"Hatuwezi kutumia hizi. Zinafanana na urithi!" Gina, mgeni katika mkusanyiko wangu wa likizo, anashikilia moja ya leso zilizopambwa kwa ustadi kutoka kwa meza ya buffet. “Umezipata wapi?”
"Kutoka kwenye jalala. Nguo ya meza na vile vishika mishumaa vilikuwa mle ndani pia."
"Huwezi kuwa serious! Kwa nini wawe kwenye jalala?" mshtuko katika sauti yake kufanyika katika chumba, na wengine kuangalia juu.
Ni kawaida kwamba wanawake huuliza kitu kilitoka wapi, haswa ikiwa ni mavazi ya kuvutia au nyongeza mpya kwa nyumba. Lakini kutaja dampo kama chanzo cha kitu chochote, haswa kitu cha urembo, ni jambo lisilotarajiwa kabisa.
Maelezo yangu yaliunda mazingira ya fumbo. Hadithi hiyo haikuwezekana hivi kwamba baadaye marafiki zangu walitania kwamba labda nilikuwa nimeota.
Vitambaa vyekundu, vitambaa vya meza, na vinara vyote vilikuwa vya Bibi Cybulski (si jina lake halisi), mjane ambaye alikuwa ameishi mtaani kwa muda mrefu kama ningekuwa katika ujirani, yapata miaka ishirini.
Isipokuwa kumwagilia yadi yake, hakutoka sana. Na alipofanya hivyo, alikaa karibu na nyumba, kana kwamba kamba iliyomfunga kwenye uzima ilikuwa imejiondoa, ikimvuta kuelekea kwenye nyumba ya milele.
Siku moja, niliona dampo la ukubwa kamili mbele ya bungalow yake. Nilidhani ilikuwa ya uchafu wa yadi au takataka kutoka kwa mradi fulani wa ukarabati. Lakini hivi karibuni wageni walionekana. Katika matembezi yangu ya kila siku, niliweza kuwaona wakizungukazunguka eneo lile. Mvulana wapata kumi na wawili alikaa kwenye ukumbi, akitazama morose. Usemi wake uliibua wasiwasi mwingi ndani yangu kwamba labda Bi Cy amefariki.
Niliita kwa utulivu, "Je, amekwenda?"
"Ndio, amepita." Ilikuwa vigumu kujua kama alikasirishwa na kufiwa na jamaa yake au alikuwa na hasira kwa kulazimika kusaidia katika kazi fulani isiyopendeza.
Kupitia dirisha kubwa la kioo la sahani niliweza kuona mwanamke akisawazisha vyombo vya habari kati ya vidole vyake. Mwanaume wapatao arobaini alitoka kwenye mlango wa nyuma, mikono yake ikiwa imerundikana juu ya kile kilichoonekana kama matandiko. Nilisubiri karibu kuona kama kweli angeiweka kwenye jalala.
Kwa kusita kujiingiza bado nikiwa na hamu ya kutaka kujua, nilijitambulisha. "Hujambo, mimi ni Meredith, jirani chini ya barabara. Samahani kusikia kuhusu Bi. Cybulski. Alikuwa nyanya yako?"
"Mkuu shangazi. Tisini na moja. Alikuwa na maisha mazuri, "alisema, na kuendelea kuelekea dumpster, mazungumzo yetu inaonekana juu. Aliweka shuka na blanketi zilizokunjwa vizuri chini kwa uangalifu, kana kwamba ndicho chumba ambacho wangehifadhiwa. Niliona takataka zilizojaa kila aina, lakini kamwe kama hii, iliyojaa kama shina kwa ajili ya safari ya baharini.
Nilisimama palepale, nikiwa nimechanganyikiwa na mchanganyiko usio wa kawaida wa kifo cha ghafla na utulivu kama wa biashara. Mpwa huyo alitokea upesi akiwa na kundi lililofuata, ambalo aliliweka juu ya lile la awali kwa njia ile ile ya kimazoea. Kwa kuzingatia ukosefu wake wa hisia, nikaona ningeweza kuchungulia kwenye jalala bila kumuudhi mtu yeyote. Kitanda cha mbao cha mchana, kilichozungukwa na vitu vya nyumbani vyema kabisa, kilisukumwa upande mmoja kana kwamba, wakati wowote, mtu fulani angeketi pale na kitabu kwa ajili ya kusoma alasiri.
