In the past month, my emotions have run to extremes! It's a wonderment that I haven't exploded ... no words describe the intensity!
January 11, 2016 I wrote the following tribute to my love:
Last night, the love
of my life for 39 years went home.
The medical community was told by her she wanted no heroics. The
regimen prescribed would have been another course of torture that neither she
or I wanted.
If all had gone well it might have purchased a year or two of
being on this Earth. But at what price? Jill knew the price. She was now paying
for an extended life from 34 years ago ... from radiation treatments that said
the bill was due.
We had 39 years! We were aware when we married that obstacles
lie ahead. In our youth we thought we would always win. Youth ... love the
determination which it inspires. We grabbed hold of it and ran.
Loved my life with you Jill !!!!
I've never met a stronger person!
Cancer survivor x 3. Bone marrows handled with no anesthesia ...
white knuckled it (lidocaine wouldn't work with her system). Chemotherapy that
was in the Pliestocene era ... MOPP... the first ingredient was mustard gas (of concentration camp fame); followed by full
body radiation 4800 RADS front and back. After a colonoscopy ... a systemic
E-coli infection that shut down her only kidney, resulted in 7 weeks of
dialysis ... when miraculously the kidney sprung to life. Heparin -induced
thrombocytopenia derived from having done research on the original
Lovenox in the 1970's. So many surgeries I can't even count. I'm sure I'm forgetting a
lot!
She made that sacrifice to live with me. Is there a higher
honor?
I think not!
I will cherish her always! Ever since I would drive into town
and she would be waiting on the front steps of her apartment for me to arrive.
No one ever did that before. I'm the one who won a prize ... not her.
There was not a selfish bone in her body, whereas I have several
of those I'm ashamed to admit. She would give anyone in need what they needed,
with no expectations! That people ... is rare!!
The very first time she had a NDE (near death experience) was
when we were first married. I was in an adjoining ER room and they were coding
her. She told me afterwards she didn't feel a thing while watching the medical
team's efforts on her detached body. She totally described the event in detail,
including what I was doing in that makeshift waiting room.
When I got back to the hospital last night, she was not in her
body. She was about 4 feet above and to the left of her bed. I watched that
space knowing where she was and said, " If you've had enough, you are in
control. I will be all right. You have members of your soul group waiting for
your arrival who are going to be excited to see you. You do not have to endure
any more of this Earthly life. You have earned rejoining our friends ("light
beings" to some).
We had moved to the ICU room where the medical team was going to
try an intubation that Jill had consented to at the last moment of
conscientiousness. I watched the EKG and her heart rate space further and further apart ... finally to straight line. Jill was still up
to the left of the bed about 4 feet above us. I looked in her direction.
"OK" , I said "I'll be all right ... you are free. Go to the
Light!" She was gone. I felt her leave. She needed me to say "I'll be
all right". I turned to the medical team and said, "Call it!"
They heeded my wishes and were more than professional ... extremely caring !!
Jill you were a gift I'll never forget! Someone who I didn't
deserve, but chose me anyway!
I'll always love you, and will see you again!
Enjoy your freedom ... you have earned so much more!!!
Love ya,
Bob
The outpouring of love from friends all over the world, humbles this old man to the core. I do not know what to say but "Thank you" ... and that comes from the soul!
My wife's journey continues anew !
++++++++
My Earthly journey astounds me every minute ... the following sums up a wondrous time from the past merging seamlessly with the present and future...
In a land far away there lived a Dogon.
Not an ordinary Dogon by any means. A Dogon who took a naive "tubabu" from America and immersed him totally within his personal family! That was 1972 in Bamako, Mali, West Africa.
The story, however, started much much earlier .
As a young boy I would inhabit the internet of the day. It was called a "Library". There I traveled to far away worlds in the blink of an eye, but I was always drawn to Africa. The Dogon tribe grabbed my attention.
