1) Lela's Song - Turkey (From Songs From The Women Of The L. O. M.) (Prose / Bio) Poem by Otradom Pelogo

Lela's Song
(I got the idea of the ‘Song' while talking to Lela, you'll see as I explain in the following paragraphs, while talking to her one evening and feeling comfortable enough, like she simultaneously did, tried to explain and show her some of the things that I do. I played some of the recordings that I had made some time ago of some of the poetry that I had written to hear how it sounded, for editing purposes, which she only considered interesting. I then sat her down, and after a little while of talking to her, I decided that I wanted to keep her story, ‘song', and picked up the computer and began to write it as she sat there watching me compose as much as I could remember her telling me, up until that very moment. At the end of about half a page, I scrolled back up to the top and titled it ‘Lela's Song'. I could, though I was myself truly surprised, see that she authentically enjoyed an uncontrollable moment of pleasure, as she sat up and turned her head to the side for only a short moment, the virtuous embarrassment of having someone do something nice for her, before returning back with the mask.)

Lela, Nanya's friend, had seen me come in one late afternoon and walked up to me and went through the motions of preparing to sit down for a long and intriguing conversation, and watched me pass up something that she knew I wanted, ironically the polished product which she was pretending to present to me, when she knew that I was totally preoccupied with a few things on my mind, but something that I had been asking for, subliminally and subconsciously; not only and intimate relationship, here, intimate meaning to have an in-depth conversation, talking beyond the superficial salutations, and being extended where we would, I guess you would say, although it was fate that had brought us together, become friends, but I guess it manifested itself more than even I thought. Only when I had decided that it wasn't there any longer did it appear, and she felt safe enough to play with it, while I sat and had a cup of coffee with way too much on my mind.

Lela is a young and vibrantly beautiful lady; twenty-one years old whom I met in the beautiful city of Dubai. Today, unlike the first time that we met, her hair is streaked with light brown rather than jet black, like the first time that it was when I met her, the streaks of brown, being a fashionable trend, but something that I couldn‘t help notice, but didn‘t note, or dare mention, that how lovely she looked with straight ebony black hair sitting just below her shoulders. And I couldn't help notice as we sat there, how I could see so many faces, not here in the Middle East, but back home, seeing her being mother to many American women I have met in the past and also now; and through her, having a chance to sit and talk with them.

Having been there for four years, leaving a son and mother in Turkey; Istanbul, for like many people, whether Dubai, New York or LA, to find not a better life, but more financial opportunity until one manifest's itself at home. Ironically, her son is only four years old, dramatically enough, leaving him at the age of only six months old, going home whenever the opportunity presents itself to see him, and of course her Mom who keeps him fed, clothed and loved until she returns to assure him that all, if not yet is well, will soon be.
The days, something I tried to find out, even wanted to know about, hasn't been all perfect for Lela, some days have been, God forbid, perpetually a struggle, for I have seen, although with hope, it would only be transitory, those days while traveling through the US from one city to another; trying to find work, a place to stay, etc., but she, with a realistic understanding of her situation, has faith that she will make it. For as I sat there with my mind racing to keep up with her attempt at discretely trying to explain, that life for some of the young ladies there in the Deira district, as with many other places, can be a plight. The adjustments of understanding this had to be made instantaneously and transformed back into a cordial conversation of still discrete empathy, where my thoughts would not be an interruption to our litany, and thus we sat there in a dimly lit room as she continued describing her affair with what life sometimes, as I said, in a providential manner; (providential) , it being a prelude to another life unfolding without true awareness of it, that will still discretely enough deliver many more positive outcomes to a beautiful young lady named Lela.

