The Moth - The Moth Radio Hour: Occasional Magic

Episode Date: August 8, 2023

In this hour, stories of moments of beauty, awe, and clarity uncovered amidst chaos and the quotidian. Hosted by the Moth's Artistic Director Catherine Burns. The Moth Radio Hour is produced by The Moth and Jay Allison of Atlantic Public Media. Storytellers: Edgar Oliver propagates monsters in his backyard. Chenjerai Kumanyika seeks protection through tradition and faith. Matt McArthur witnesses rare beauty during an Arctic dive. Sofija Stefonovic gets her first taste of capitalism.

This is the Moth Radio Hour from PRX. I'm Katherine Burns and this time we're going to hear about occasional magic. Those moments of wonder and clarity that we sometimes stumble upon in life. We're just going along the day-to-day, my year-on-business, and then bam! Suddenly something happens, and we discover a piece of truth in our lives. These moments often sneak up on me, and I can miss them entirely if I'm not paying attention. Magica's definitely a play in our first story, told by Chintarai Kumanika. He told the story of the

moth event we produced in Las Vegas, who are partnered with Nevada Public Radio and the Black Mountain Institute. Here's Chingerai Kumanieka live at the moth. So I was at this family barbecue, earlier this summer, you know, I don't know if y'all go to black family barbecue, it because frankly Beverly maize is playing. I was eating a second plate of mac and cheese. I promised myself I wouldn't eat. You know, and I was doing some card tricks for my seven-year-old nephew, Jonathan. And after a couple of tricks, you know, Jonathan looks up at me and he kind of goes, you know, how did you do it? How did it work?

And I was like, ah, you know, it's magic. You know, he got excited. He's like, oh, magic. You know, he kept asking me. I'm doing more tricks. He kept asking me, right? And then, you know, for some reason, I started to think, well, maybe he's asking me something bigger than the card trick. I was projecting, right? I mean, you know, that's...

And so, like, for some reason, I went way too dark on this, right? I started saying, hmm, this kid's got to know, this is the time for this seven-year-old kid to understand, like this is a trick. So I was like, I called him, you know, I was like, I showed him how the trick worked, right? And then I was like, look, man, you know, this is a trick, man, but you, you know, you got to deal with reality. You know, you just saw like a seven year old face just drop and I knew that I had failed as an adult human. You know, I had told him that there was no magic. And it's funny that I would be the one to deliver that, because my own relationship to this question is much more complicated. You see, when I was about 13, my aunt went to go live in Senegal,

and she invited me to come stay with her for a month or so over the summer. Now, like a lot of African-Americans, I don't really know exactly where my ancestry is from, but I'd never been out of the country. So it was so exciting to go to Africa, right? And when I landed in Dakar, it was like everything was new. I mean, I'm talking about like just the go get some bread

from the store was like an adventure, right? You know, it's like, you see, everything, new buildings, new languages and smells. And my aunt was gonna be really busy while I was there. So she hired a guy to kind of look out for me. And his name was Ron. He's about 30 years old. And he was a chaperun.

So during the time I was there, Ron was like my big brother. He told me about his life. I mean, not just in Dakar, just as an older man. And I told him about my life. I mean, not just in Dakar, right? Just as an older man. And I told him about my life, because you know, things were starting to change a little bit, you know? I was coming to terms with what it meant to be a guy and this black male body that looked tough, but I had the heart of like a podcaster,

like a Lord of the Rings, you know, a fan or something. I mean, I was like a podcaster like a Lord of the Rings Fang or something I'd be I would You know and That you know I was trying to also figure out how it would make decisions could I trust myself? You know, I mean my parents had done a pretty good job of sheltering me from the ugliest parts of life But I was living in Baltimore in the 1980s and it felt like the danger could walk right up to your door I told him, I told him, I told him, I told him, I told him, I told him, I told him, I told him, I told him, I told him, I told him, I told him, I told him, I told him, I told him, I told him, I told him, I told him, I told him, I told him, I told him, I told him, I told him, I told him, I told him, I told him, I told him, I told him, I told him, I told him, I told him, I told him, I told him, I told him, I told him, I told him, I told him, I told him, I told him, I told him, I told him, I told him, I told him, I told him, I told him, I told him, I told him, I told him, I told him, I told him, I told him, I told him, I told him, I told him, I told him, I told him, I told him, I told him, I told him, I told him, I told him, I told him, I told him, I told him, I told him, I told him, I told him, I told him, I told him, I told him, I told him, I told him, I told him, I told him, I told him, I told him, I told him, I told him, I told him, I told him, I told him, I told him, I told him, I told him, I told him, I told him, I told him, I told him, I told him, I told him, I told him, I told him, I told him, I told him, I told him, I told him, I told him, I told him, I told him, I told him, I told him, I told him, I told him, I told him, I told him, I told him, I told him, I told him, I told him, I told him, I told him, and some even had guns. Ron was like horrified, right? This wasn't the America that he knew about. And he wanted to get some protection for me. So Ron knew of this elder who was skilled in making

