brave little girls
Wednesday, August 29, 2012 at 04:50AM 
I bit all my fingernails off yesterday. Just when I thought I’d kicked my ugly habit, I got stressed and bit them all off again, right down to the skin. My nails are always a good gage of where my emotions are at.
I was having a normal day at school in my office working on a grant application when I got a phone call from someone waiting for me at home. It was an appointment with a guy I’ve been trying to connect with all week so I rushed back to the house to meet him. When I walked through the gate the first thing I saw was baby Monica in her mother Basanti’s arms running towards me. Monica's body was limp and I could tell by the look on Basanti's face that something was wrong. For whatever reason, all of our staff happened to be in the same place at the same moment gathered around the front of the house. I looked at Monica. Her lips were totally blue and moving ever so slightly as if she was gasping for air. In a span of 5 seconds every single thought went through my head. Is she choking? Did she fall? Is she going into anaphylactic shock? Is she dying? I couldn't get my head around it because I knew I had seen her at the school playing all morning with Namraj. I grabbed Monica to start the Heimlich Maneuver or CPR and started asking Basanti questions. She was understandably beside herself, screaming and crying and down on her knees but no, she hadn't had anything in her mouth and she hadn't fallen down. She was just taking a nap.
I could feel the adrenaline pumping through my body. I checked for a pulse and could see that Monica was still breathing. She felt hot, like she had a fever and that’s when everything clicked and I realized she must be having a seizure. I kept yelling for someone to call an ambulance when I realized that I wasn’t in the U.S., and that Scorpio was right there and I had the keys in the fanny pack I always carry around and I could drive. We jumped in the car and rushed to the ER. I stalled the jeep 3 times on the way in a panic while shifting gears. Darn stick shifts.
Monica’s body looked so small on the hospital bed. I remembered the last time we’d been at the hospital together was the day she was born. I called to the ER staff and they left what they were doing and came right to us. They assured me her vitals were stable, and doused her in cool water. They pulled the oxygen right out of the woman's nose in the bed next to us and put it in Monica's. I ran to the Operating Theatre to see if I could find a free doctor, just to be sure, and in a matter of minutes a great doctor came to our side and told me she'd be just fine. It was a febrile seizure and very common among kids her age. The physician looked at me like I should have known that and I told him that yes, I’d read about febrile seizures. I told him about the other kids being sick and how it took me a while to realize that Monica must have come down with the same fever that the rest of the kids had.
Within hours Monica was back to her normal self and we waited for the evening to come when the doctor could do rounds and discharge us. I sat outside the ER on the only bench watching the rain and running the day's events through my head. I was totally spent. How doctors and nurses do this stuff everyday, I have no idea.
Just then a police car pulled up with a bunch of male officers holding their guns. I noticed a little girl come out of the back seat. I watched her closely. The police officers sat the little girl down next to me on the bench and told her to wait, most likely I thought, for the same doctor. She looked to be about the same age as my older girls, Goma, Karma, Anjali, and Nisha. I asked her how old she was and she told me 13. I also realized she was from the same village Goma came from. I asked her if she knew Goma but she said no. Then she told me why she was with the police and why she was at the hospital. She was hiding most of her face with her shawl and when she let it fall, I couldn't help but notice how pretty she was. The kind of pretty that makes you stare, even if you try not to.
She told me her aunt had married her off to an older man to pay a debt. She did not want to be married. She did not know the man and she was tricked into going to his house. She stayed at the man’s house for 5 days until early that morning when she gathered her courage to run away to the police and make a case against her family and the man. I told the little girl how brave I thought she was. I asked if she was scared and wanted me to stay with her. She nodded yes and I quietly thanked God that I was exactly where I needed to be, at the hospital in that moment. The universe works in mysterious ways sometimes. We talked and talked. I told her about what I was doing in Surkhet and about my kids and my girls who were all her age. I had a sinking feeling in my stomach. Child marriage is real. It's still happening. How can we do more to stop this? How can we create a world where our little girls are safe? I couldn't stop thinking about how that little girl could have been me, or one of my sisters, or one of the girls I used to babysit for, or one of my own daughters or students, or friends, about how this just has got to stop. This has to stop now. I also thought about how things in the world could be changing because this little girl knew to go to the police and she knew to get help. She knew she had rights. I’m not sure that would have happened five years or ten years ago. I couldn't stop telling her how brave I thought she was.
I came home last night, had some bean soup and told all the kids about the brave little girl I met. Sometimes I keep things like this from them, but I decided I really wanted them to know about my day and the girl and what they could learn from her. I decided to write it here because I want you to know too.