Of course I struggled still with my advice of trying an orthodox approach of asking about finding work, but I knew that it would be a cliché heard many times, followed by a well prepared answer, for I know after meeting many people while traveling through the US, that there can be many reasons as to why or why not; something, because of all the many different reason, I gave the title, 'A Most Complex Situation', even more so in the Middle East, especially for women. There are many similarities that she apparently spoke of, while even prudently trying to explain her situation, which I have seen throughout America while traveling from coast to coast. Getting enough money to come to Dubai, it is only the beginning of what could possibly be a long road, and after getting there, is when it starts. For she spoke of the issue of rent, trying to earn the money to pay for the apartment on a day to day basis, and having enough left over for even life's basic necessities, which when just starting out, can be very costly until she's able to save up the money for the daily rent. Because of course, she is just starting out, she want have the money for the rent, or deposit; the things she needs on a daily basis: food, clothing, personal items, and if God doesn't forbid, a personal life where there is a little happiness other than knowing that one day it will turn out right.

I have thought about this, and it can change from relocating to a different country to try and find a better opportunity, which is almost unheard of in America; least migrating to and not from; thus a very bold move to begin with; to homelessness, by it's varied definitions - until one has a permanent place of their own, to what it can change into, though at the moment I'm speaking of the more austere aspects, like becoming complacent or oppressed by an ever present struggle to try and, as they say, ‘get ahead'. And though I have seen it manifest itself in many places back home, I couldn't help but have it resurface here while thinking about the people in Iraq about a year and a half ago, when I first started my job overseas. And once more, the reasons are quite diverse as to why people could be going through, although worlds away, similar plights to trying to attain a better life. Ironically I was reading an article on the internet; looking up Chechnya, trying to find out more about the world of Nanya, and it stated that the unemployment rate was about seventy-six percent; I think eight percent would be considered a major recession in the US, and certainly because of the recent happenings in Iraq, making these two places almost identical, as far as the problems that many of the people would be having trying to attain this better lifestyle. Yet I thought it was an overlooked understatement that I had read in Government and the Economy by Lane and Ersson, that said that income or GDP of a country and its people, doesn't justify true quality or happiness of life. And thought about both above statements, overcoming austere circumstances and true quality of life, while meeting the people in Iraq for the first time, although from the inside of a cab of an eighteen-wheeler, yet only several feet away if not inches away on many occasions. And seeing them farming, herding, selling merchandise on side of the road; I said that the day that there will be Wal Marts, K Marts and Targets out here, the day the economy starts booming, they will be a really competitive people, which we know that competition makes the pie bigger for everyone, and seeing people, men, women and children living in landfills, along with their livestock, (in the future, even now in America, these are prudent investments) , yet I couldn't help but carry the weight of these two concepts, with the only resolution for either, being that things will get better in the future. Though not as someone looking for answers, but someone with sympathy, I find empathy a very trying word at times, for it's truly hard to put yourself in someone else's shoes when you know that they are going through a trying time. I often hope to one day meet them, in the landfills, herding or selling merchandise on side of the road, for I would attain the same pleasure as meeting them walking down the streets back in my hometown, or any town, USA. It's something that I couldn't explain or find the words for, and wouldn't dare write until after having the conversation that Lela and I had the evening we were sitting down a thousand miles away in Dubai.

Though like everywhere else I have been, I can see things changing, especially for women, and thought about the book that I recently finished reading on Princess Sultana Al Su'ad's of Saudi Arabia, called Princess Sultana's Circle. It's a story authored by Jean Sasson, where together these two women help describe the oppression of women in the Middle East and plot out a resolution for helping them overcome it. Being a princess of the royal family who prudently is working for women's rights, where troubling enough, her two daughters take a dichotomous trek on the affair. One daughter siding along with her mother's quest for those rights, and the other clinging staunchly with the traditional orthodox Muslim customs. It was a book where when searching through it for notes and certain passages, I found myself reading chapters over again, only to be touched equally as much, and could have seen a passage on the lovely young lady name Lela, seeking a better life with great youth, beauty and potential, yet with the elusive limited access of choices. So I tried surreptitiously, by asking her could I pay for her to take a trip somewhere just to get away for a while, to see where the oppression had settled, though I think it was the accepting so soon, which made her say no more than anything else. We sat and talked several times afterwards before I prepared and headed out on a short journey to Europe for the first time, other than Holland, ironically where the house that harbored a young lady called Ann Frank and her family from the Nazis before being captured and put in a concentration camp is located. This is only a small passage of the time we shared, the rest I shall work out later to find out just as much about life as about this young lady named Lela, and even myself.