If you want to keep Christ in Christmas, an author wrote, “feed the hungry, clothe the naked, forgive the guilty, welcome the unwanted, care for the ill, love your enemies, and do unto others as you would have done unto you.” I am not a Christian, but have been searching my whole life to know how to make Christmas meaningful for me, and I’m getting closer.
As an admirer of the real Jesus Christ, I believe his message is appropriate for people of good will and open heart of any faith.
Supporting Mawulidi Majailwa the carver is one good way, supporting the Mansion residents and other vulernable people on the edges of life is another.
I don’t really know of a much better Christmas story than the story of the Christmas Chicken, I’m drawn to tell it every day as the shopping frenzy cools down for a day. This story does not tire.
Mawulidi Diodone Majaliwa lived in the Congo nearly 25 years ago, before he fled the massacres there with his bother. The rest of his family perished there, and his brother died in the refugee camps, where Mawulidi a carver, spent 22 years of his life before the United States chose him to come to America, his dream.
He is a quiet, simple man of few words and great humility. He never imagined he would carve again when he came to America.
He had to leave the carving tools his grandfather left him behind when he boarded the plane, he came to America last year with his wife and four children, two of whom are very young and still live at home, a tiny apartment near downtown Albany. He spends hours on a public bus traveling to and from his job, he works as a baker in a bread bakery, and there the story ended until I met him at RISSE, the refugee and immigrant center in Albany.
I saw when I met him that he had no winter clothes, he spent his money on winter clothes for his children. He is grateful to be here, but his life is hard and spare.
His is the classic American refugee story, getting to America for a free and better life for his family.
When I heard the story of his tools, I swore to myself that Mawulidi, who came to America to find a better future for his children, would get his tools back, and thanks to the Army Of Good, he got them back and began carving again.
His eye for detail and color is striking.
Mawulidi
Maria and I agreed to sell his works on our blogs until he can learn how to sell them on his own. For a man with no car, no computer,and few English words, that is not easy right now.
We sold his first works in minutes, and gave him a check for $400. He is carving again, and made this orange chicken and four blue birds. They were all sold in seconds, there is a waiting list of more than 50 people that Maria is keeping, she has agreed to handle the sales of Mawulidi’s work until he can be independent, perhaps on a site like Etsy. We will stand with him all the way.
As his works become available, we will notify the people on the list, show them the new work and the price, and they can say yes or no.
I posted a photo of Mawulidi’s Christmas Chicken – that’s my name for her – a few days ago, and it was sold instantly for $200. Maria and I both think it is worth more, but we want to start low so that his work will be available to people.
He agreed with this, we will raise his prices slowly over time. We both believe Mawulidi could make this his work one day, he is especially gifted.
The chicken has some magic to it, I think, I would love to have it, but his work is in so much demand I will get in line with everybody else. It seems wrong to me to snatch it up front. Next week, more carvings, an African Protection Mask and some other birds or creatures. I’m not sure.
Mawulidi is coming out here this coming Wednesday for more wood, all of his carvings come from wood cut at Bedlam Farm and Pompanuck Farm, just down the road.
If you wish to put your name on the waiting list for Mawulidi’s work, you can e-mail Maria at [email protected]. He is quite prolific.
I think Gus is going to have a good Christmas eve, he had a good day Saturday.
We have some new routines around food.
He is eating his gastroentric soft dog food, and the vet asks that we hold him upright for five to 10 minutes after each meal so his food can move down through the esophagus.
To my surprise, it may be working.
I have been hand feeding most of the food in the form of “meatballs,” his food is offered in small balls so he can digest them. The fun part to this is I am training him to “jump,” which is to stand up on his hind legs and eat the food while in that position.
Again, the idea is for the food to move through the esophagus and not lodge there. Gus, a born circus dog, loves to walk that way, just as he loves to ride on a donkey.
This is new for me, and also for Maria, but Gus likes being held by her after dinner while she rubs his belly. Not bad. He had a good day Friday, and Saturday was almost as good. He has been diagnosed with Megaesophagus, as many of you know, and has been regurgitating most, if not all of his food during the week.
