Thinking About My Sisters in Malaysia

In 2004 I went to Malaysia to deliver a paper at the Asia Region United Nations Conference on the Family. The day before the conference began the Malaysian government took us on a tour of the capitol city, Kuala Lumpur. The architecture fascinated me—so many buildings with wings and towers and intricate wood carvings. And the food! I am a vegetarian and the variety of vegetables and the delicious ways they were cooked was mind boggling. I thought I’d died and gone to heaven! One of the sites they took us to was the Batu Caves where we hiked 272 steep stairs to a beautiful Hindu shrine. Along the way monkeys scurried across our path and swung in the lush trees that lined the stairs all the time laughing at us as we trudged by. I fell in love with the country.

But the thing I remember most about the trip happened the next day at the conference which was held in a beautiful five star hotel. Women from Malaysia had been invited to set up kiosks in the area outside the conference rooms to sell their wares. Between sessions I walked out to admire jewelry at one of the kiosks. Now you have to realize that I stood out like a giraffe in a horse stable. I didn’t speak the language. I am tall and none of the local women came above my shoulders. Besides that I am fair skinned and blond and they were all darker. If that weren’t enough, they all wore beautiful scarves held in place with delicate brooches and I was bare headed.

The kiosk consisted of three display cases each about eight feet long and set in a U shape against a wall so that it formed a square with the workers in the center. I was at the end—facing the wall—looking at various pieces of costume jewelry and suddenly became aware that the other women gathered at the kiosk, about three or four at each side display, were watching me. I couldn’t understand what they were saying, but as they whispered and pointed I could tell I was the topic of conversation. Curious, I watched from the corner of my eye as they slowly  inched toward me until they were as close as they could get. Then with one big giggle they began trying jewelry on me! They’d hold a brooch next to my jacket and ohh and aww and giggle and nod. Then someone else would hold ear rings against my ears and even though I didn’t understand the language, I understood when they approved and when they didn’t. They draped necklaces on my shoulders and without words asked if I liked them. They held a mirror up for me to see and waited for my reaction. At first it startled me, but I suddenly realized that they wanted to communicate with me—a strange, light skinned giant from another world, but a woman like them. They wanted to let me know they liked me and cared. This was their way of breaking through the language barrier.

It was an amazing few moments of love and delight. I ended up buying a ring, a necklace and a brooch simply because I wanted something that would reminded me of that moment forever. I hardly ever wear the jewelry, but it is in my jewelry box so that every day when I take out my wedding ring and every night when put my ring away, I see the jewelry and remember my sisters in Malaysia who without words told me they loved me.

It's Official! I'm An Honorary Southern Belle

I’m home. My trip to South Carolina was a dream. Everything you’ve ever heard about Southern hospitality is understated! I was treated like royalty and loved every minute of it. I spoke on Saturday morning to a warm, loving chapel full of sisters. Afterward they served a delicious turkey dinner and gave me a beautiful palmetto bag monogrammed with my initials and a brass palmetto welcome sign. (If you don’t know the significance of the Palmetto, check this out. Very interesting!)

After the conference my daughter drove me by the Columbia temple. It is small and secluded—a haven nestled in a forest. That afternoon six of the sisters, Cookie, Sue, TeLene, Laresa, Marie, and the hostess Cyndy had planned a surprise for me—a Southern Tea Party (herbal tea, of course!) A beautifully set table greeted me and all the trimmings of an English Tea—the sandwiches, scones, and sweets—but with a Southern flair that included pecans (that’s PEE-cans in South Carolina) and everything else that is good. The highlight came when they made me an honorary Southern Belle. To do that they instructed me in the nuances of “Southern Speech.” I learned how to properly tell someone that something isn’t going to happen. You say (making every vowel into two sounds) “That old dawg won’t hunt no more.” I learned that when addressing a group you don’t say “ya’ll.” Instead you say, “All ya’ll.” I learned how to properly use “reckon,” “fetchin’,” “fixin’ to,” “awfullest,” and a new sense of the word “best”—as in “You best not do that again!”

After being properly instructed, I was tested and required to repeat back three things I had learned. I am proud to say I passed the test and was presented a beautiful Palmetto pin and proclaimed an Honorary Southern Belle. I proudly wore my pin today!

The next day, Sunday, I attended the Camden Ward and again was overwhelmed with love. Then in the afternoon Laresa took me to a friend’s house, or rather I should say mansion. Holly Hedge House was built in 1842 and has been lived in since it was built. Originally it was a 600 acre plantation headed by a sprawling three story main house with wide inviting porches everywhere. Behind the main house stands the kitchen house—a two story building (much larger than my home) that housed the kitchen, butler’s pantry and a huge great room that doubled as dining room (you could easily feed 85 to 90 people in there) or a ball room. Originally the downstairs housed the household slaves. It is now bedrooms and a beautiful pool room. I can’t begin to describe how magnificent! But the magic came from stepping back in time. This wasn’t a museum with roped off rooms—this was a lived in, beautifully preserved, vintage home emanating personality from every nook and corner. Its charm gathered me into its secrets so completely that I was surprised when I passed a mirror to discover that I wasn’t wearing a hoop skirt with layers of rustling petticoats.

This is only a bit of all that happened. I’m still floating! Why, I had such a fetchin’ good time I’ve a mind to go back dreckly!