Building schools in rural areas

This past weekend, I had a video call with my 7th grade teacher Luis Briceño. We have stayed in touch over the years, but after a few messages back and forth, he decided to call me on video. Lots of good memories came back, especially about what an amazing Educator he was- one of those inspiring people who came into my life at an early age, full of energy and creativity, and opened my eyes to a world beyond.

Today, my Profe, as we used to call him then, lives in Santiago, Chile, because the situation in Venezuela made some of the best professionals pack their bags, and look for new horizons. However challenging and new everything has been for him and his family, he continues to inspire. He called me to ask about the construction we do of housing and schools in Namibia, and understand better how he can push me beyond!

Over the past few weeks, he’s been encouraging me to watch a movie: “The Boy Who Harnessed the Wind”, available on Netflix. I didn’t watch it until after our call, and now I am hoping everyone will watch it.

On our video call, he asked me about the classrooms and schools Atenu Developments builds in remote towns and villages of Namibia. I explained that we look for donors and organizations in Namibia and around the world, who want to fund projects that our team then goes to implement in some of the areas with most need. We partner with the communities first, and work with their tribal and local leadership and parents to drive community meetings, whereby they talk amongst themselves about the importance of education, language, community, and whether building classrooms is what they really want. Hannah Laufer taught me this concept, we call it “Meeting Under a Tree”. This assured that teachers and foods will be provided by them and that the infrastructure is just a vehicle for that goal! In the end, it’s a project by them, for them, and we are just their partners.

I shared, in as much detail as I could, some of the hardships communities endure, but also shed light on the happiness and motivation of the many who live there. Every community’s project is unique, difficult and amazing. I told him about how hard it is to find materials, but how gratifying it is to make due; how challenging it is to employ people who never held a job, but how rewarding it is to see them develop; and finally, how powerful it is to see an entire generation of kids be empowered by the infinite tools of education. I left him with stories about the socio-economic drivers that inspire me and keep me up at night to want to help bring more education to some of these towns.

The Movie I saw took me off the grid for a whole day. It’s been a mix of emotions. For one, I recognize in that movie, many of the small towns and communities I have visited not only in Namibia, but throughout Africa. I recognize a sense of family and community that is unparalleled, and a commitment to ethics and parenthood that can’t be matched. I saw in the film, many of the communities I’ve visited, represented by values of hard-work, perseverance, endurance and faith. Unfortunately, I also saw the perils of poverty during droughts, or the fight for better access to education (infrastructure and funding). Today is Heroes Day in Namibia, and as we celebrate the heroes of independence, I wonder how do we continue to build more heroes from places where before it was thought impossible?

The movie left me thinking and questioning if we have done enough in the towns we have built classrooms, and anxious about all the towns we have not even reached. In the places we have built, have we collaborated enough to inspire, touch lives, recognize the children who go unnoticed? The ones who are left behind because their families could not afford to send them to study?

I invite everyone to watch that movie, and share your thoughts. But most importantly, find and touch as many villages and towns as you can... empower the youth of today with education, it’s the eminent answer to global poverty.

We are soon kicking off a construction project with the amazing Meryl Barry from the Pupkewitz Foundation at Okapembambu, in Northwest Namibia. Over 400 kids currently live and study there. The school is in a mountain, an hour drive from the closest supermarket. There is not one formal classroom; the current structures are shacks and mud houses. There is no electricty, and water is scarce. However, when we held our last planning visit (as we prepare building plans and community engagements), hundreds of kids received us singing and in happy spirits that can only uplift the soul.

We hope to build classrooms and hostels for all the kids.

I pray that we are able to not just build classrooms and hostels, but inspire and strengthen a generation of kids that will “harness the wind”. As I put pen to paper to plan this project, my worry is not longer about how will we manufacture the bricks or source the rest of the materials, but how effective will our impact be on every single boy and girl who’s yet to harness the wind.

Attached some photos of Okapembambu!