certain special talismans that could actually protect you from guns and knives. And he wanted, he's like, you know, people in Senegal have these things. And he wanted to get one for his African-American little brother to protect me from the violence of America. So the next morning we found ourselves on a bus going out to the outskirts of Dakar.

We got off the bus and walked into this small white house. When I walked in, I met this elder, I was instructed to go into the bathroom by myself, take a bath, I put met this elder, I was instructed to go into the bathroom by myself, take a bath, I put on this robe, and when I came out, they handed me this white towel and it was filled with this little black powder. And Ron and I took that towel to a local tailor and had it sewn into an animal skin belt. And I remember when it was done just holding it in my hands, feeling its power like, yeah, now I'm going to be protected. But then Ron told me there was a catch.

He goes, in order for this belt to work, you have to believe in it. And in order for you to believe in it, we got to go back to the heel to the elder. You gotta put the bell on, and then, I'm gonna have to shoot you. What, Ron? Little brother, no, I would never buy one with you in a harm's way. Look, I know what you're thinking, right? Like this is supposed to be a real easy decision for me, right?

I mean, I wasn't the most tree savvy kid, but I did know rule number one. Don't let me know. I'm gonna be the one who's gonna be the one who's gonna be the one I know what you're thinking, right? Like this supposed to be a real easy decision for me, right? I mean, I wasn't the most street savvy kid, but I did know rule number one. Don't let people shoot you. Even if they ask nicely. But, you know, I wanted that belt to work too, right?

I mean, can you imagine going back as a kid to Baltimore with this belt? You know, that was like some Marvel comic type stuff. I was like, what did that to work? And then, also, why was Ron doing this? Like, Ron knew my hunt. You know, I mean, that must be, I was going on. I didn't understand.

And I thought it about it over and over. And I was like, I just picture myself looking down the barrel of a gun while Ron shot and I was like, hell, no, I can't do that. I can't do it. A toe Ron, he was disappointed and we went back to the car. At this point I made an executive decision not to tell my aunt that the shaperone she had hired just asked if he could shoot me. But you know, I did want to know like what, what my eye thought, because my eye was like a real no nonsense person.

So, I was like, surely should validate my responsible choice here. So, I asked her, hey, auntie, like, what do you think about talismans? They're like, those kind of like, you know, she said, well, actually, I think they work, but only if you believe in them. That's not a man. So I went back to, after the summer's over, I went back to Baltimore. And I kept this belt, you know?

And as I would, for some reason, I held on to it, even as I got older, right? Moving from house to house. Sometimes I would put it on, you know? Look in the mirror, and I would just wonder if it works. You know, it was really frustrating, you know? Because I kind of felt like I had just missed this chance to know, should I have trusted Ron?

Should I have trusted myself? I would never know. A couple of years later, my aunt went back to Africa this time to Ghana to live for a couple years. And once again, she invited me to come stay with her. This time, we were in Ghana and I was spent a lot of time with a friend of mine named Kwabana. And you know, Ghana was a very religious place, but Kwabana could never quite figure out what my religion was, right? He was, you know, all he knew was I had long dreadlocks and I didn't eat meat.

