CCJC Audio Podcast Episode 00035 Season 2
At night the replay of a broken record that never stops revolving never stops in Francoise LeBlanc’s dreams. It’s that certain deafening roar that reverberates in the stillness of summer nights. It was the last sound she remembered before the searing pain. When she came to, the world was not only blank but also muffled blanket of sounds - the distant hum of the aid convoy, the frantic voices of her team, and the incessant buzzing of Tsetse flies.
She was blind now. The rebel RENAMO landmine had taken her sight, but it couldn't extinguish the fire in her soul. Back in the small village in Mozambique, she had been a whirlwind of energy with giving out aid and comfort. Her good-natured Cajun laughter was missed echoing through the market as she often bartered for the day's catch.
In the aftermath, the silence was deafening. Her vibrant world reduced to a muted and fragmented canvas of sounds and smells. Her cane, a gift from another kind aid worker, felt foreign in her hands. It was a clumsy extension of her body, a constant reminder of her disability. She stumbled through the dusty streets of the refugee camp, with someone’s cur guide dog, a scruffy Africanis mutt named João, sniffing at every bush, her tail wagging a frantic rhythm.
One afternoon, while attempting to navigate the crowded market, João, distracted by the tantalizing aroma of roasted peanuts, veered off course. Francoise, her heart pounding, felt her cane bump against a stack of baskets, sending a cascade of mangoes tumbling to the ground. "Desculpe!" she called out to the stall owner, her voice trembling.
Waves of shame washed over her. She was a burden as she awaited transport back to the US, a liability. Suddenly, a gentle hand touched her arm. "It's alright," a soothing voice said. "Acidentes acontecem." (Accidents happen)." Francoise turned in the direction of the voice. The young woman, soothingly and calmly said, "I'm Graça," she said. "I lost my sight in a similar accident a few years ago. It takes time, but you'll get the hang of it."
As her young daughter picked up the baskets where they sold them, Graça spent the next hour patiently guiding Francoise through the market, her voice a beacon in the sea of unfamiliar sounds. She taught her a few simple things about how to use her cane more effectively, how to listen for the subtle cues in her environment, and how to trust her instincts.
As the sun began to set, casting long shadows across the camp, Francoise felt a glimmer of hope sitting on her bunk. She was not alone. There were others like her who understood her struggles, who shared her pain. She knew she would find her way once she got back to Louisiana, one hesitant step at a time.
Back In Shreveport, Louisiana Near The Louisiana Association For The Blind
The Louisiana heat and humidity clung to Francoise LeBlanc like a Cotton Mouth snake skin in need of shedding, even in the shade of her porch. She sat on the worn wooden swing, the familiar rusting squawk comforting rhythm. "Jo-el, boy, quit your fidgeting," she muttered, nudging the Golden Retriever with her knee. Jo-el whined, his tail thumping a nervous rhythm against the porch floorboards.
Losing her sight in that damn landmine blast in Mozambique hadn't just robbed her of vision; it had stolen her confidence. Back in Mamou, Louisiana, she'd been a whirlwind – a Cajun firecracker with a passion for history and a wicked sense of humor. Now, every step felt like navigating a minefield.
Her cane, a sleek aluminum Ossenberg model with its specialized tip, felt more like a weapon than a tool. It kept catching on the porch railing, clattering against the flowerpots. Once, in a particularly embarrassing incident, it had sent a cascade of terracotta pots tumbling to the ground. "Sacré bleu!" she'd exclaimed, the neighbors staring at her with wide eyes that she couldn’t see.
Jo-el, bless his golden heart, was a constant source of both comfort and distraction. He'd nudge her towards the familiar scent of honeysuckle, he’d take near her favorite Ghost Orchid, a gift from her mother Madame Estelle, his nose twitching with excitement. He'd also developed an unfortunate habit of barking at any unfamiliar sound, convinced it was a threat or hopeful it was a certain squirrel intent on tormenting him.
One afternoon, while attempting to walk down her familiar street, Jo-el, distracted by the enticing scent of a nearby Swamp Shack barbecue, veered off course. Francoise, relying too heavily on her canine companion, almost stepped into the oncoming traffic. The screech of tires was a bring-you to your knees kind of terror.
"Jo-el, non!" she yelled, yanking on his leash. "Tonnerre de Brest!"
Shaken but unharmed, she sat on a nearby bus bench, the afternoon sun warming her face. "We gotta do better, boy," she sighed, stroking Jo-el's soft fur. "This white cane? Well, it's harder than it looks, I’m still not good at it."
An unfamilar gruff voice startled her. "Need a hand, ma'am?"
An elderly gentleman, his face weathered by years of sun and Gulf salt, stood before her. "Seems like that four-legged friend of yours got sidetracked."
Francoise, surprised by his kindness, smiled. "He's still learning the ropes, just like me. We’re doing our best to get out of here and back to New Orleans."
The old man chuckled. "Life throws us curveballs, doesn't it? But of course you know what they say down here in Louisiana? 'Laissez les bon temps rouler' – Let the good times roll. We Cajuns gotta find a way to make the best of it."
He then proceeded to give her a heads-up mini-lesson on cane technique, his voice a soothing drawl. "You gotta trust it, ma'am. Feel the ground, listen to the sounds. It’ll guide you."
Francoise listened intently, a flicker of hope returning to her heart. Maybe she could learn to navigate this new world, one hesitant step at a time. She just had to remember both his kindness and Graça’s as she accepted her new reality. Soon she could reclaim her life with a little of her own Cajun fire and make a difference in the lives of others in New Orleans.
Little did she know at the time that she’d eventually be one of the Co-Producers at Cajun Chronicles Podcast Corporation, leading the way to bring awareness that disability does not mean inability.
Straight From Francoise LeBlanc’s Soapbox Speech on Jackson Square
“Okay, so you're new to this white cane thing. First off, congrats! You're about to gain a whole new level of independence. Now, let's get real. This isn't exactly like swinging a light saber. Now I’ve never seen one, but I bet they are amazing! It takes practice, patience, and maybe a few scraped shins along the way.
Think of it like learning to ride a bike without training wheels. You’ve got to get through those wobbly starts, a few tumbles, but eventually, you'll be cruising down Bourbon Street like a pro. Start with baby steps, literally.
Practice in a safe, familiar space, like your living room or backyard. Get a feel for the rhythm, how the cane moves, and how it interacts with different surfaces. Don't be afraid to bump into things. It happens!
Just learn to anticipate and adjust. Remember, your cane is your friend, not your frenemy or enemy. Use it wisely, and it'll guide you to amazing places. May the force be with you! -- Francoise LeBlanc © 2024
Our tales are inspired by real New Orleans history, but some details may have been spiced up for a good story. While we've respected the truth, a bit of creative license could have been used. Please note that all characters may be based on real people, but their identities in some cases have been Avatar masked for privacy. Others are fictional characters with connections to Louisiana.
A Word of Wisdom:
As you read, remember history and real life is a complex mix of joy, sorrow, triumph, and tragedy. While we may have (or not) added a bit of fiction, the core message remains: the human spirit's power to endure, adapt, and overcome.
© Jerilee Wei 2024 All Rights Reserved.
Image generated by Google Gemini AI
Share this post