Building her own house: Inge Shatona Shekupe in Oshifo, Ruacana (Namibia)

Today I met Mrs. Inge Shatona Shekupe in Oshifo, a small town in Ruacana, Northern Namibia. She approached me and asked me if she could buy cement from us - she wanted 20 bags and had the cash in hand.

Surprised, I asked her who would pick up the cement from our warehouse. She said she would make a plan and hire somebody to drop it off as she was going to build her own house. I was curious what she was actually building, so I volunteered to drop off the 20 bags myself.

What follows is the most inspiring and shocking encounter I have had in housing in Namibia. Our company Atenu Developments builds and sells housing for civil servants who get bank loans to buy proper homes. Inge, who is a self-employed, street-seller, would never be able to afford a home with us.

Inge has a small street shop selling onions, mangos and other fruits she plants. She also sells a few creams through catalogues. On a good month, she makes upto N$1,000 (less than US$100)... How can a person like that ever dream of owning a home? That is one of Namibia's [and the World's] most pressing issues.

She rents from the Municipality a piece of land in the Location, and pays her water bill on time. She drew a building plan by hand, and paid someone N$900 to draught it for Municipal approval.

When I got to her site I asked her where she bought her bricks? She said she made them herself. When I asked where was the machine? She said "I made them by hand"!!

She has been saving for two years and making  bricks one by one, by hand, by herself. She has now made all the bricks she needs. In the last month she has been digging the trenches of what will be her home, and today she bought from us cement to cast her foundation this coming week.

I recorded her speaking for a few minutes in the video attached. I asked her what message can she give the people of Namibia, and she said "Be strong enough. Oh, Shatona Shekupe having a house, me too I can make my own house!" She says not to wait to pursue your dream of a home. As soon as you make money, save it and start building up your future home!

I spent the afternoon getting to know her. I am blown away. How many things have you not pursued thinking you weren't ready or worthy? Inge Shatona Shekupe will build her dream home!

UPDATE on Facebook: Many have asked me how they can help support Meme Shatona Shekupe. For anyone interested in donating to her, I will handle personally the funds and help her with her house. For USD donations or Debit carda, Here is the GoFundMe page. I will include the names of all those who donate in a letter to her when we raise some money! https://www.gofundme.com/inge-shatona-shekupe039s-dream-home - if you are in Namibia and prefer to send me money directly to my phone, I will keep it separate, +264815802527.

Himba Adventures in the Kunene

This past weekend I was transformed. Our team was chosen to build a clinic compound for a very indigenous community in the northwest region Kunene, on top of the Zebra mountains, at a town called Otjomuru.

Background:

The people who live there are of a tribe called the Himba. This specific Himba sect has been marginalized and forgotten in history. The Deputy Prime Minister and my personal hero, Dr. Libertina Amathila found them lost in the mountains, marginalized as a people pushed into isolation in the due to wars in Namibia and Angola. Over the last 15 years, she's built them a school and a hostel for kids to sleep, and little by little gained their trust. Last year, children died because the closest town (or clinic) is over 3 hours drive.. There and then she decided something must be done, and the Pupkewitz Foundation, Claud Bosch Architects and Dr. Amathila hired us to help bring about a change!

The adventure!

I've been building in Namibia for over four years, but never had I gone so off-road to build a project. There is no running water or electricity, much less a place to buy food. A solar panel water pump was installed and teams of community members made on site over 50,000 bricks, with the help of Dr Linertina's team. Keep in mind, we sent tribal groups to the rivers to search for river sand and stones for all our bricks and concrete needs. We brought almost a 1,000 bags of cement on a 9 hour drive to prep the site.

Our team arrived Friday night, so late that I was actually worried we may have gone to the wrong village. It actually happened to be my Hebrew birthday, and Ndahanwapo (one of our foremen) found out and sang me happy birthday at least three times (diff languages) on the road! 

Upon arrival, I felt like we were settling no-mans land at night. We built our tents (yes, there are no hotels nearby) and we went to sleep. In the morning we woke up to find out Dr Amathila was camping out with us to monitor the kick off of our work- she's the most hands on and inspiring leader I've come across Namibia. She was actually laughing that we put up our tents in the middle of the village- almost as if settling in the place. We quickly moved out to a side and found an amazing group of trees that gave us eternal shade when we needed it most.