So he was like, he just decided I was a rasta, you know. A pure rasta, that's what he used to call me. He would yell at anybody trying to give me meat. He's a pure rasta, leave him alone. You know, but, you know, Coabinah got closer Leave him alone. Leave him alone. Leave him alone. Leave him alone. Leave him alone. Leave him alone. But, you know, Quabinai got closer and I wanted Quabinai to know, like that wasn't really the whole story. So I told him, I said, Quabinai, I respect the Rastafar and tradition, I really do, but

I'm not a Rastafar. And he was like, what are you? Are you a Christian? He was a Muslim, right? So he was like, you know, are you a Muslim like me? I was like, no. He said, what is it? I said, well, I kind of respect traditional African religions

because I feel like that's what was taken away from us. When I said that, Kwanba Nazaa has got real big. He was like, oh, you practice the traditional religion. He said, well, my family practices this religion too, right? I want to take you to my village and show you how it really goes down. So once again, I found myself on a bus. Early in the morning, headed to the outskirts of a West African town. And this time, on the bus, you know, a Quabinas telling me like, man, our families ways are a whole system, right?

It's not just tricks, but there are some things that to your eyes are going to seem like magic. We got off the bus. It was early in the morning, it was kind of dark. He said his grandfather had been the keeper of the family secrets, but his grandfather had passed the secrets down when he died to a young priest. And that was who we had to find.

But after walking from house to house and knocking on doors, we quickly learned that this isn't the kind of person that you find. He has to find you. And at 11 o'clock at night, we're in a bar pretty much having given up. And he found us. He walked in. He had an assistant with him. You know, when I was at that point, I was kind of like, I was a little bit real, I was like disappointed, but I was also kind

of relaxed because I hadn't known what was going to happen. You know, but then he walks in and I was like, oh shit, oh shit, right? And he's like, he says, you know, he comes in and he goes, look, I knew you were here the whole time. He told Kwab and I he had to verify that he was really family. And he verified that. He said, I heard about you too. And I did some divination. I have something I want to show both of you. And then we walked out of the bar.

And as we walked down like this long dirt road, because now it's night, it's dark. And his assistant stops at this little vendor and buys a machete. I was like, oh, that's interesting. We walk a little further and we stop outside of the ship and they explain that we're gonna go in that ship and there's gonna be an initiation and that initiation is gonna involve the machete. Then his assistance starts sharpening that machete. I don't know about y'all but some

about that metal scraping on metal like that just brings everything into focus. Right and I was I started thinking right I was like, okay you know he goes in the shed I'm like, I'm like on one hand I'm like man I'm like on one hand, I'm like, man, I'm like, I could die out here, right? But I also had spent all these years just wondering about the belt. And I was like, I'm here again. So I was like, I'm gonna go into shit. I can't tell you everything that happened inside this shit. But I'm gonna tell you a that happened inside this shit. But I'm going to tell you a couple of things that went down. First, there was some prayers made in the shed. Second, there

was a point where I was given a word by the young priest. And he told me that when I was ready, I should say the word. And then he was was gonna take that cold sharp blade of the machete and press it against my chest And then he would take a piece of wood and bang the machete You know really hard into my chest and that if I said the word it wouldn't cut And then He asked me if I was ready It's like I took a deep breath. Then I said, I'm ready.

And I said the word. And he put the machete, pressed it, right, I feel it, going into my skin, the sharp blade. And he pulled back. It seemed like a slow motion. Bang! Knocked it into my skin, the sharp blade, and he pulled back. It seemed like a slow motion. Bang! Knocked it into my chest. Bang!

Knocked it on the other side of my chest. Bang! He knocked it on my arm. Bang! On the other arm. And I looked at my arms, looked at my chest, and there were no cuts. So I made it out of that shit alive.

When I reflect back on that night, I don't feel like I'll ever fully understand totally what happened, especially because I'm a person who really believes in science. I believe in climate change, all that, epidemiology, everything. Disease, I really believe in that. But I had this experience that I can't explain.

And I also kind of want a do-over for what I told my nephew that day. He's not here right now, but I want to kind of pretend y'all are Jonathan. And here's what I would tell him if I had to talk to him right now. I would say Jonathan, listen, a lot of decisions you're going to have to make in life, the safe route is the best route to go. But there are going to be those moments when you've got to take that leap of faith because there is magic. And when the time is right, it'll find you.

Thank you very much. I'm Dr. Chintra Ay Kamenhika is a scholar, journalist, and artist who researches and teaches in the Department of Journalism at New York University. He is also the co-host, co-executive producer and co-creator of Gimlett Media's Peabody award-winning podcast Uncivil. And he's a collaborator for Scene on Radio's influential season two, Scene White, and season four on the history of American democracy. I first met Chinsri when he wrote an article at transum.org called Vocal Color in Public Radio.