Sipendi kuona mambo yakiharibika na kitanda cha mchana kilikuwa tikiti tu ya chumba changu cha wageni; upholstery ya zamani inaweza kubadilishwa kwa urahisi. Lakini kuomba kuokoa kitu kutoka kwa walioondoka hivi karibuni kulionekana kuwa mbaya. Je, hii ilikuwa ni haki ya kijamii tu, au silika ya awali ambayo miiko hutokea? Ikiwa mpwa hakuhuzunishwa hasa na kifo cha shangazi yake, labda hangekasirika na ombi langu la kuokoa kipande cha samani cha motley. Kwa kusitasita, nilijitosa, “Nashangaa kama ningeweza kujitolea kununua kitanda hicho kutoka kwako, ikiwa unapanga kukiondoa?”
"Hapana, lakini ichukue. Unaweza kuipata." Alinipita bila kuangalia, bila kukosa. Nami nikaingia ndani ya jalala langu la kwanza.
Nimekuwa kwenye tovuti za kiakiolojia, najua weupe wa mfupa uliopauka na jua, madoa ya rangi ya chai iliyoachwa na ardhi. Hapa, hakuna tabaka za udongo zilizoficha kupatikana. Ili kufika kwenye kitanda cha mchana, ilinibidi tu kusogeza marundo ya matandiko. Chumba chake cha ukumbi lazima sasa kiwe tupu, kwa kuwa hapa kulikuwa na shuka zilizopigwa pasi, blanketi, kitani cha meza, na aina ya vitambaa vilivyopambwa na vya kusokotwa ambavyo hupatikana katika dari za wanawake wazee. Nilipoona haya, maombolezo yangu yakaanza tena.
Jioni kwa nyanya yangu tulikuwa tumejikunyata pamoja kwenye kitanda, tukitengeneza sindano za nyuzi za rangi kwenye miraba ya muslin, alipokuwa akinifundisha jinsi ya kuwapa sura ndege na maua tuliyopiga pasi kwenye taulo za jikoni za siku zijazo. Yale machache niliyobakiza ni kama dhahabu kwangu. Bibi yangu na Bi Cy walikuwa wa kizazi kimoja.
Babu na nyanya zetu walipokufa, mimi na kaka yangu tulilazimika kushughulikia mali zao. Ilikuwa mwishoni mwa miaka ya 70, wakati ambapo vita vya kudumu kati ya roho na maada vilipamba moto tena. Kwa kukubali mkazo wa kutojihusisha na mambo au kushikilia yaliyopita, tulitoa pesa nyingi sana na kuuza zilizosalia kwa wimbo. Vitu vilivyojazwa na mana ya mababu zetu vilipita kwa vidole vyetu, kwenda kwa wageni ambao hawakujali roho zao, lakini mambo yao tu.
Ndani ya dumpster walikuwa wakienda mabaki sawa ya maisha. Bibi Cy sikuwa namfahamu vizuri lakini ilibidi uchafu huu ukome. Hivi majuzi nilikuwa nimeweka nadhiri ya kidini ya unyenyekevu wa hiari na nilijitolea sana kupunguza matumizi yangu ya kupita kiasi kwa kuweka bidhaa zilizopo kwenye mzunguko na kuzitunza kwa uangalifu. Sikuweza kusimama karibu na kutazama wakati vitu vinavyoweza kutumika vikienda kwenye dampo la taka. Yule mpwa alielekea kwangu akiwa na mzigo mwingine nikaamua kukandamiza bahati yangu.
"Je, vitambaa na vitanda hivi vinaenda pia? Ningefurahi kukupa kitu kwa ajili yao pia." Nilielekeza kwenye rundo chini ya kitanda cha mchana.
"Oh, nadhani unaweza kuwa nao. Lakini ningehakikisha kuwa wamesafishwa."