We spent the next two days hiring community members and planning the works. Our core team was made up by our project manager Tjipa Makale- who is the leader in manufacturing all of our bricks in Ruacana, and a group of five Owambo men from our Omusati office, who had never even been in the Kunene region, much less in a Himba village. Shipangelo, Ndahanwapo, Isaac, Jeremia and Filipus. I bonded with these guys in ways that I haven't with any of our construction teams, because in the mountains there is no cell phone signal.

The first order of business the guys decided was to build a shower. They quickly made a small 2x2 room of bricks standing one on top of the other, and in less than 30 minutes the 5 guys had finished a shower. Im telling you - speed in construction is based on need. Then we built a storage shack (or so they convinced me). Right after we finished building the shack - about 6x3 meters. I saw wheelbarrows running to get bricks. When I peaked inside, I noticed they had paved the entries shack with interlocks, moved in their tents and built a proper house. Shipangelo, looked at me smiling and said, now we can say we are living better than the boss!

The rest of the two days was spent in a variety of tasks. Our teams measured the clinic and the house for the nurses, dug out the trenches, prepped the land with anti termite poison and mixed concrete to finish the foundation. In less than two days, Dr Amathila was laying the cornerstone.

I must say working with her is one of the most refreshing feelings. I've been reading her book, autobiographical, and everything I do has new meaning. She always talked of planting during exile in the refugee camps she ran, so I decided to surprise her. I brought along six packs of vegetable seeds (carrots, cabbage, maize, tomatoes, Etc), and in an hour she had organized a team to reach the community how to plant and built a vegetable garden in the backyard! 

One of the highlights of my trip was getting stuck in a river on my way down from the mountains. I left our construction teams settled and ready for the next two months, and headed south east with Tjipa.

I was actually carrying tons of materials, and Tjipa had advanced much more than I on the road to Opuwo. I was giving a ride to two Himbas I picked up on the road, a very old lady who sat on the back of my truck like the queen, and a very warrior-like, half naked tribesman, who made funny jokes, none of which I could understand. Both sat on the back of my truck, as their red powder catches on and would stain the car. 

What happened next is out of a movie. When I got stuck in the river, the tribesman jumped out and made a bird noise, holding his two hands close to his mouth. In the span of ten minutes, as my car sank in muddy waters, over two dozen tribesmen came out of the bush to help. Initially they were all in shock to see a white man on his knees, dirty from the mud trying to save his car. The whole scene was new and likely funny to them. 

I got out of the mud, dirtier than on my worst kindergarten says, and screamed in my best Himba a phrase I learned on an excursion with my mother to a Himba village - "ehh o birra, samaleka, helpa!!" - somehow I think I offered black label beer to anyone who helped. My mother and I had been to a Himba village a year earlier and when we brought them food and staples, they danced around in a circle with us. Months later when I played the video to a Himba guy in the capital, he told me they were singing "oh birra samaleka"- one beer black label. I never knew if that was the phrase they associated with happiness, or if while dancing they actually asked us for a pack of beer. In any case, it's a moment my mother and I will never forget.

Back to the river. I was freaking out. My car was sinking. It was 6pm. I had no signal - I had actually texted Tjipa (our project manager) 20 times over begging him to come save me but the messages didn't seem to send. One of the Himba man took my phone to a nearby tree, saying signal will eventually catch on that one. I don't know why but I gave him my phone and he ran- not away, but to the tree. I also thought about it a few times, but eventually stopped caring and focused my attention on the sinking car. 

About 12 of the men were on their knees with me trying to throw dry sand and move the muddy waters from around the wheels. Others were bringing stones, while cars drove past and offered help in different ways.

An hour must have gone by. If it wasn't for all those tribesman, my car would have been deeper in the river. They took everything out of my car to reduce weight and put it on the side of the road. A few times I actually turned around in disbelief wondering if my things were still there. They were, neatly packed and guarded. That is something that refreshes me over and over again - Namibians are good, kind and full of heart.