Monica is all better today. I read about febrile seizures on the internet this morning. We’ll need to keep a watchful eye on her temperature. I am back in my office working on the grant application again. I am wishing I didn't bite off all my nails yesterday because now my fingers hurt when I type. I am on the phone with the chief of police checking in on the brave little girl I met yesterday and seeing if she wants to come to our school. I have a school full of brave little girls over here and I have a good feeling she’ll fit right in.
Reader Comments (17)
Maggie, this is brilliant. all those times we've sat on your bed and you've had doubt. All those times we've sat holding each other crying and saying it's all too hard. All those times we lifted our heads to the heavens and swore our heads off cos it all just gets too much in a place like Surkhet. Doesn't it all just get paid off in the myriads of these tiny moments, these little victories?? The frustration just dissipates when you get a win doesn't it? Even just for a little while. You have sacrificed so much to be there and yet gained everything! And in doing so the people you come to know and share your life with they gain everything too. I can't wait to meet the new faces (Shanti's face is looking pretty new and "pig taily" btw!) and yes you are so right! I am STILL in the throes of my thesis and currently writing about transition in Nepal and how far she's come and still coming. 5 years ago this girl wouldn't have known what to do. We moan about the banality of modernisation and globalisation and all the loss of "authenticity" and "culture" that comes with it. But nothing could be further from that! What could be more authentic than a 13 year old Nepali girl learning through development and education that it's a violation of her personhood and her childhood to be forced to marry someone thrice her age?? It is through these efforts, in sites like Kopila, and Aawaaj and a zillion other efforts, that young women everywhere are returning to their authentic selves. Well done. I'm so proud of you and so proud of her, though we're yet to meet.
xoxo
p.s and thank crikey Monica is ok!!
Mags - I was shaking through that whole story. Thank you for sharing... really puts things in perspective. I am so happy Monica is ok, and I hope the girl from the hosptial accepts your offer.
miss you - Elizabeth R.
It's funny, yesterday evening I just sent the final manuscript of a report on gender equality and development that I've been working on at the World Bank for the past two years. Thank you brave little girl, and you, Maggie, for reminding us how to be brave.
I imagine this girl's future. Perhaps she goes back to her village and not go to school, or get married to someone else, or perhaps she goes to school. And she learns, and becomes more and more confident. Healthier, stronger. Perhaps she goes on to higher education, or becomes a businesswoman, or a police officer, or a doctor. Maybe, when she's older, she'll go back to her village, and villages just like her village, and talks to other little girls who are vulnerable to the same fate. And they'll see her, beautiful-- on the inside and outside, strong, confident, womanly, powerful, and envision a similar future for themselves, too.
What's so cool about this vision is that I think you're going to help her make that happen. And that makes me internally grateful, and pushes me to do the same. Not just in Nepal, but in every interaction with every young person that I meet.
i know another big brave girl who sat there right next to the little one.
praying for you and your little and big ones and all the our other brave children out there.
xx
This piece should be in the new york times
The police officer that sat the girl near you have had big intuition...Maggie: your heart is really really big, that girl can find solidarity between yours. This can be a lot for all.
Thank you for writing and ...driving.
Maggie,
GO GIRL! Go all girls---big and small!!!
Hope you are mighty proud and I do also hope the beautiful, brave girl takes you up on your offer to join your girls at Kopila Valley.
You're awesome! Keep up the GREAT work.
What an amazing story! Thanks for sharing Mags!
I, too, was on the edge of my seat reading this--triaging in my mind what was going on with little Monica. So grateful that it was "only" a febrile seizure. Hopefully, it won't happen again but be mindful that it can--especially up to about age 3 if/when she develops fevers again so aggressively treating elevated temps is extra important for Monica.
Brave girls and brave women! Sara Mary is right--that policeman must have had some awesome intuition to put that brave little girl right next to the bravest woman in Nepal. Awesome! Thanks so much for sharing the story and please give us followup about the brave little girl if you can.
You are great !! Keep on..
Thank you for telling us about this day. One meeting can change a life. Thank you for reminding us all about that truth.
Wow. This is an inspiring entry, to say the least. Every time I read your blog I gain perspective on my own world and my own "problems." I stand in awe of your important work over there. I see so clearly that you are the exact right person to live there and run that school. I'm on the edge of my seat to see what the universe has next for you! Keep up the great work!
Thank you all for these beautiful heartfelt comments. They mean so much to me :)
". . . I was exactly where I needed to be "
You're her angel. May she be inspired by you to do great things and have a fulfilling life.
Wow...Maggie, I am inspired by your work every day :)