The article later trended on Twitter and spawned a nationwide discussion about diversity in public media. If you'd like to read that article and see a picture of Chandra's famous belt from the story, go to themoth.org. Coming up, the watermelon seed spinning contest leads to trouble. And later, a scientist has a profound moment while scuba diving in Antarctica when the Moth Radio Hour continues. The Moth Radio Hour is produced by Atlantic Public Media in Woods Hole, Massachusetts, and presented by PRX.

This is the Moth Radio Hour from PRX. I'm Katherine Burns, and in this show, we're talking about experiencing moments of magic in our lives. Our next storyteller, Edgar Oliver, has been telling stories of the Moth for more than 20 years. He told this one in an evening we produced outside at night in the lovely Greenwood Cemetery in Brooklyn, New York. Greenwood is a nature preserve.

At one point, a red-tailed hawk actually flew across the stage and bats fluttered around overhead. There were rugs placed on the hills beside the stage and people sat on the graves listening to the stories. That might sound odd, but one of Greenwood Cemetery's motto is that Greenwood is a place that the dead create for the living, and their caretakers have been producing magical events inside the cemetery for more than a century.

Here's Edgar Oliver, live under the stars at Greenwood. And we're going to leave the intro in, so you can hear how host Tera Clancy introduced him. So I should just say this quickly. You may have noticed that I have an interesting voice. It used to not be very interesting, but now people like to comment on it and ask me about it and all this shit. Our final storyteller also has an interesting and wonderful voice. My voice is real. His voice is real. Please don't ask us if our voice is real.

Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome Edgar Oliver. I would like to tell you a story from my childhood. I grew up in Savannah, Georgia with my mother and my sister Helen in a house surrounded by beautiful old trees. One day I think I was ten, so Helen was 11. We were all three on the back porch eating watermelon. Helen and I were having fun spitting watermelon seeds over the railing. We grew inspired by the many watermelon seeds, and we began planting them all over the backyard, digging holes in the dirt with kitchen spoons, and then pouring in watermelon seeds, and then covering up the holes, thinking that in the fikund earth of Sivanah,

watermelons would sprout effortlessly, and that by the end of the summer there would be huge watermelons all over the backyard. We waited and waited, but at the end of the summer, to our great disappointment, no watermelons had sprouted. The next summer, we decided to set up one of those collapsible swimming pools. So we got one and we set it up in the backyard. This huge drum of corrugated iron that came up to hear on me, up to my neck, with a bottom of swimming pool blue rubber, and then we turned on the hose and began filling up the pool,

which took hours. We watched in fascination as the water rose. Filling the pool was probably the most satisfying thing about it. Before it was half full we jumped in and let the water rise around us. But after a few days we barely used the swimming pool. We were on the go in the car so much, driving to Hilton Head, or to the beach at Taipei, or to swim in the Oghichi River.

Sometimes we go downtown and get fried chicken at the Woolworths on Broughton Street and go with our sketch pads to the colonial sanitary to picnic atop the family vaults that were all shaped like gigantic brick bedsteads. Helen and I loved to climb on these strange bed-shaped vaults and lie on the gently curved bellies of the vaults and play at being dead. And while we played Mother sketched in her sketchpad, it was beautiful to lie there, feeling so alive, pretending to be dead. Meanwhile, the water in the swimming pool grew opaque, ink black, leaves and branches floated across its surface,

and God knows what lurked in its depths. It was more forbidden than a swamp. No one in their right mind would have gotten into it. It remained brimful as well, replenished by the summer's many rains. All through that summer, the pool exercised a strange fascination over the backyard. It was tall and mysterious. The rain went across it, and its mystery was stirred, and we wondered at its depths.

I would gaze at the black surface of the pool and imagine strange monsters lurking there, ghastly things. I know Helen did too. I know mother did too. Finally one day we destroyed the pool. We attacked it gleefully, bashing down its sides and watching in delight as the black water poured out in all directions. We kept waiting for monsters to be revealed.