Eventually, Tjipa showed up, the tree worked! He was confused at the sight - all my belongings on the side of the road, myself and 20 Himbas sinking in mud pushing my car. He laughed, then got to work. We tried three times, everyone gave a rope (luckily I had bought one at MegaBuild for emergencies), and after a few failed attempts, we went for the gold. 

Tjipa's Land Cruiser pulled my Nissan NP300 out of the muddy river, while 8 of us pushed from the back with all our hearts, as ropes ripped off. The celebration that followed is one of the most memorable moments in my time in Namibia. The entire crowd of people jumped, as if their team had won the World Cup. Two of the Himba men carried me in celebration out of the mud while screaming. Remembering kind of makes me want to do it over again.

We packed my belongings, laughed and hugged. I paid my dues, there was enough for everyone to have a samaleka, and Tjipa and I headed to Opuwo. This time the "Queen" riding in his car as mine was a tad dirty, and the "Warrior" on mine. It was the highlight of a too/eventful weekend.

Upon arrival in Opuwo, Tjipa and I walked in to a restaurant to grab a quick bite before heading to Ruacana where another project was calling us. Guess who was the only person eating there? Dr Amathila. She was on the floor laughing when I told her the story. We shared a nice moment, ate an incredible meal, and looked forward to the coming adventures. 

Coffee with Max Kirschberg

 Max Kirschberg - September 3, 2016

Today, I had coffee with an amazing human - Max Kirschberg. He is a a holocaust survivor, who like many others lost his entire family and started from scratch at the age of 21, nothing to his name and mostly a nightmare of a childhood.

My brother Arie Akinin and I met him yesterday at the Jaccuzi. He is 91 years old. Speaks more than a handful of languages, father of 6, has visited Namibia (his ancestors founded Kirschberg Mountain) and has the kind of angelic personality that inspires us to be people of good.

Here are a few thoughts from Max!

Max was born February 13, 1925 in Breslau, Germany (now Poland). His father 'disappeared' during Kristallnacht, and his mother and sister Esther were separated from him and exterminated in concentration camps.

...about the biggest regret of his life.
"Not having had the chance to say good bye to my mother. We were brutally separated in a camp, and I never thought that would be the last time I'd see her eyes. I've often wanted to say good bye."

...about friendship.
"It was a tough concept to grasp during my time in the camps. One day you had a friend; the next he was not there."

...about forgiveness and hate.
"I forgive. I'd like to think I do. I can't hate. I don't know how to, and I don't think anyone should. Leaders spread hate, and the people follow. Hate is not something nations feel.

Hate consumes us. It takes over. I'd never want to feel it or pass it on to my grandkids."

...about being released from the concentration camps.
"I was in Auschwitz and Buchenwald. When the war was coming to an end, the Americans opened our camp.

I remember vividly, Captain Fichter stormed in and screamed: "who the hell speaks English here?".
I timidly answered, "I speak English, but not your kind of English" (I had learned British English in my childhood.
The captain, relieved, looked at me and asked "Do you have anyone left?".
I shook my head.
"Would you mind coming with us?", he asked.
I found my first job as a translator for a few years.

...about his first kiss.
"It was with a German girl in the town where I was translating."
(When I asked about being able to date someone from the same culture of the people who had murdered his whole family...)
"With women one can only feel special, I was able to feel things I had never felt before"

...about reconnecting with anyone from his family.
"The only family member I thought could be alive was my mother's brother Juan, who after being released from a prison during WW1 in Poland thanks to my mother's activism, he moved to Colombia. I had no way of finding his address, so I came up with a crazy idea...

I wrote a letter to the president of Colombia. Since I didn't speak Spanish, and I had learned Latin at an ear/ly age, I thought it would be best to write to a president in Latin. In the letter I mentioned I was looking for my uncle Juan, a polish Jew now living in his country. The president evidently received the letter, and in a month's time I had a response from my uncle!"

...about his proudest moment in life.
"Receiving a letter from my uncle. Feeling and knowing that I finally had a family despite everything I went through."