Je, ni kifo chake ndicho kiliwachafua, au maisha yake? Nikijaribu kutokemea, nilimhakikishia nitaosha kila kitu, na nikaanza kuweka sanda kwenye kitanda cha mchana. Miongoni mwao kulikuwa na kifuniko cha lace cha mtindo wa zamani, kitambaa kizuri cha meza ya damask na napkins kadhaa zinazofanana katika sanduku lao la awali, na karatasi za pamba safi na vitambulisho vya kufulia kwenye pembe. Uchafu haukuonekana kuwa suala.
Baada ya kuweka kando mambo haya, nilienda nyumbani kuchukua lori langu. Niliporudi, hakuna mwanamume huyo wala mwanawe aliyetazama juu, sembuse aliyejitolea kunisaidia. Nilitoa kitanda cha mchana. Chemchemi za chuma na kujaza nywele za farasi zilifanya iwe nzito, lakini, kwa nguvu, niliweza kuipandisha kwenye flatbed. Niliamua kwamba nitarudi kwa mapumziko baada ya wale jamaa kuondoka.
Ilipofika saa tano gari lao lilikuwa limekwisha. Nikafungua milango mikubwa ya jalala. Nilipigwa na butwaa. Ilionekana kana kwamba kaya nzima ya Bi Cy ilikuwa imejazana ndani. Juu kulikuwa na Chesterfield ya kijani iliyofifia. Nisingeshangaa kuona mzimu wa hasira wa Bi Cy ukiruka juu tu.
Nikiwa nimevalia ubia huu wa jeans na buti za kazini, nilikaribia nikiwa na wasiwasi ambao ulipita zaidi ya usawa wa kijamii au maswala ya kisheria. Nini kilikuwa kimempata Carter alipofungua kaburi la Mfalme Tut kwa mara ya kwanza? Je, hakufariki muda mfupi baadaye?
Dampo lilikuwa limejaa. Kati ya tabaka za vitu visivyo na maana, hazina ziliibuka: vikapu kadhaa vidogo vya India, pamba ya kupendeza iliyotengenezwa kwa mikono ya manjano na kijani kibichi, jozi ya ukuta wa sanaa ya kitamaduni, taa ya shaba ya zamani na kivuli cha glasi iliyopeperushwa, karibu 1930, kitambaa kikubwa cha meza nyekundu kilichoshonwa na nyeupe. Taulo za chai ya dainty zilizowekwa na maua maridadi ya zambarau. Na vyombo vya jikoni vya kila aina, kana kwamba droo zote zimepinduliwa tu. Vipande vya lawn. Siagi ya karanga na sandwich ya jeli kwenye mfuko wa ziplock, mkate mweupe ungali wa mchicha.
Nilipoteza wimbo wa wakati katika ulimwengu huu wa jeneza. Kutoka mahali pa jua, ilionekana kuwa jioni ya mapema. Nilikuwa nimechoka. Uwindaji na mkusanyiko wangu ulikuwa mwingi. Lori langu lilikuwa limeshikana na shehena ya zana za mahali pa moto, chumba cha kupumzika, mmea wa Jade kwenye sufuria ya Wachina iliyoangaziwa.
Asubuhi iliyofuata nilirudi. Nilipokuwa nikipanda juu ya rundo, kisanduku cha mpanzi kiliinama, kikimwaga udongo mweusi kwenye koti la pamba la maji la Bi. Cy. Mvuto wa asili kwenye mboji ulikuwa na nguvu; Nilipiga kasia dhidi ya wimbi lake. Mtungi wa jamu ya sitroberi ulianguka kutoka kwa kisanduku cha kadibodi cha unyevu na kupasuka, na kuongeza ugumu wa kazi hiyo. Uchawi wa kipekee unaohusishwa na kupita kwa maisha ulijidhihirisha, kwani yaliyomo ambayo yalikuwa yamefungwa na kushikiliwa kwa muda mrefu kama mmiliki wao alianza kuvuta pumzi.