I think we were all three convinced there was a human corpse hidden in those waters. But there was nothing in the pool. It was empty. But there was nothing in the pool. It was empty. But at the bottom of the pool, a mystery entirely unexpected awaited us. The rubber bottom of the pool, now black with sludge,

rose up in strange humps everywhere. There were things underneath the pool's bottom. What could these things be? The thought was horrifying. We all three grabbed the sides of the pool and began heaving it up, peeling it from the ground. What we saw was more horrifying than anything we could ever have imagined. There were watermelons everywhere, huge watermelons, but they were white, absolutely white, albino watermelons. The watermelons we had planted had been growing there, trapped under the swimming pool, trapped, growing blindly in the dark. Their whiteness was as horrible as the horror of their fate. We could not bring ourselves to touch them, and the thought of slicing one open to see what

it was like inside was unimaginable. How we got rid of them, I don't remember. Such was the fate of the Albino Waterless. That was Edgar Oliver. Edgar is a writer and performer who has lived and worked in New York City for many years. The New York Times lead theater critic Ben Brantley, called Edgar, a living work of theater all by himself. Not long ago Edgar appeared as a butler in a mattress ad, which also starred football legend

Tom Brady. You can find it by, well, googling Edgar Oliver and Tom Brady. It's a trip. I sit down with Edgar in the cemetery to talk about a story. You'll hear him mention Bond Adventure and he's referring to the famous Bond Adventure cemetery in Savannah, Georgia. I'm sitting here in the middle of Greenwood Cemetery in Brooklyn. It's about eight o'clock at night surrounded by beach trees and candles and graves and you know I love graveyards and I think you do too. What is it about graveyards that draw you in sweetie? Well I I love the solitude of graveyards. Yes, and

I know that you you lost mother when you were fairly young, right? Yeah, I was 26. Yes Mother was 62. She's how old I am now. Oh wow that's kind of haunting. Yeah. So is Mother in the graveyard somewhere Edgar? Well no. Well, a pair of mother is in Bonoventure. Some of Mother's ashes I buried enough on top of our father's grave in Bon Adventure. Some of Mother's ashes are in the glove compartment of Helen's car in Italy and then Helen's scattered some of Mother's ashes in Greenport and also some of Mother's ashes Helen scattered in Sicily. Oh beautiful. I love that your mother is for these part of her spending at least so far eternity in the glove compartment of Helen's car in

Italy because when I think of your mother I always of her as a driving. Mother loved to drive. She did, so that's why Helen decided to put some of Mother's ashes in the glove compartment of the car. It's perfect. Our interview was being recorded by our talented intern, Mia Figueroa, and she asked Edgar if he ever regretted not cutting open the watermelon. Opening the watermelons. Well, in retrospect, yes, it would be amazing to know whether they were red inside or not. But at the time, they just seemed so repulsive.

It would have been inconceivable to cut one of them open. But yes, I do very much wonder. That was Edgar Oliver. To see a photo of Edgar and his sister Helen is children, go to themoth.org. Next, we're going to go to one of our story slam competitions in Melbourne, Australia, where we partner with the Australian Broadcasting Corporation.

Here's Matt McArthur, live at the Moth. I'm standing beside a hole. And inside the hole, it's cold and dark and there's no air. A lifelong fascination with Antarctica and a love of working underwater have collided and I'm standing on the shores of Ross Island about as far south as you can go and still work as a marine biologist. I take my deep breath and step into the dark, cold, airless hull, and descend through three meters of sea ice and 12 meters of sea to begin my work on the sea floor. And my task ingroses me. I know what I'm doing, I'm calm,

so long as I don't think too much about where I am and what I'm doing, I stay calm. And then I feel a current go past, and it gives me a bit of a knock. And normally when I feel that I think shark, but I'm too far south for sharks, I'm too far south for Orca. It's cool. Nothing's going to eat me. I'm probably the biggest thing nearby and then I look up and there's a Waddel seal. I'm not the biggest thing nearby, the seal. I'm not the biggest thing nearby. The Adele seal is the biggest thing nearby.

400 kilograms of seal has just swam over the top of me. Under water, they look like a hot water cylinder, almost a perfect cylinder of blubbery meat. And they do this nit trick where they look at you over their back. I can't quite pull it off. Big, dark eyes to take advantage of what light is available and it watches me as I watch it.

And then it touches the sea floor. Now, we've brought our warmth and our oxygen to this spot by very different paths. Both in terms of what we did that morning to prepare for this dive that brought us together. And in terms of what we did that morning to prepare for this dive that brought us together. And in terms of the huge arc of evolutionary history that separates us all the way back to the last time our ancestors met.