...about his trip to Colombia.

I flew Germany - Portugal - Dakar - Puerto Espana - Brazil - Caracas - Bogota! I arrived there in November 1946 at the age of 21!

...about the hardship of starting anew.
"It was a new beginning. Hard is what you don't want to do."

...about education.
"I wanted to study, but it cost a lot of money in Colombia, so I went back to Germany. I wanted to study medicine, but every time I saw blood I fainted. So I studied Organic Chemistry.

Then, I went to get a job, and they told me, "come back when you are a doctor". So I went to Switzerland and I got a PhD in Chemistry. I started my own dry cleaning soap manufacturing business and lived in Germany until the 1970's. I then moved again to Colombia!"

...about fear of death.
"I'm not afraid. Our system is to be born and to die. There's nothing in this world that isn't going to die. Unfortunately, religion has made it even tougher."

...about his favorite city.
"It's got to be Rome. I'm going there soon again with my son"


David Akinin, Max Kirschberg and Arie Akinin

On the two drops of oil

I spent the past 7 months in Santiago, Chile - pursuing Paulo Coelho's Secret of Happiness. One of my favorite authors, Coelho colored my road with his message in The Alchemist, and the passage that follows explains what I hope you will all take as a truth to live by:

Excerpt from the Alchemist:

A merchant sent his son to learn the Secret of Happiness from the wisest of men. The young man wandered through the desert for forty days until he reached a beautiful castle at the top of a mountain. There lived the sage that the young man was looking for.

However, instead of finding a holy man, our hero entered a room and saw a great deal of activity; merchants coming and going, people chatting in the corners, a small orchestra playing sweet melodies, and there was a table laden with the most delectable dishes of that part of the world.

The wise man talked to everybody, and the young man had to wait for two hours until it was time for his audience.

The Sage listened attentively to the reason for the boy’s visit, but told him that at that moment he did not have the time to explain to him the Secret of Happiness.

He suggested that the young man take a stroll around his palace and come back in two hours’ time.

“However, I want to ask you a favor,” he added, handling the boy a teaspoon, in which he poured two drops of oil. “While you walk, carry this spoon and don’t let the oil spill.”

The young man began to climb up and down the palace staircases, always keeping his eyes fixed on the spoon. At the end of two hours he returned to the presence of the wise man.

“So,” asked the sage, “did you see the Persian tapestries hanging in my dining room? Did you see the garden that the Master of Gardeners took ten years to create? Did you notice the beautiful parchments in my library?”

Embarrassed, the young man confessed that he had seen nothing. His only concern was not to spill the drops of oil that the wise man had entrusted to him.

“So, go back and see the wonders of my world,” said the wise man. “You can’t trust a man if you don’t know his house.”

Now more at ease, the young man took the spoon and strolled again through the palace, this time paying attention to all the works of art that hung from the ceiling and walls.
He saw the gardens, the mountains all around the palace, the delicacy of the flowers, the taste with which each work of art was placed in its niche. Returning to the sage, he reported in detail all that he had seen.

“But where are the two drops of oil that I entrusted to you?” asked the sage.

Looking down at the spoon, the young man realized that he had spilled the oil.

“Well, that is the only advice I have to give you,” said the sage of sages.
“The Secret of Happiness lies in looking at all the wonders of the world and never forgetting the two drops of oil in the spoon.”

Santiago, a model city in Latin America

It has been just over a month since I came down to Santiago for work. A city flourishing with extinct ideaology - producing an air you don't really get to breathe in other parts of our querida Latin America.

Santiagoans are warm, optimistic people, with pride for their advanced and stable society, product of a series of privatization reforms by the Chicago Boys and a desire to progress by its people. They're extremely welcoming of foreigners: I will never forget the day a public bus driver, having finished his shift and about to return the bus to the Centro, decided to drive 20 minutes in an empty bus through streets that didnt match his route to get me to a date I was late to, all because I was the new Venezolano in the city. Chile has proven to be an awakening experience of sorts, and every day, every step taken in its roads is a refreshing welcome back to the southern hemisphere.