Hazina zaidi ziliibuka kutoka kwa mkanganyiko wa massa: leso nyekundu kuendana na kitambaa cha meza kilichofunuliwa jana - leso Gina aliinua; bakuli ndogo ya kioo iliyokatwa kwenye msingi wa fedha wa sterling; mfuko wa nguo ulio na nguo za pamba za kupendeza na koti za 1910 au 1915; sanduku ndogo iliyochongwa kutoka kwa bul ya walnut. Kisha, kutoka kwa mfuko wa ununuzi wa nondescript, kupata kushangaza zaidi: kofia ya satin ya cloche iliyopigwa na lulu na shali mbili za kale za hariri, moja ya rangi ya champagne na pindo ndefu, nyingine ya kina rose.
Nilipoyashughulikia haya, machozi yalitiririka kwa uzuri wao, na kuachwa kwao. Je, vitu hivi vilikuwa sehemu ya trousseau ya harusi yake kutoka nchi ya zamani? Je, kwa kuwaingiza kwenye begi, mpwa au mke wake alikuwa ameupa kisogo urithi wa familia, jinsi mama na baba yangu pia walivyogeukia asili zao za ulimwengu wa kale?
Shali za Bi. Cy, kofia ya lulu, na nguo za kale zingeingia kwenye kifua cha bibi yangu cha mwerezi kando ya taulo zake na nguo ya bibi yangu nyingine nyeusi ya lace. Urithi wa mwanamke hukaa katika mali za urithi kama hizi, zilizohifadhiwa kwa matukio maalum na kuhifadhiwa mahali ambapo mwanga mkali wa mchana hauwezi kuzima mng'ao wao. Nyuzi za nguo hizi hugusa nyama ya kizazi kimoja, kisha kingine, na kinachofuata, kwa kusuka safu ya maisha na weft.
Mambo ya Bibi Cybulski yalianza kuishi katika nyumba yangu. Vijiti vya bati vilitundikwa juu ya mahali pa moto, mto ulienda kwenye ukuta ili kuangaza chumba. Taa ya shaba ilimwaga miaka yake ya oxidation, sanduku la walnut lililochomwa lilikunywa mafuta ya limao. Nilifua nguo zote na blanketi, sio ili kuwaondolea harufu ya kifo, bali kuwaheshimu kwa kuwafurahisha. Ibada hii ya upya ilipokamilika, niliwasha mishumaa kwenye sconces na kusema sala kwa Bibi Cy. Nilimtakia kila la kheri katika safari yake na kumshukuru kwa wema huu ambao haukutarajiwa. Niliomba msamaha kwa kuwasumbua jamaa zake na nilitumaini angeelewa.
Matukio fulani yanafanana na ndoto. Wao ni kama kokoto ambayo huanguka ndani ya ziwa, mawimbi yanaenea polepole hadi maji yote yanadhibiti matokeo yake. Au feri ya bracken, iliyobana na iliyoshikana inapochomoza kwanza juu ya ardhi, baadaye inajipinda kwa upana mkubwa. Na ndivyo imekuwa kwa kukutana kwangu na jalala lililoegeshwa chini ya kizuizi miaka mingi iliyopita. Bado hutiririka katika maisha yangu kama ndoto inayojidhihirisha pande zote kuzunguka bua la kati.
Wazee wangu pia walikuwa wahamiaji wa kizazi cha kwanza, ambao walifika katika nchi hii na kile tu walichoweza kubeba. Kidogo walichokuja kukimiliki kilikuwa chao kwa maisha. Kitu chochote kilichovunjika kilirekebishwa; viti na sofa zimefunikwa tena, meza zilizosafishwa. Vitu havikuja na kuondoka lakini vilibakia, na kuongeza utulivu wa ulimwengu. Nilicho nacho kinachangia uzito wa nafsi yangu.
Ni kawaida siku hizi kuomboleza jinsi tumekuwa wapenda mali, lakini siamini kuwa hii ni sahihi. Inaonekana kwangu kuwa bado hatujaanza kuthamini jambo. Mengi yanayofanywa leo hayakusudiwi kudumu na hayawezi kurekebishwa. Mana hatuwezi kujaza mali zetu. Kwa kukosa dutu, haziwezi kuwa vyombo sahihi vya roho. Tunaweza kuuliza vitu vinatoka wapi, lakini hawana tena hadithi za kusimulia. Wao pia wamepoteza mizizi yao. Je, ni jinsi gani, basi, tunapaswa kuacha kumbukumbu zetu zinazoonekana tunapoenda? Nini kitabaki kubembeleza?