But the seal and eye are watching each other and I don't think the seal is watching where it's going and it hits the sea floor. And the sea floor is covered in anchor ice. Now, we normally think of ice as floating, but anchor ice doesn't because it's anchored. Ice just forms wherever it's cold enough for ice to form and anchor ice forms on the rocks of the sea floor. And it is buoyant, it wants to float but it can't until it reaches a

size that it's able to loft the rock that it's attached to. So sometimes you've got a rock drifting past in the current or sometimes it'll peel up like an old carpet. But in this case it's been dislodged by the seal that wasn't watching where it was going. It was watching the monkey. Now, anchor ice forms incredibly beautiful interlocking plates and facets. They're very delicate, so as the seals hit it, this anchor ice has shattered and under its own buoyancy, it begins to rise, and it's rising in a shaft of light. The water that the seal and eye are diving in is almost optically pure. It's probably the clearest water on earth, and you could see for kilometers if there was

light to sea by, but there's not. The sea ice and the snow on top of it block the light, and other than the hole that I came in through and the hole that I'm going to leave by, it's like someone's dropped a dark curtain through the water. Black velvet, you can't see a thing. Except underneath these holes with a bright sunlight of the Antarctic summer is streaming through this clear water and these ice crystals are now rising into that shaft of light. And this beautiful, co-ascating chandelier

starts to loft. And each facet of the ice is catching that light and splitting it, and rotating as it rises. And this incredible kaleidoscope is on the rise. It's the most beautiful thing that I've ever seen.

And I don't know if anyone else that can communicate with language has ever seen it And while as a scientist you train very hard not to anthropomorphize you're not supposed to put human values onto the organisms that you observe It's hard not to think that the seal might have gone out of its way to show me this that it wasn't just an accident of Navigation that it's it's thought to show me this, that it wasn't just an accident of navigation, that it's thought to itself, hey monkey, watch this. And it's almost impossible not to feel incredibly privileged to have shared this moment alone under the sea ice, but for this and to feel grateful to that seal for what it showed me. Thank you. Matt McArthur's fascination for the seventh continent developed early. When he first understood the concept of there being a land of ice to the south of his Australian home,

he spent two summers as a diver at Scott Base, New Zealand's research station on Ross Island. Matt wrote to tell us, I feel tremendously privileged to have visited Antarctica and work hard to share the experience in the hope that I might engender in others a sense of ownership and concern for that wild place. Matt has his own podcast called Ice Coffee, the history of human activity in Antarctica. Coming up, while fleeing is soon to be war-torn country, a mother tries to distract her young daughter with a little magic. That's next on the Moth Radio Hour. The Malthe radio hour is produced by Atlantic Public Media in Woods Hole, Massachusetts, and presented by the Public Radio Exchange, PRX.org.

This is the Moth Radio Hour from PRX. I'm Katherine Burns. In this hour, we're talking about moments of occasional magic. Our final story was told by Sophia Stifonovick at the gorgeous St. Anne's Church in Brooklyn Heights. Here's Sophia, live at the Moth. So I was five years old when I left Belgrade. My dad had left a couple of weeks before us, so it was just me and my mother and my newborn

system. And we were leaving Yugoslavia and going to our new home in Australia with a fuel stop in Singapore. And at the airport my grandma, Sania, held my face in her hands and she said, you will never see grandma again. And when my face crumpled at this, she said, by way of consolation, that's because I'm very old and I will probably die soon. So, the last time that we had been at the airport, had been under happier circumstances.

We were going for vacation in Croatia, but now there were tensions between the Republic of Croatia and the Republic of Serbia where we were from. And some people, including my dad, thought that there might even be a war, which is why, instead of going for one hour to a place that we knew and loved, we were picking up all of our things and traveling for about 30 hours to the other side of the world to start our lives again. And in the plane, I cried a lot, not just because of what Grandma had said,

but because I really liked my life up until then. I really liked the little communal yard where I would play with the kids from the surrounding buildings, and I loved how in the winter, bell-grades smelled like snow and cigarettes and chestnuts, and I loved that all our family and friends lived there, and I was scared about going somewhere new.