I got here on December 11th, 2013, and a few days later attended the rally of Michelle Bachelet who had just been elected president. A historic event in a city full of history... I've created strong bonds with meaningful people, and set a footprint on the ground, one I plan to come back to once I move on, if I do.

There's much to write about, the things I've learned, the people I've met and the ideas I've brewed, but for now it will sufice to say that this is a new beginning.

[Post To Be Updated with Pictures]

Sukuk market to develop Africa

Traditional financings and dependence on commodity-fueled budgets will no longer cut it for the world's most rapidly growing frontier market. The world bank stipulates that ~US$93 billion will be required annually to meet Africa's infrastructure needs until 2020. That's just over US$650 billion dollars.

Sukuk issuances will play a big role going forward.

Nigeria and South Africa are at the forefront of financial reform in this regard.

Attached is a great article from Islamic Finance laying out the framework and developments: "Meeting Africa's infrastructure needs"

Click here to view article PDF!

Food for thought

We're always looking for great quotes... what we call food for thought. Hungry or not hungry, no matter the time, we always have appetite for some quotes. Just like food, they come in all sorts of flavors and for all sorts of moods, and we let them guide our lives sometimes.

I just heard Aaron Sorkin's commencement speech at Syracause, and this is what I've been chewing on for hours:

"Decisions are made by those who show up"

"The first one through the wall, always gets hurt"

"A small group of thoughtful can change the world. It's the only thing that has"

"Rehearsal is over"

"Baseball players dont have to see if they've hit a homerun, they can feel it"

"My friends... you ain't seen nothing yet"

Welcome to Nigeria!

One or more blogposts definitely coming soon 

Hoy recuerdo a mi abuela y amiga, Simi Levy de Akinin Z"L

Aunque vivo solo, pense no conocer la soledad. Este sentimiento de unidad separada, y digo este, asi como de cerca, porque lo llevo muy presente desde que ella se me fue.

Se me fue... una idea que no termino de procesar, y aun menos de apreciar. Egoista de mi parte, pensar o decir que a quien se le fue es a mi... Pero la verdad es que hasta el dia de hoy, mientras redactaba estas palabras, no me atrevi ni a pensarlo.

Al oir la noticia, en lo primero que pense fue en como le diria a mi padre, pues para mi, el dolor de su partida, se multiplicaba con el dolor que llevase mi propio padre por dentro.

Llame a mi hermano Abraham a darle la noticia primero, porque es el quien en momentos de la mas grande incertidumbre tiene la calma y cordura para aconsejar.

Me dijo: yo lo llamo, tu no te tienes que preocupar.

Le respondi: De ninguna manera... no me puedo esconder, y a parte siento un deber muy profundo de decirle todo lo que ella sentia y pensaba de el.

Convencido mi hermano de haberme ya calmado, me dejo ir y procedi en darle la noticia a mi padre. Ya le habian dado la noticia, pero al hablar con el, le saque un llanto y senti a traves de el su pena y tristeza, a la vez que un orgullo eterno de haber sido hijo de aquella Simi, aquella Simcha...

Pase el resto del dia haciendo llamadas y mandando mensajes. Por casualidad mi hermano Samuel recien aterrizaba en NYC y pense fuera maniobra de la abuela traermelo a mi lado para recordarla a nuestra manera, en union, como ella siempre me pedia que estuvieramos.

Al recojer a mi hermano, le di la noticia y recibi su llorar. Lo console y le dije todo lo que la abuela Simi de el pensaba y esperaba.

Senti en ese momento un deber de contar todo lo que ella sentia por cada uno de ustedes en la privacidad que cada uno se lo merecia.

Hice eso con mi tio Samy, quien tuvo la bendicion de no solo ser su hijo, sino de tambien cumplir aquel mandamientos de nuestro D-os al pie de la letra. Samy era la luz de la abuela dia a dia, y asegurarse que tuviese salud, alegria y ese carisma tan especial era su peso de dia a dia.