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23 PAST RESPONSES
Hopefully beautiful memories...
Thank you for your sensitive attention to old fashioned beauty and quality. Sadly, those days are over. Your care, resurrection and preservation warm my heart.
with Love, LoWell
I have often speculated that when I go, by daughters will do the same: but, I have asked them call a donation center such as St. Vincent dePaul, Salvation Army (not Goodwill-profit making) to come and take all that they need. Hold a 'free' or dollar yard sale - proceds to animal shelter. The rest can then go in the 'trash'. I have been de-cluttering since I retired from teaching in 2014. I want to leave as little as possible for anyone to go through, for their sake and mine.
It is such a sad reflection on life that this is sum of a lady's life. It has me thinking, what will be the sum of my life?
I am glad this lady rescued some of these treasurers.
Blessings
I come from a practical family on my mother's side; I recall stories of her father burning the victrola for firewood, not because they were that desperate but because it was 'not a necessity' type piece. How I long for that family history.
On the flip side, I have my grandmother's coffee mug and photos of her from teenhood on her family's farm. Treasure.
My we honor these family materials and memories
I envy your find! But I also feel sorry for this family who seemed to have no awareness of the tremendous need in communities. Most surprisingly (to me at least) is that these items were placed in a
[Hide Full Comment]dumpster (!!) instead of being shared with people who have so little
(Salvation Army, rescue orgs, homeless shelters, etc.). I can
understand a time crunch and wanting to just get it over with, but what
sort of message does that send to the little boy on the corner? This
could have been an opportunity to teach about sharing or poverty or
people left with nothing after flood or fire. What a gift some of these things could have been to someone who had lost everything through no fault of their own.
I hope they kept SOMEThing with which to remember this woman who died -- it would mean that there is within them an appreciation or connection to her as part of their family or at the very least an appreciation for the artisanship of these "things" made by hand long ago. From your story it seems as if there was no such appreciation as well as no attempt to share (until you asked).
Your appreciation and rescue of these "things" from the landfill is really gift to all of us who value the work and artisanship of those who came before us.
Whenever I feel strongly about a person,whether the veterinarian who showed a little extra
compassion to an elderly feline of mine,or the coworker who made my day,I find giving
something that I cherish to that person makes me feel like I am giving a little piece of myself
away while I can appreciate it,not when I am dead and gone.Try it,you'll like it!SCole
I love this story. It is so beautifully written! And it is giving me a lot to think about as I face a move. What to keep, what to give to the Salvation Army, what to offer to friends and family... The observation about mana and cherished objects is important. Steiner once observed Spirit is never without matter, and matter is never without spirit. Pondering that observation is helpful to me. Your tender article brought these issues into life! Thank you.
Certainly a thought-provoking article , yes, in a sense, even inspiring ......but in our case it was like preaching to the choir and the preacher all in one. We have indulged in the same life-long love relationship with our past . Some friends address us as rat packs to our faces. Retired teacher, coach, nurse , volunteers.....we collected our own museum pieces indeed and chronicles of lives indeed blessed. Can you imagine living in one's own home for 25 years , raising 4 children , and then inheriting a heritage property well over 150 years old and in time compressing the 2 into the smaller, older one in less than 30 days in the dead of winter in 1998 ? Down-sizing? Hah ! More like super-sizing on a bun ! We lived in a veritable warehouse for months/years with every nook and cranny engulfed with treasures from our and my wife's families. We continue today to venture on safari-like adventures to open boxes, unlabelled due to haste, miniature tombs of discovery and boundless memories ! Thank you .
[Hide Full Comment]I love this story. Thank you for writing it. I find myself always trying to capture pieces of my relative's past through the items that they have left behind. I do not find it material, yet spiritual in a strange way...like there is a connection, the only connection that I have in some cases.
This is a wonderful read. I think about this a great deal. This would be a wonderful addition to the studies being done on the effects of technology on society. How can we evolve technologically and still find value. I thinks it's possible. Thanks for sharing this.