I was shocked by the diagnosis, but I admit I am enjoying trying to figure out how to deal with it, at least up to a point.
We are working hard and struggling a bit to get a grip on it, but we are off to a good start. Gus had one spit-up today, early in the day – regurgitation is an awful word, I think – and none on Friday. That’s about a 500 per cent reduction over the rest of the week.
We give him antacid medicine 30 minutes before a meal, and raised his bowl a foot off of the floor so he eats the food with his head up, not down. I shape the dog food by hand into small balls which I drop into his mouth one at a time, and then put a small amount down in the bowl.
We meet with the vet when her practice re-opens during the week for a progress report.
I am very glad we got into see Dr. Fariello before the Christmas break, it would have been a nightmare to deal with all of this all weekend, we had no idea what was happening, and I am not a fan of most emergency veterinary clinics.
I want him to be seen by a vet who knows him.
Everything else is working fine today, his bodily functions, energy, playfulness. Other than the food issues, he does not seem like a sick dog.
Gus was a handful even when tossing up his food and going hungry, and he is a handful when he isn’t.
So heading into Christmas eve, Maria and I are both optimistic. I see some light here.
If we can keep this going, get into a rhythm, and the condition doesn’t worsen, this reality is both effective and quite manageable. I’d be happy with it.
Today and yesterday, it was under control, that’s the place I want to get to. I don’t mind that he has a chronic condition, I just want to know we handle it in a rational way that works for him and for us. I don’t want our lives to be seriously disrupted, I don’t want him to suffer.
If the condition doesn’t get worse (it might), we can deal with it.
I was shocked yesterday to learn that Gus has a swollen esophagus – megaesophagus – that prevents his food from entering his digestive system.
Until then, I had never heard of this disease, and have spent a good chunk of time reading up on it. it’s sobering, and at times, encouraging.
This is a serious and troubling condition, one that can lead to chronic regurgitation, pneumonia, even a gradual starvation. It is a confusing disease of unknown origins – it is not genetic or related to breeding, Gus’s siblings, Mother and Father do not have it.
It can be complex, time-intensive and expensive to treat.
There are support groups on Yahoo and Facebook for this disease.
I see that many people devote a significant portion of their lives to acquiring or building special structures in which the dogs can eat, making their own special diet “meatballs” and other foods to feed to the dogs
Treatments also can mean feeding them small amounts many different times a day, holding them in a certain upright position after eating, and of course, learning to live with frequent gagging and regurgitation of food.
Nobody knows what causes megaesophagus, nobody has any certain remedies for it, many people say their dogs can live for years with this condition, which is meant to be comforting, but is not.
Some people speak of dogs with megaesophagus in exactly the same way humans speak of dealing with chronically ill children and family members – absolute devotion and commitment, at all costs, by any means.
This can seem heroic to me, and also at times, disturbing.
Dogs in trouble can be a bottomless pit, emotionally and financially. They can’t tell us to stop, and many people don’t want to stop. Perspective and limits are sometimes as essential as love and dedication.
It’s soon for this kind of moralizing with Gus, but I believe these limits and boundaries ought to be considered at the beginning, not the end of the process. Maria and i and our vet will have an open and honest conversation about it.
This does not mean we are considering letting go of Gus in any form, it means I need to understand what my own limits and values are before it’s too late.
I know myself, when I commit to something, there is no turning back, so I wish to think it through now.
The megaesophagus dogs can require a tremendous amount of caretaking, and in the animal world, extreme care and money are often equated with love and compassion. There is much praise for people who spend many thousands of dollars on sick animals and keep them alive for years, it is considered compassionate by many, and I wish them well.
But I am not one of those people, love and compassion sometimes mean letting go and sometimes mean ending suffering.
I have a clear sense of limits and moral propriety in my own head. Maria and I will work long and hard to keep Gus healthy and happy, we are just getting underway.
I don’t know what the outer limits are, I do know that I have them. I have deep ethical concerns about how far to go with sick animals when tens of millions of human children suffer and starve all over the world.
But I have spent hours now reading about this disease, and considering how we will respond to it, and I am guardedly optimistic. We are committed to taking the best and most humane possible care of Gus. I like the idea that this is treatable and manageable, many people say so.