Hice eso con mi prima Debbie y su hermano David; con mi tia Esther, quien sabe hoy en dia todo el amor que me atrevo a recontar sentia la abuela por ella. Lo hice con Moises y Leon... Contacte a David, y a Leon tambien. Fueran llamadas muy emotivas, en especial la ultima.

Hasta hace un par de horas no me logre contactar a mi mismo para decirme lo que yo debia saber. Perdonenme que los use... Que use esta cena como objeto del desahogo, pero Debbie y Natalie bellas, hoy me compre un vuelo al ultimo minuto porque necesitaba verlos a ustedes, quienes muchos fueron creados en su imagen (la de la abuela)... y aprovecho la oportunidad para finalmente sacarme esto que llevo en el pecho.

Nabuacina... esa frase que ella decia... o sera "la buena anciana".. Imposible! Pues anciana no era en espiritu ni vida; ella soñaba con que yo siempre le llevase dos años de edad y fueramos compinches. Abuela, eras mi compinche en este mundo y fuera.

No se a que edad la abuela Simi y yo nos acercamos tanto, pero bendigo el momento en el que D-os me dio la madurez de entender el valor de esa persona, y el inmenso valor de familia que me inspiro a quererla y protegerla.

No llegue a amar a nadie tan cerca fuera de mis padres, quien hasta el dia de hoy no compiten, sino reflejan lo que yo tenia con mi abuela. No se como llamarlo: un privilegio? un honor?

Tengo por lo menos diez años pensando que se me acaba el tiempo y que pronto no iba a poder saber mas sobre ella y las diez preguntas que tenia en ese momento quedarian sin respuesta.

Ha.

10 preguntas... 10 preguntas nuevas surgian por cada respuesta que ella daba, y en un par de meses me di cuenta que aquella persona a la cual yo me esperaba acercar, ahora era mi mejor amiga.

Ella por mucho tiempo pensaba que yo era un buen nieto, pues la llamaba, y quizas por todo ese tiempo pense yo lo hacia por deber.

Cuando me fui a la universidad, el poder del pensamiento, la ambicion, la falta de familia y novia, me presentaron una nueva carta: la soledad. Pero nunca la tome; jamas llego a mi mano esa carta. Mi abuela Simi estaba mas cerca que cualquier otra cosa. Ella no mandaba texts, emails, y no tenia facebook. Ni hablar de mi amigo Google, al que ella me encomendaba le mandara preguntas importantes de vez en vez.

El tio Samy me la puso como dirian unos amigos Venezolanos emprendedores, DeBombita... a una llamada - 10 numeros - de distancia. Mi relacion con ella crecio, fue muy grande, pues no perdiamos tiempo en texts y otros mensajitos; nos llamabamos y nos lo deciamos.

Podria quedarme una semana redactando esta carta. La abuela era mi consejera principal, estratega, coach, amiga, mejor amiga. Me ayudaba a resolver problemas tontos, de los cuales nadie queria oir. Al principio la llamaba a ella para distraerla, y despues de ver los resultados, su audacia, capacidad y bondad... no le perdone una.

La pobre... lidio con todos mis problemas. Le debo haber preguntado mas de lo que mi cuota me daba.
-Como estudiar para aquel examen?
-Como responder el text de esa chama?
-Como sacar un sosten con una mano?
-Como aconsejar a mis hermanos sin imponer?
-Como caminar hacia adelante sin pisar al que tiene la delantera?
-Como estructurar un bono sin tener que explicarle lo que era un bono?
-Como ganarme de vuelta a un amigo que recien habia perdido?
-Como olvidar a una mujer?
-Como olvidar a la siguiente mujer?
-Como soñar?
-Como pensar?
-Como amar?
-Como ser nieto?
y mas aun, -Como ser quien soy hoy?

No habia algo que yo le pidiese que no fuera para ella una prioridad. Lo mas arrecho es que quien le pidiese algo al mismo tiempo, se iria con aquel sentimiento de que le hubiese dado prioridad tambien.

Tres cosas quiero dejar en esta mesa, pues el resto es uno de los teosoros mas bellos que herede, y por lastima algo que solo en mi queda, y eso es todo lo que aprendi de ella.

