LULLABIES FOR ALMA

TUESDAY 21st OF JUNE LULLABIES FOR ALMA, EVERYWHERE IN THE WORLD!

The lullabies ("nanas" in Spanish) have become the way of several mothers to reach little Alma and try to reassure her from the distance, in their desperation, a group of mothers in Madrid have been gathering outside the shelter where Alma sleeps every night and they sing to her. If you want to sing to Alma, you can send a poem or an audio/video file to rompiendoaguas@gmail.com

Here is a video of one of the vigils:

HABIBA. NANAS PARA ALMA from Beatriz Zorraquin on Vimeo.


If you want to sing to Alma, you can organise a vigil in your area (let us know) or you can send a poem or an audio/video file to rompiendoaguas@gmail.com, with the subject "Lullabies for Alma"



And here is a song by Rafa Sanchez dedicated to Habiba and Alma:







Dear Alma,

The words you usually hear around you are in a language I don’t speak. The words you are beginning formulate to express yourself are words I would not understand. You will probably never see this, never read it or have it read to you. Still, I have something to say to you.

She didn’t leave you Alma. She’s hurting too. She’s fighting for you.

Around the world there are millions of women tasting the salt of your mother’s tears on their own cheeks. There are mommies and daddies that walk very different paths whose arms feel the lonely ache your absence brings to your mother’s arms. Little girls and boys who hug their mommies tight when they hear your story. Voices that speak “I love you baby” in thousands of different languages sing lullabies of comfort in your name. So many pairs of breast tighten as your mama’s breasts tighten at a feeding you are missing. Families tossing and turning on mats, beds, cots, pallets and hammocks with the loss of warmth your mother experiences with you not snuggled safely next to her. Where you belong.

She didn’t leave you Alma. She’s hurting too. She’s fighting for you.

Around the world names are being signed, letters sent, articles written, people gathering, signs made and held all because we feel your mommy’s hurt. We feel the forced abandonment you and your mother are having to endure. We’re angry. But not at you. At those who don’t understand and are so concerned with appearing to be right they won’t admit they were wrong and so inflict more harm upon you and your mother. For their pride.

She didn’t leave you Alma. She’s hurting too. She’s fighting for you.

How do I know this? Because even though we pray differently, even though my skin is a different color, even though there is a different language on my tongue, even though my clothes are a different style, when it comes to loving you, I know your mothers heart. It’s like my own.

She didn’t leave you Alma. She’s hurting too. She’s fighting for you.

I have a little girl, just 2 months older than you. She walks and she speaks a few words but she’s still so much a baby. She finds comfort and nourishment at my breast, sometimes she eats big girl food and other times just throws it on the ground preferring the soft warmth of me. Her favorite place to sleep is curled up to my side where she can smell me, feel me, sense my breath and hear my heartbeat. I call her Smunchie. These days she likes to explore but often comes back to me with unsteady steps and arms raised to be close again. Together we do what comes naturally. Some people call it a style of parenting but for us it’s just called love. It’s how we are together. Not everyone understands it but that’s ok, they don’t have to, she and I understand it. Like you and your mama understand it. It’s what comes naturally to us, part of being mama and bebe.

She didn’t leave you Alma. She’s hurting too. She’s fighting for you.

But nobody has torn Smunchie and me apart. Nobody has taken her from me, she has not experienced me suddenly gone from her life. Her favorite food, comfort and person in the world remain with her. She lives in love. She knows security. If someone took her from me I wouldn’t be able to sleep, to eat, I’m not sure I could breathe. Oh sweet Alma, how I ache for your mother but how I weep for you. I have seen my children suffer and been helpless to stop it and it is a pain more agonizing than any I have endured. Your mother has a goal, something to do to keep her focused and pushing through the suffering not having you brings. But you, dear one, all you know is she is gone. All you know is in this moment everything that has been your truth is no longer there. Your cruel reality is no hope, you don’t even know what hope is. She is not there. Period. Her breath, her arms, her heartbeat, her voice, her breast, her milk, her smell all gone. Love, gone. From what I understand you have brief moments together but under the watchful eye of someone that doesn’t understand your love and your communication. Someone that prevents what comes so naturally to you and your mother. These bittersweet moments must confuse you and hurt so much yet give you a glimpse of the love you know. Why did she leave? Why doesn’t she stay? Is she going to leave again? Fear has replaced love. You may not know hope but you now know fear.

How I pray that one day soon again you will know love freely again.

She didn’t leave you Alma. She’s hurting too. She’s fighting for you.

The people that did this are wrong. They are people that are supposed to help, people that you are supposed to trust. But this time they are wrong. Very wrong. And their pride is keeping them from fixing their wrong. They don’t understand when they are faced with something different from what they’ve come to accept as normal. Or someone different from them. The world is like this sometimes. I wish you did not need to experience this harsh reality so soon in your life. And now that you have you should be able to find security in your anchor, your mother. Your truth. But they have taken that away because they don’t understand. They are wrong.

She didn’t leave you Alma. She’s hurting too. She’s fighting for you.

We’re fighting for you too. To fight for you we are telling your story. We’re signing our names. We’re standing outside Spanish Embassies and sending letters demanding you and your mother be reunited. That they rectify the wrong they’ve made. We’re sharing articles, making phone calls, sending faxes, making t-shirts, identifying with your mama and doing what we can where we are. To honor you and your mother we’re hugging our babies closer. Offering our breasts with gratitude. Laying down at night saying a prayer. It doesn’t feel like enough. Nothing will until you are where you belong. You belong with your mother, home. You belong with Love.

She didn’t leave you Alma. She’s hurting too. She’s fighting for you.

We all are.

Sending all my love,

Jessica, The Leaky Boob. A mommy.