Losing: ....Sleep, Mangoes, Doc Daniel and Parent’s Dreams

Losing Sleep over Mangoes

No, I have not suddenly desired mangoes over chips…  This is the story:  At the back of the Calvary Lutheran Church property and directly outside the back bedroom window is a majestic 3 story mango tree just sitting there quietly; it is hardly noticeable – until those little fruits ripen… and then the dogs go crazy – barking for hours at a time two or three times a night for the last three nights.   Do my dogs like mangoes?  No… Let me finish the story.   They go into barking fits because a thief sneaks [?] onto the grounds and climbs the mango tree and fills his sack with mangoes… and then he leaves.

It did take me a few times to figure out what was happening… but after the second time I saw him with a very heavy-looking sack over his shoulder nonchalantly walking towards the street and the market which is open 24 hours to sell his new cash crop.  [And my dogs barking ferociously still!]   I yelled at him and he kept going as if he knew what was good for him.   Ah sleep… not.  He returned at 4ish to the same cacophony of dogs throughout the neighbourhood, led by my two guard dogs.  I promised Anne not to do anything “too” stupid… So I just chatted with him from my window about intelligence, relationship with his mother, and other street niceties… and he left… and now time to get up.

The local wisdom was that he wouldn't come back two nights in a row.   Other local wisdom is: stand on your roof and throw bricks at him.  Okay plan; but couldn’t figure out how to get on my roof… and it may have violated my passivist sensibilities and the “too” stupid promise.   Well, he did come back around midnight… ..  So I shot him – several times!

I told him he was now on candid camera and I was going to send his picture to the newspapers as a “tief” who steals from a church.  He really did get out of the tree in a hurry and with an empty sack.   When I looked at my proof of theft… I had wonderful pictures of the flash highlighting my screens.  

Now I was really mad and had to have him to return -- not so much to get justice as that I just couldn’t believe I made such a rookie mistake with my camera.   Wishes do come true…  He returned later that night and I got him.   The dogs were trying to climb the tree and I told him... “Keep the g-d mangoes.. If you come back I am going to break both knee caps.   He left with the mangoes… and I went to sleep till morning…  And I had a picture!

To his credit, he clung to the tree like a squirrel.  And mangoes grow at the outsides of the branches…  It would be something interesting to watch – if it weren’t in the middle of the night.

The next night at about 11 the dogs go crazy… Ugh!   So true to my word I grab a large stick and head out to the tree.  And, oh yeah, the new live-in caretaker is now with me, and he has a bigger stick ..…  I figured this decreased my action to “reasonably” stupid and I could just watch as Michael pounded him, so I could still be a pacifist.

Well, he got over the back fence before either of us could reach his knees.   We sure showed him that time!!   And I did answer one ongoing question: “Do your dogs bite?”  The answer now is clear.  The thief says, “No.”  I guess the dogs are pacifists, too.   And buying mangoes at my supermarket will never be the same again.

Doctor Daniel does not go to Dinner – Again but, “Pierre” Appears

Doc Daniel is a gracious doctor here to whom I have referred many times.  He must be the official greeter for every volunteer and doctor from India.  He is the leader of a missionary church here as well as being a doctor at Mercy.   He invites all the volunteers to dinner at least once during our stay, at his home or a restaurant… and I have never had him agree to come out as my/our guest.  This last Monday, he agreed!  We planned to meet at 6 and go to the Windjammer and let Sylvia have another free meal. [We don’t want her wasting away to nothing.] 

As I was leaving, Tony called to say Doc is sick and can’t come.. we were going to cancel it all, but we remembered how excited poor, hungry Sylvia was, so we decided to go anyhow…

I get there early [what else is new?] and as I am sitting there with a beer I was chatting with a Guyanese heavy weight boxer… and then a guy comes dragging himself in and I say, “You look tired.  Canadian?”  He nods and we shake hands… Now my story begins.

I get him a beer [He’s Canadian, eh?]    And he starts on his tale ..…  Briefly:   he is married [for the second time to a Guyanese woman] to an Amerindian woman and they live in region 1 on the far west of Guyana in a village called Maruka.     His wife was pregnant and dutifully attended al her prenatal clinics in the country.   And everything was fine… until she started to have contractions.   The rural midwife attended and after her waters broke and for the next 32 hours she had contractions and pain… 

The baby was trying to be born breech.   This was not noticed by the midwife ......   After many hours of this, “Pierre” got his wife in a speedboat [can you imagine the smooth ride?] down river to the town of Charity and a local hospital where they did notice the breech, so sent them by ambulance another hour or so down the road to Suddie and the regional hospital there.  Here, as “Pierre” describes it, they had wonderful care from the doctors and nurses and the baby was delivered by C-Section.  He said that the doctor was caring, skilled, etc… and spoke only Cuban Spanish, so several of his Cuban colleagues did a joint English translation. 