1) Mi viaje a Las Vegas con la abuela fue muy especial. Conoci a la abuela 30 años mas joven. Soñadora y amante de la vida. Me deje conocer de muchas maneras con ella aquel Marzo 2010. Hasta desnudo le toco verme la noche que fuimos de fiesta, y me dijo en ingles "what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas" y yo le respondi, "Jamas! It stays with us"... Que honor.

2) Una de las ultimas enseñanzas que me dejo, la comparto. Este es el caso: la llame seis o siete veces con el mismo problema, y me dijo que me llamaria una vez que lo piense bien ella. Resulta que por mi edad y relacion con mis hermanos menores, senti la respondabilidad de ayudarlos en los estudios, vida personal, etc.Le conte que no estaba siendo muy eficiente. Le explique que yo sonaba como un criticon.

Me explico que a pesar de la edad que uno tenga, jamas podras justificar el criticar, y mucho menos el decir "que" y "como" hacer algo a alguien que tiene otro cerebro y corazon.

D-os le dio a cada uno una neshama (alma, en hebreo) y una caja de herramientas (todas distinantas) entre personas, para tomar decisiones y pintar sus propios cuadros.

Si, me explico, cada uno pintara un cuadro. Pero te imaginas decirle a Salvador Dali que sus relojes se veian mal porque estaban tuertos, o peor aun decirle a Botero que sus personajes estaban mal porque eran gordos.

Fijense que no usaba ni mi ejemplo, para no criticarme. Aplicaba lo que decia.

La abuela me enseño que uno solo ayuda al projimo con sus propios ejemplos y experiencia, y esperaria que con estos, el solo reformara su propio caracter y ambicion - lo que a la persona mas le plasca. Su vida es su vida, y esa es la prioridad.

Me dijo "ve y dile a Botero no cuan gorda se ve su escultura, sino como a ti sin querer te salio gorda la tuya, y lo que hiciste para arreglarla, o llamalo cuando no te salga gorda y muestrasela, inspiralo".

No creo que logres mucho, me dijo, criticandole su arte. Al fin del dia mira lo famoso que se ha hecho Botero haciendo circulos, en vez de lineas rectas.

Por ultimo, quiero recordad a la abuela por su sencillez, pero alto nivel de clase. No hace falta mas explicacion.

En todo eso cabe lo humilde que era... Como me sorprendia cuando al darte una idea multimillonaria, o resolver un problema que ni McKinsey, respondia con el "si yo solo fui al colegio hasta segundo grade..."

Pfffff. Con el respeto de los aqui presentes, mi abuela fue de las mujeres mas inteligentes y bondadozas que yo tuve el placer de conocer, y mas alla aun de llamar amiga.

Creo en D-os, porque lo vi responder mis plegarias cuando hace un año pense se me iba... Me mordi el labio en ese entonces, y me jale los pelos. Me llame idiota por no haber cubierto mas temas o haber llamado mas veces, pero otro año me dio... y ahora si, la llamaba dos o tres veces por dia.

Que egoista sueno, pero me dio una segunda oportunidad. Y ahora en todo lo que puedo pensar es cuan corta fue, pero cuan agradecido.

La abuela estaba en ese hospital hace un año y en plena terapia intensiva el doctor le dije a las enfermeras que "la señora ya habia fallecido"... la abuela viva pero semi-inconciente, se revolvia por dentro, hasta que despues de un minito hizo un tremendo esfuerzo, levanto la cabeza, y pego un mini grito "estoy viva". A lo que el doctor respondio a las enfermeras, mientras apuntaba hacia la abuela "Y esa otra señora debe tener fiebre". Resulta que aquella señora fallecida a la cual el doctor se referia no era la abuela, sino su vecina de cuarto. Imaginense cuan fuerte era su deseo de vida, de estar ahi para y con nostros.

En mi vives siempre, Simi.

David Akinin (06/21/2013)

Simi Levy de Akinin fallecio en Caracas,Venezuela el 18 de Mayo del 2013.