And so for the first half of the journey, I basically cried and vomited and pulled on my mother's sleeve while she tried to get my newborn sister to sleep. And finally we landed for a fuel stop in Singapore, and we kind of miserably trudged out of the plane. And hit this, like we went through this tunnel, this air-conditioned tunnel and suddenly we were at Singapore airport. And that is the moment that my life as I knew it completely changed. So my first five years had been spent in Socialist Yugoslavia and I had loved it, but that's because I had never

been to Singapore Airport. And it was amazing. Welcome to capitalism. I realized that actually my whole life up until that moment had sucked. And that this was the best place on Earth. So I forgot about grandma and Yugoslavia and all that stuff. And I just started like taking in all of the things around me. And my mom said, wow, it's as clean as a pharmacy,

which is what we say in Serbian when a place is clean. And I had to agree with her. It was like we had been plopped into one of the Disney films that my dad used to get for me on the black market. And then she said, you could eat off the floor. And I had to agree, like I felt like actually doing it. I felt like getting on my butt and kind of like sliding across the beautiful gleaming tiles. I wanted to jump on the escalators and travel up and down, singing and dancing to the beautiful music that was playing everywhere that we went. I was kind of amazed that no one else was marvelling in the way that we were. And my mum said, look, all kids, and I looked

around and actually everywhere, like every all kids, and I looked around and actually, everywhere, like every few steps, they were these beautiful flowers growing out of planters. And I realized that my life, you know, that the world was this big and beautiful place and that I had been confined to this small grey corner of it up until now. And everything smelled like perfume and copying my mother, I put my wrist out, and this beautiful Singaporean woman in a suit like spritz dust with perfume. And we worked around looking at these beautiful glass

fronted stores that had this beautiful, colorful, apparel in them, and there were these massive screens everywhere. And on the screens, there were ads for all the latest stuff that you could get like entertainment systems, and shoes, and walkmans. And then this ad came up that just stopped me dead in my tracks.

And on this screen, there was this ad. And there were these little kids about my age. And they were like laughing and having this great time while this tiny gorgeous squiggly worm toy just like riggles around everywhere. And I was just watching this at an up close the worm, like its face is really beautiful and pointy and it has these little gougly eyes

and this like soft pink fur and it's the most amazing thing I've seen. And apparently at that moment my mother becomes an immediate convert to consumer culture because she grabs my hand and we march over to the currency exchange counter and she slams down her Yugoslavia and Dina's, get some dollars, we're going to a store and she buys me the worm. Now, this is pretty unheard of. I know that if my dad had been there, there would have been, I can argue between them.

There would have been a discussion about money and how we didn't have much and how we were moving to a whole new country that was expensive. But with just us there, my mother doesn't even look at the price tag. She just gets the worm and buys it for me. And on the plane, I'm trembling with excitement. I'm not thinking about grandma anymore or any of that stuff that has happened in the past. I'm just thinking about how as soon as we take off, I get to open this box.

And the worm comes in this little round box. And I open it up and it's kind of coiled inside. And I touch it and it's fur feels like the softest feathers. And I whisper to it in like one of the three English words that I know. So I say girl, girl, and I expect it to kind of come to life and start wriggling around like in the ad. And my mum's kind of looking at me with this weird expression because I guess she thought that I was smart. And she explains to me that the worm isn't in fact alive, but that it has this little invisible string that's attached to

it, and that's how it moves around. And so once I get the hang of this, it does actually move around in this adorable way that it had done on the ad. And when I get the hang of it, I kind of get the attention of this little boy across the aisle in the plane, and I stick my arm out, and I make the worm crawl up it, and he watches very solemnly, suitably impressed. And I think this is pretty, pretty amazing. Like, I decide I'm going to carry this little worm around in my pocket like a gorgeous fuzzy secret I start to think about my life in Australia and I think Maybe the kids will love me. I imagine this beautiful Classroom with these little kids and I imagine them saying to each other

Wow, did you see that new magic girl and I'll be standing there with my worm the new kid on the block and And I'll be standing there with my worm, the new kid on the block. And on the plane, I practice the three English words I know, so girl. And hello, and tomorrow. And I think this is the start of my new life. And I think that we can agree it's a pretty good start. Meanwhile, my mother, she puts her arm around my shoulders. And she wipes tears from her eyes and looks out the window as we travel further and further away from our little world.

