If you know anything about me, you know that my trip to India two years ago greatly affected my life. When I was there I lived in a slum, and my heart was broken in a way that can never be fully repaired.
Before I left India I purchased twelve orange bangles. I put them on my wrist, and they have remained there ever since (with the exception of a few unfortunate instances when I had to take them off at various airport security checkpoints – I guess the bangles are made out of metal. Whoops.) I never had any plans with the bracelets; I didn’t know if I was going to leave them on forever or what. One of them broke before the race, but I had no intention of taking the other ones off.
During my second month on the World Race, when I was in Romania, I had an idea about the bracelets. It was a Sunday afternoon, and we were gathered around a woman in a wheelchair. She couldn’t physically make it to church, so we brought church to her. I was sitting on the ground, and a small girl came over and sat on my lap. She was dirty and ragged, but was adorable nonetheless. She began playing with my bracelets, as most kids usually do. She tried to take one off, but I wouldn’t let her. And then I felt bad. Here was a poor child who wanted something seemingly insignificant from me – who was I to withhold it from her? I wiggled the bracelet off my wrist and gave it to her. Her face lit up with infectious joy.
And then I decided it was time to let go of the bracelets. It wasn’t just the bracelets I would be letting go of, however, for a piece of my broken heart was attached to each bracelet. I made up my mind to leave a bracelet with someone meaningful in each country on the World Race from then on – which would leave one for myself.
It was a good idea, but it didn’t always work out the way I wanted it to. The following month we went to Bulgaria, where I fell in love with a German teenage girl named Amelie. I was excited to give my bracelet to her. We were supposed to hang out one last time before I left the country, but I got sick and had to cancel our plans. I never saw her again.
A week later our teams changed. I was sitting on a bed with Marissa as we cried and hugged each other and tried to imagine the rest of the race without one another. She wiped the tears from her eyes and pointed at my bracelets. “You know how you never gave one to Amelie? Well maybe I can be her replacement.” Immediately I slipped the bracelet off my wrist and handed it to her.
In Israel I gave my bracelet to daughter of the missionaries we were serving with. Her name was Talita, and she liked to hang out with us older girls. One time she gave us Pringles (it was a pretty big deal.)
In Turkey I was going to give my bracelet to Pilar, a spunky college-aged girl I had befriended, but I forgot. Two of my bracelets broke at the end of this month – so I canceled it out in my mind.
In Uganda I gave my bracelet to Grace – a poor single mother of two young daughters.
In Kenya I gave my bracelet to Milicent, the daughter of the Bishop at our church. Milicent was a few years younger than me, incredibly beautiful and strong, and filled with humility. She served us our meals and washed our clothes.
Also in Kenya I gave my bracelet to Gracie. It was our last night in at our ministry site, and I had pointed out that I liked her bracelet. Later that night she came up to me and said she wanted to give me her bracelet. I tried to deny it, but she insisted. So I gave her one of mine.
Giving away two in Kenya worked out well, because I forgot to give one away in Tanzania.
In the Philippines I would often go and visit a group of woman in a nearby jail. I grew particularly close to Rosario – she received my bracelet that month.
Cambodia was another bust.
This month I had two bracelets left. I knew toward the beginning that my final giveaway bracelet would be going to One – a ladyboy I had been visiting with most weeknights. A ladyboy is a male-to-female transgender person. I met One the first night we went out to the bars – she was bubbly and fun. We talked about her boyfriend Paul, who is an older Australian man. Other nights we would dance to the music, play connect-four and do our best to have a conversation through her broken English. A few times she let me pray for her (though I’m not sure she knew exactly what I was doing.)
Whenever my teammates and I walked up to the bar she would always squeal, run over and shower us with hugs. Each night we hung out I fell more and more in love with One. We’d pull up stools around a bar table and she would ask, “Same same?” referring to the orange juice with pineapple we ordered every night. True to her style, she’d carry the drink over to us with three colorful straws (our budget is so tight we had to share one drink, lol.)
Finally the night came for me to give One my bracelet. She sat down on a stool next to me and I told her I had something to give her. I shimmyed the bracelet off my wrist and put it on hers. Without skipping a beat she took one of her bracelets off her wrist and put it on mine. I was touched to my core.
I was left with one bracelet for myself. The last few nights at the bars, however, I met and fell in love with another girl. Her name was Om – she was 19, she had a daughter and she went home with the customers at night. She pretty much couldn’t speak any English, but we would sit together and I would show her my pictures on my camera, or we would play endless rounds of Jackpot. On Friday night I was saying goodbye to her, and I wondered if I should give her my last bracelet. It may sound silly, but I debated this for a good while in my mind. Would I regret leaving none for myself? If I gave it up was I giving up India? I looked at Om – she is so young; so innocent. I cared for her like a sister. India taught me to believe in hope despite all other odds. I hoped that Om would live a different life one day, even though statistics say she won’t. Before I could think anymore I found myself taking off my bracelet and handing it to her.
And so, the tale of the orange bangles has come to an end. And I feel good.