They lived at the base of the Cliffs of Bandiagara, a 120 km escarpment in the eastern plains of Mali. Houses were made of adobe, and the yards were laced with square granaries with thatched roofs.
Often I could see myself hiking through such a village, imagining what it would be like.
Fast forward to 1972.
After graduating from college with a degree in Agriculture from The Ohio State University I was planning on going into the Peace Corps. In the seventh grade, reading the "Weekly Reader" in geography class, I saw where President Kennedy started , "The Peace Corps". My thoughts were pure romance, as I imagined myself being one of the lucky people chosen to go!
At OSU I was in their intern program (with Peace Corps) to go to India. Enter the India/Pakistani War. The USA backed Pakistan, and all Peace Corps were removed from India.
OSU picked up Tunisa as an intern program. It was Africa, but not black africa. It was especially not Dogon territory.
I've always been fairly successful, it seems, of creating my own reality.
I threw my application into the general Peace Corps pool. Most people only had one offer. How lucky was I to have two. Especially when I got my invitation shortly thereafter to Mali ... where the Dogons live!!! Receiving an offer to the very country I wanted to visit as a child was truly mindblowing!
Training "in-country" had just come into being and in July of 1972 I found myself in Bamako, Mali!
After several weeks of training, we dispersed to our areas of work ... all over Mali. I was to remain in Bamako working out of the Centre d'Avicole in Sotuba at a hatchery built by USAID.
My Malien Counterpart was a 55 year old man, Hassane Togo, who everyone just called "Togo".
Togo, it turns out ... was a "Dogon"!
As extension agents, Togo and I would go out and visit poultry farms all around the Bamako area in a radius of about 100 km. As a friend Togo and I quickly "bonded" as they say now. I was accepted into The Familiae "Togo" like I was a full member. For 2 and 1/2 years I was blessed to immerse into their personal environment. To enjoy the company of a family that exuded such warmth, perseverence, and knowledge of Life ... they taught me (it wasn't the other way around).
A typical day would have Togo and three of his boys, Ali (almost always went with us), Adama and Alou, accompany us on our poultry farm visits. The boys would catch chickens so Togo and I could vaccinate them. When I started in 1972 we had 42 poultry farms. When I left at the end of 1974 we had 172. We were busy.
In the summer of 1973 three soft ice cream machines appeared in front of 3 restaurants in downtown Bamako. Togo's children had never known ice cream. I would pile as many of the young ones into my Trois Chavaux (basically a tin can on wheels), and we'd head for an ice cream machine. Watching these kids experience ice cream for the first time was a huge joy! Togo however was not so joyful. He'd say, "M. Bob" I wish you wouldn't do that." I said, "Togo, I'm paying for it! Don't worry." "But I am worried," he'd say,"eventually you will be going back to America!" He had a point, but it did not stop me!
As my turn of service was coming to a close at the end of 1974, the monsoon rains continued heavy for three days. Togo told me it was going to be bad news for the adobe houses. Sure enough, instead of going to poultry farms that next morning we went to Togo's brother's compound. The rains had demolished everything they owned. Togo had 12 children. Togo's brother had 12 children. I moved in with an Englishman friend, and took all my furniture and house supplies to Togo's house. Togo moved all the children to his house ... a three room cement block house with a tin roof in Sotuba. Twenty four children would be housed there until his brother's compound could be rebuilt. The family bond was unbelieveable.
Soon my time in Mali was up and I went to England for a couple of months, then back to the USA. In 1977 I met Jill and we married. I wrote to Togo occasionally, and he'd write back. In 1988 I sent him a long letter with pictures of me and Jill. He replied, but it was the last I ever heard from him. I asked a great Peace Corps friend Bill Schweighofer how often he would think of Mali? He replied, "About once a day". Here we both were 11 years removed from Mali, West Africa, and it was still on our minds! Daily!
