Gus has been going around the farm challenging every living thing (but the sheep) to play with him. Flo, our imperious, mostly affectionate, and also murderous barn cat was walking down the path and Gus intercepted her and tried to draw her into a wrestling match.
Flo stared at him contemptuously, and when he came close, she boxed him on the nose several times with her paws (claws in). Gus was shocked, shrieked and ran off to hide behind Maria. Two minutes later, he was licking Minnie and bumping heads with her. Gus is relentless.
He is the first creature to ever try to play with Flo, who does not play. I wonder if he will try it again. This one didn’t work out too well.
I’ve been writing about Devota Nyiraneza for several days now, in 1994 she fled the Rwandan genocide and walked 2, 485 miles across Central Africa with no food or shoes carrying her daughter on her back.
It took her nearly a year to get to a United Nations refugee camp, and then to America.
It took her nearly 13 years to get here.
Along the way, she faced starvation, rape, extreme heat and cold, she hid in forests in the daytime and stole food from farms along the way. Eight of her companions were killed by farmers with poison darts.
She is now an American citizen, she works two jobs, one working with the disabled for Catholic Charities, the second cleaning rooms and floors at the Albany Medical Center. Like so many of the refugees and immigrants at RISSE, the refugee and immigrant support center in Albany, she is overwhelmed trying to navigate the complexities of life in America.
When her son – her children were the result of rape – was accepted to Buffalo State University, she applied for what she thought was financial aid, and her request was accepted. But she had really applied for a loan, and didn’t understand the difference.
So her son had to leave school and is working to repay his own loan, and she has a $10,000 loan to repay. She sends the bank $125 a month. I offered to try to raise money to pay back the loan or reduce. In the 48 hours after I wrote the piece, I received nearly $3,000 in donations for Devota, and I hadn’t even requested funds or set up a fund.
I am seeking donations now, I hope to give her a check for the entire loan so she can resume her normal life – she just moved to a smaller apartment because the $1,400 monthly rent is now too much. Whatever we collect will help her, and I am optimistic about raising the entire amount from the blog.
Devota is a person of warmth and grace, soft-spoken, uncomplaining, generous of spirit. It seems miraculous to me that she has survived and she embodies the very best of the American ethos – taking responsibility, working hard, hoping to go to school herself once her son finishes his education. She has three other children to care for.
On her journey, her skin peeled off and her bones were exposed. Her worst memories are the children abandoned by their families because they couldn’t care for them, they died along the road. And the rapes by soldiers and militia members who threatened to kill her and her daughter if she didn’t submit.
It is very difficult for newly arrived refugees to navigate the very complicated world of American finance and documents and taxes. RISSE is working to expand their educational programs in order to help refugees like Devota. But she needs help now.
I think this is a person very much worth helping, and I am determined to try.
She is working hard and has a great heart, she deserves help climbing out of this burdensome situation.
If you wish to contribute, you can do so by sending a check addressed to me at my post office box: Jon Katz, P.O. Box 205, Cambridge, N.Y., 12816. Please mark the check “Devota Fund.” You can also donate via Paypal, send the donations to [email protected]. Please remember to mention “Devota Fund” in the message. All of these donations are kept in a separate account I use for helping the refugees and the Mansion residents.
There are many ways to look at the world, and I do not hate anyone who disagrees with me. The immigration system in America is a frightful mess, and certainly needs fixing, but Devota represents to me the best of the American experience: offering refuge to the vulnerable, and giving them a chance to save the lives of their families, and to pull themselves up in the land of freedom and opportunity.
Gus has already touched many people, he has challenged many of own stereotypes, and opened my eyes to many things.
Small dogs are working dogs, but their work is people and families, and they take it seriously and are good at it. Gus is already doing much good.
I appreciate the way he loved my granddaughter Robin this weekend, and keeps an eye on Maria. He has lifted the hearts of the Mansion residents and staff and has many friends and admirers all over my town, from the vendors at the Farmer’s Market to the dental techs to the staff at the Round House Cafe.
I am especially touched by his friendship with Bob, a worker at the town recycling center (the dump) and one of the most loved men in our community. Bob is what of those men – very rare in my experience – who radiate good will and love, he is a generous spirit. Still, he is a big tough man in a truck, a skilled hunter, as at home in a tractor as in a car.
I couldn’t list all of the people who know Bob and love him, he has done so many good things for people here.
My friendship with him is so far limited to the dump, where he is always waiting with a biscuit for Fate, and now, for Gus. Since my open heart surgery, which he read about on my blog three years ago, I have not been able to haul a trash can from the car to the big garbage bin. Bob is right there, brushing me aside. I have never asked him to help, and I insist I can carry the can myself, but when he is around, there is no chance of that.
Fate starts squealing with joy when we get a mile from the dump, and Bob is especially sensitive not to leave her out because Gus is there. Both of them dogds are crazy about Bob, and it is worth a lot to see Bob’s face when I take the puppy out of the car and hand it to him. If a big touch man could melt, Bob would be all over the ground.
He loves dogs and animals, and I smile at the way he always goes and gives Fate another biscuit after he cuddles with Gus. “You know I love you, honey,” he tells her and she is beside herself, wagging and flirting with him. She certainly isn’t left out.
I have always been more comfortable in the company of women than men, I just do not make a good regular kind of guy. I don’t like sports, I hate to talk politics, I’m bad at small talk and have never understood how the mechanics of the world are put together. Men usually have to educate me or help me.
I am completely at ease with Bob, I think it is fair to call him a friend. I give him copies of my book and other books, and he keeps me informed of things I ought to know about in town. He always tells me when pheasants are hiding in my meadow, or when a Bald Eagle is flying near the farm. He also warns me when bad weather is coming.
He is an Army of Good all of his own.
Seeing him with Gus lifts my heart, though, I see them as two men who know how to love and do good for people. A natural friendship. In our small rural town, we know one another, we find community even at the dump. It makes all of the difference.
We may not all love one another, but we know one another. Now everybody knows Gus.
It was cold this morning, the first chilly morning of his time here, but Gus is skilled (like a cat) at finding the sun. He went upstairs – is is climbing up the stairs now, and lay down on the laundry in the sunlight. Gus has a mind of his own, and goes where he wishes.