Cut to the present day. I'm in my new home in New York, pregnant, having another consumer experience, in which basically I'm being sold things left, right, and center, and I'm panicking, because I think that I'm not gonna be a good mother in advance, that if I don't buy a machine that heats up butt wipes for babies, or if I don't buy this special mobile with elephants that speak in French and sing.

And the more I'm stressing about is I suddenly remember the best toy that I ever had, which was the worm, right? So, while I've got my computer in front of me and I Google Magic Fuzzy Worm and it comes up immediately. And so remember when I first saw this worm it was like the best thing that I had seen in my entire life and now I feel very confronted because this image that has come up in front of me, the worm looks really crap. Like it just looks like this piece of matted fuzz with this piece of fishing wire coming

off it and these little eyes that are stuck on with like piece of fishing wire coming off it and these little eyes that are stuck on with like bits of glue coming off the side of them. And the images are disturbing to me that I kind of don't even know what to do with it. I'm really upset by it. So I immediately pick up the phone to call my mother in Australia even though it's the middle of the night.

But this is an emergency. So I call her up and she picks up and I say, hey mum, do you remember that worm that you got me at Singapore Airport? And she says, of course I do. And I say, well, I have just found it on the internet and it looks really terrible and I can't believe that I loved it so much. And my voice does this involuntary wobble because I'm thinking about how much I loved the worm at the time and how pathetic it all seems now. And there's a little pause and my mum says impossible.

The worm that we got in Singapore was wonderful. You must be looking at a completely different worm. And then I think back to that time, and I remember me crying and then Singapore airport and how impressed I was by this worm. And for the first time I think about what it would have been like for my mother. And I realized that she was also leaving her whole world behind. And we were traveling to a whole new country, a whole new language. She was leaving behind everyone, grandma, who happened to be her mother. And it must have been really frightening for her as well. But she didn't let on. She kept it together.

And even more than that, She managed to offer me a distraction and make me less scared in that moment And like even now, you know decades later when I have called her as this Distressed adult who's waddling around on the other side of the world my mother is still trying to protect me by keeping the myth of the worm alive My mother is still trying to protect me by keeping the myth of the worm alive. And for some reason I think of that Belinda Carlisle song, somewhere in my heart. I'm always dancing with you in the summer rain. And I remember me at the airport and my young mother holding my hand. And I think about how when we got to Australia, the kids didn't actually love me.

Like my, those three words didn't really help me out much. I got laughed at and I got bullied and kids called me stupid and dummy and things like that because I couldn't speak English. And I know that I can't actually protect my future kid from the world. I'm sure that he'll get teased because maybe he'll have big ears like his dad or he'll have a big nose like me. And there are plenty of far worse things that he's going to have to learn about in the

world that I can't protect him from. But what I can do is offer some sort of protection in the form of that magic that my mother offered me, a way of seeing the world as a wonderful place instead of just a frightening place. And I know that it works because somewhere in my heart that worm is still dancing like it did that day, and it is still the most magical thing that I have seen. Thank you. That was Sofia Stefanova. Since telling this story, she had her baby and published a memoir of her childhood called Miss Ex Yugoslavia. She also hosts a monthly show called This Alien Nation at Joe's Pub in New York City.

Sophia says she's finding motherhood to be even more magical and terrifying than she imagined. That's it for this edition of the Moth Read-U-Hour about a Cajunal Magic. Speaking of which, the Moth has published an entire collection of stories in a book called Cajunal Magic. We believe that Moth stories are best told out loud, but we think they're pretty fun to read too. So we hope you'll join us next time, and that's the story was the Moths Artistic Director, Katherine Burns. Katherine also directed the stories, along with Kate Tellers, additional Grand Slam Coaching by Michelle Jolowski.

The rest of the Moths directorial staff includes Sarah Haberman, Sarah Austin Janess, Jennifer Hickson, and Meg Bowles, production support from Emily Couch. Most stories are true as remembered and affirmed by the storytellers. Our theme music is by The Drift, other music in this hour from Hot Sugar, Mark Orton, Ludovico Ainaudy, and Penguin Cafe Orchestra. The Moth is produced for radio by me, Jay Allison, with Vicki Merrick, at Atlantic Public Media in Woods Hole, Massachusetts. This hour was produced with funds from the National Endowment for the Arts. The Moth Radio Hour is presented by PRX, for more about our podcast, for information on pitching us your own story,

and everything else, go to our website, Thum off dot org.