Jill and I spent the 39 years of marriage in and out of the hospital, but it wasn't always tough times. An RV helped us get out and visit much of the American West. And we made 20+ trips to Yellowstone ... our favorite place. Jill was my animal spotter for my photography efforts. I often wondered what had happened to Togo and my family in the Sahel. Jill couldn't survive a trip to Africa, and I couldn't leave her for such a venture.
Spring forward to January 2014!
I came home from work and the answering machine was blinking. The message said, "My name is Nolan Love. I am a returned PC volunteer from Guinea (it neighbors Mali) stationed there in 1996. If you are the Robert H Dunn from Bamako, Mali in 1972, I have someone who has been searching for you for 20 years. If that person is you, and you are interested, call me and I'll make connections!". Of course I immediately called Nolan. What a tremendous individual!!!
Nolan was visting friends in NYC and walked into a comedy club. An attendant there had a West African accent. Nolan immediately went over and started talking French. When the West African asked, "How is it you speak French?" Nolan said he was in the Peace Corps in Guinea in 1996. With hearing the
words "Peace Corps", the West African said, "Do you know M. Bob Dunn?" Nolan said that he did not. The West African showed him pictures I had sent to his father "Togo" in 1988.
"I've been looking for him for 20 years!"said the West African. Nolan said, "If you've been looking for him for 20 years ... I'll help you find him!" What a chance meeting! Or was it ... definitely it was meant to be!
The next morning I called Ali (who was 11 years old the last time I saw him 40 years ago). He was hysterical, "I've found M. Bob!" He'd repeat over and over. He had me talk with all his family, and I heard him call his mother Madame Togo who was still alive in Mali on his cellphone telling her "I've found M. Bob"! Ali Togo had come to NYC in 1994. He married a West African woman from the Ivory Coast he had met in NYC and they have 5 children. We talked about getting together. It seemed like we could do this soon.
However two years passed and Ali and his family never met "Aunt Jill".
Monday February 1st I picked up Ali and his wife at the airport. We reconnected after 42 years ... that's 42 years folks!... not a misprint! We spent 3 great days together and that's not the end of the story.
Three years ago I found Greg Polk. Greg and I were both in Mali in 1973 together. In fact we both were medivac'd to Germany to a US Army hospital for treatment. We spent two months in Germany, then back to Mali. Greg it turns out was living in Corrales, NM only about 8 miles from me for the past 5 years. Often however he was overseas. Ironically his wife, a USAID official, was stationed in Mali in 2012, and Greg was with her for about a year and a half until the latest coup de taut sent all Americans home. His wife then took a post in Cambodia. Greg and I would meet and have lunch and talk about old times when he was home in Corrales.
In 2015, Greg went back to Mali for 5 months with PC again. I txt'd him that when he'd go to Bamako, if he'd look up Madame Togo who was still alive (85 years of age). He contacted the Family Togo and they all met one day in early 2015. Apparently they laughed a lot about the exploits of Togo and M. Bob! It was great Greg was able to be my emissary to Madame Togo as she passed later in the year.
Greg came back to Corrales, New Mexico a week ago after spending 5 months in India retracing Gandhi's Salt March. Tuesday Feb 02,2016 Greg joined Ali & his wife and I in my kitchen to continue the reunion. Ali would call family members in Mali on speaker phone and we'd rehash old times. Nolan Love joined in by phone too.
Often several languages made this possible ...English, French and Bambara.
I took Ali and his wife back to the Airport in the afternoon on Wednesday 02/03/2016.
I told Ali your gift to me was coming to see me so soon after Aunt Jill passed and I am so honored. My gift to you is, "I'm giving you your plane tickets!" Ali was speechless. His wife said, "No, Bob!" I said, "You both did this for me. You both work hard jobs and have 5 children...and you live in NYC. I have no children ... this makes perfect sense." Tears were running from both of our eyes. We both were so happy this reunion took place!
My life again is a gem ... first knowing Jill and
In a land far away there lived a Dogon!
Peace,
Bob
