I was known as a rebel. [audience chuckles] That was the day my grandmother decided that I was going to have to learn to walk if I was going to continue fighting with other children. [audience laughter]
Using the wall and furniture, and with my grandmother's reassurance and confidence in me, I, myself, gained confidence in my new ability. But walking also came with falling, with new challenges, and that included falling. Every time I stood up, I fell down, but then I got back up again. Then I stood up, then I fell back down again. Eventually, my legs were strong enough for me to walk to the corner store to fetch oil and rice for my grandmother, just like the other children in my neighborhood did for their parents.
Two years later, the civil war in Somalia broke out and my family and I immigrated to Canada. For the first time, I was able to see a doctor about my diagnosis. He gave me two braces that reached up to my thighs and crutches for support. Most importantly, this is the time when I started going to school as well. This is the time I first felt ordinary, because that's all I wanted to be growing up. I graduated from elementary school, graduated from high school, and I even went to college.
I was starting to feel ordinary once more. At that point, I decided the next thing to do would be to get married. I fell in love, and got married, and I got pregnant. I went to go see my doctor and she told me to be careful, because I was high risk. A couple months later, as I was coming home from work, driving my car, I went down to the garage. I parked my car and I walked to the elevator. As I was walking, the crutches I was given for support slid and I fell front-forward onto the cold cement floor. I was 27 weeks and 5 days pregnant. I felt sharp, strong pain travel down my stomach to my pelvis and to my back. But what was more concerning to me was I didn't know how I was going to get back up.
Using my crutches once more, I was able to stand up, went into the elevator, got to my apartment, took a shower and went to bed. The next morning, I woke up with cramps. Very strong, dull cramps. I immediately called my doctor, and she told me to go to the emergency room. I went to the emergency room, but then I was sent to the labor and delivery ward. They did an X-ray and I sat in a room waiting for the doctor to come. I waited, and waited and waited. Eventually, he showed up with his head down, looking at the ground. He said, "Safia, unfortunately, we’re not able to detect a viable heartbeat. You will need to be induced today."
I was in disbelief. I mean, just last week, my friends threw me a baby shower, and they gave me bottles, baby blankets, and a nursing pillow. I was looking forward to raising my son, playing with my son, even vaccinating my son, so he could have an ordinary life, just as I imagined it to be. The next day, I went home. I cried. I was angry, how could polio come back and take something that was precious to me just like that? Because my whole life I have been fighting polio and I have been beating polio. But this time, it felt like polio got me. But then, I realized I'm not the type of person that focuses on what-ifs. I'm the type of person that focuses on what could be. I decided that I could get pregnant again and I will have another child.
Within months, I was pregnant, this time with a baby girl. I took every precaution possible. I went on early maternity leave. I stayed home in the winter months and waited for my daughter to come into the world. In the summer of 2008, my daughter introduced herself to the world with the loudest cry I have ever heard in my life. [audience laughter] A couple years after that, two years after that, I had another daughter, then a son. Now, I'm a mother of three. [audience applause]
Just recently, I was at the store with my son at the cash register and I fell. Actually, [chuckles] I fell down and I said really loudly, "Wait, it's okay, I'm fine. I always fall,”. But then, I get back up. [audience chuckles] My son looked back and I said, "Hey, don't you think I'm getting the hang of this? I'm okay. I don't think I fall as much as I used to anymore." My son looked at me with a mischievous smile and he said, "Mom, you just fell in January, February, March, [audience laughter] April." But then, I realized polio doesn't really affect our family, because we're just used to me falling. And I was like, “Okay, so this is our ordinary.” And then, I realized, at that point, that I defeated polio and I wasn't just ordinary like I hoped to be, but I was extraordinary. Thank you.
[cheers and applause]
Sarah: [00:47:56] That was Safia Ibrahim. In addition to her advocacy work to eradicate polio, Safia promotes health, education, and support for people living with disabilities. She's a graduate of The Moth Global Community Program, and she lives in Ottawa, Canada, with her young family. To see photos of Safia and her three beautiful children taken on Eid of last year, go to themoth.org.
Moth stories come from everyone. Carpenters, scientists, teachers, inventors, voodoo priestesses, really, everyone. Consider telling your story at The Moth. We want to hear from you. Find an open-mic Moth SLAM through our website, themoth.org, and please share this episode with a friend you think would love The Moth and these stories. You can find us on social media, too. We're on Facebook, at The Moth, and on Instagram, @mothstories.
That's it for this episode of The Moth Radio Hour. We hope you'll join us next time.
[Uncanny Valley theme music by The Drift]
Jay: [00:49:16] This episode of The Moth Radio Hour was produced by me, Jay Allison, and Sarah Austin Jenness, who also hosted and directed the stories in the show, with additional coaching from Julian Goldhagen and Chazz Bruce in The Moth's Education Department. Coproducer is Viki Merrick, associate producer Emily Couch.
The rest of The Moth’s leadership team includes Sarah Haberman, Christina Norman, Jenifer Hixson, Kate Tellers, Marina Klutse, Suzanne Rust, Sarah Jane Johnson, and Patricia Ureña. Moth stories are true, as remembered and affirmed by the storytellers.
Our theme music is by The Drift. Other music in this hour from Deluxe, Vincent Peirani, Émile Parisien, Hugh Masekela, Vulfpeck, Ramsey Lewis Trio, and Me and My Friends. The Moth would like to thank the Gates Foundation for their support of The Moth's Global Community Program. We receive funding from the National Endowment for the Arts.
The Moth Radio Hour is produced by Atlantic Public Media in Woods Hole, Massachusetts. Special thanks to our friends at Audacy, including executive producer Leah Reis-Dennis. For more about our podcast, for information on pitching us your own story, and to learn all about The Moth, go to our website, themoth.org.
Marc: [00:50:49] Ever listened to The Moth and thought, I have a story to tell? We'd love to hear it. The Moth pitch line is your chance to share a two-minute pitch of your true personal story. Record it right on our site at themoth.org, or call 877-799-MOTH. That's 877-799-6684.
Here's the thing: we listen to every single pitch. Your story could end up on our podcast, our stage, or inspiring someone who needs to hear it. Share your story at themoth.org, or call 877-799-MOTH. Everyone has a story worth telling. Tell us yours.