We will figure it out and work hard to learn about it.
It was difficult watching Gus spit out piles of bile and undigested food this week. We have to get on top of that.
Many people say megaesophagus is treatable, not a big deal for them. Others have harrowing stories to tell. The stories and accounts vary wildly, every dog and every person seems to experience this disease differently.
Many people purchase or build what are called Bailey Chairs, similar to the chairs used for feeding babies. At this point, I don’t care to have one of those. We’ll consider it later if we think we need it. Right now, we are not comfortable with the idea.
I don’t think I can handle the intensity of most of the online support groups, either. I don’t see a lot of perspective there. The idea seems generally to be keep your dog alive by any means and at all cost for as long as possible.
I have my own ethic: do the best I can for as long as I can.
I am concerned for Gus, he is a happy, much loved dog and I want to be certain that he is not suffering just so that I can feel good. He was not a happy or comfortable dog this week.
Our vet understands that, Maria feels the same way. We are all on the same page.
The diagnosis, made yesterday by Dr. Suzanne Fariello, has already transformed our lives with Gus. The X-ray was a shocker.
No more therapy work until this can be sorted out. We have given away his puppy kibble, he is on a special canned gastroentric diet from Purina. We have raised his food bowl a foot off the ground so he can raise his head when he eats.
We give Gus special antacid medication a half hour before he eats and hold him upright for five to ten minutes after he eats. Meals now take at least an hour all told.
Some good news yesterday, he did not gag or spit up his food once day or night under the new eating regimen.
Today, one spit-up shortly after breakfast, but none since. Pretty good for the first day. I’m giving him some Pepcid as well and hand feeling his canned food to him one large spoonful at a time, so he has some time to swallow.
I make him raise his head and stand up for the food, this is supposed to help the food move down through the esophagus.
Gus has eliminated twice today, which suggests at least some of the food is making its way into his stomach and beyond, Those are good signs.
In my years with dogs, I have learned who I am and who I am not. I am not going to be on Yahoo or Facebook hours every night studying recipes, special chairs, different ways to hold the dog while eating.
I don’t know what the limits are for me, or for Maria – it’s too soon by far to do that.
I am prepared to invest a lot of time in dealing with Gus and his illness, and to focusing my energy on finding what works. I want to keep him with us for years. But I don’t want his illness to be my life, or a dominant part of it. It’s just too soon to know much.
As many of you know, and many of you regret, I believe it is not always merciful to keep dogs alive beyond their natural abilities.
The Internet and new veterinary technologies have put many dogs in the same position too many humans are in – they live too long, at too much discomfort, and too great a cost. I am committed to sparing my dogs this fate, although Gus is quite far from that position. Gus cannot speak and tell us what they walk, so I believe there is a special responsibility to be their advocates, and make sure my decisions are best for them, not just me.
I don’t know how that will sort itself out, but I will share the process with you. Now, we are on a five-day trial – some medicine, new food, new positions for his bowl, no more hard treats, only soft treats.
We’ll meet next week with Dr. Fariello and compare notes on the week, and see where to go from here. You will know everything that she will learn by them.
In the meantime, we will be doing the best we can for as long as we can. I pray that is a very long time.
In every small community, there are people who help the town run, who are there when they are needed, who do the jobs everyone else is too busy to do, or no one wants to bother to do.
Maria and I belong to a local food Co-Op, it is member owned and was created to offer healthy food to people inexpensively. It’s survival depends on its members helping out. Maria is a member, she works for one afternoon a month there.
Steve is one of the linch pins of the Co-Op, he is always there when needed, and when other people can’t show up to do their work or forget.
It is hard to imagine the Co-Op without him, he is at the cash register, unpacking food shipments, cleaning. He also has a delicious dry wit and sense of humor. He was startled – dubious – when I asked to do his portrait – he was having a cup of coffee – getting ready to take over the cash register.
Those always turn out to be the best portraits, another of the people in my life.
And he seemed like natural for the holiday images portraits I am doing this Christmas. People come and go, but Steve matters in a very particular way.