All this eventually led to the parents being told that their baby had fluid sacs in her head and at the lower part of her spine and they were going to have to go to Georgetown Public Hospital for treatment.   So off they went by ambulance, speedboat, ambulance ..... to the city…    They spent a week or so at GPH and no one came to see the baby or offer a solution, so up they went and got the baby to Davis Memorial, a private Seven Day Adventist Hospital in the city.   Here they did meet a surgeon who said that he was to operate on the baby the next day..    This was the morning of the day I met "Pierre" … and the surgeon had not showed up all day…..
 

No wonder he looked tired; I couldn’t even imagine what the mom was looking like.  Their baby has Spina Bifida of the most serious kind.   I tried to do my best therapeutic grunting routine and not say anything as he was just talking about sacs…  Just then Tony arrives… and I introduce him to “Pierre” who briefly describes his journey and problems with the baby… and I could see that Tony is preparing to deliver his three hour clinical presentation on SB, complete with drawings he was planning to make on the hotel’s napkins.   Whoaaaa… and like a good spouse, I gave him the “eyes of death” [and for those of you not married, it conveys:  "you do what I think you are going to do, you won’t see the sun rise!"]   So he adopted the therapeutic grunt technique as well… A similar process was repeated with Sylvia.
 

We did offer our condolences and moral support for him and his wife… and then a couple from Canada also joined us… He was a sixties exile from Guyana who married a Canadian girl… and (small world!) knew Elizabeth Abdool [I haven’t told her yet, as this is a test to see if Elizabeth reads the blog] who is the President of Guyana Christian Charities in Canada. 

On Wednesday, a Senior Student Nurse tells me that Mercy Hospital has just admitted a baby who has SB…  Yup, Mercy had the necessary requirements to perform the surgery and follow-up, so “Pierre’s” baby and wife were here.   And I thought they would make good patients for our new clinical rounds.

They agreed – and so did the surgeon with the usual “who has the bigger ......” requirements, just to show who is really in charge. 

At 2 pm [Guyana time] the seniors interviewed “Pierre” and his wife [don’t really have to give her a fake name too, do I?   I think if you really want to know their real names you can see Tony’s blog.]   It was a sad time and the parents were articulate and had learned so much in a few weeks – and really will have so much more to learn in the years to come.   And Tony got to do his modified three hour lecture.    And the students answered some of the patients' questions at the end and thanked them for their effort to help them learn about their child and about a real life family and their journey.  When I asked the parents what they were both worried about, they were in agreement:  What were they going to do with their child [a special needs child] in a small remote village in the mountains of Guyana?   Seems like a fair question!    

Some things about “Stuff”

• Sister Beatrice Fernandes, who has not been well the whole time I have been here, wants everyone to know that she takes strength from all your prayers.   Actually, when I visited her this week, she was on the verandah “catching some breeze.”

This statue is at an entrance to the convent.  I have always liked it.  am not sure why because it is really no nun that I ever knew growing up... no yardstick in her hand!

Two colleagues and friends from McMaster, Charlie Malcolmson and his wife Cathy Lee will be joining Tony and me for a week on an “exploratory” visit to see if there is something for them to do if they come back again sometime.   Cathy is a Nurse Practitioner and Charlie is a Paediatrician from McMaster.  We have arranged a schedule for them.. and in true Guyanese fashion have put it in pencil!   It will be good to have them here.

The Black Board picture in the slide show is how the seniors saw my personality profile… Not bad for an old guy…  Tony was upset because he didn’t get a TEN in the “cool” factor!

I do try and keep in correspondence with everyone who writes me… but sometimes it takes me awhile.  And with company coming and the surge in worry about getting everything accomplished in our remaining two weeks… I’ll probably not get around to responses this week -- but I really do value your comments…

At Calvary Church, they actually want me back preaching this Sunday.   The last time I talked about slavery and my limited mind has not left the topic.  I will talk about freedom.  Now to do this I changed a reading… a liturgical mortal sin.  [However, I am not worried as it won’t be my first liturgical sin.]  My mind has played with a Chinese proverb,

“I dreamed a thousand new paths.

I woke and walked my old one.”

May you all be seekers of freedom and may some of your paths be unknown.

                                                                                                                                             John

Just Some Folks - Not All

 Sounds of Silence - NOT

I have long since thought that we did not have anything at our core – no central defining value, soul, centre, whatever.   We are the unique ingestion of our experiences and especially our experiences with others.   So the “who” of John is the amalgamation of all the relationships of a lifetime.   There is no “Cogito, ergo…” anything.  I am my memories, some conscious, some only felt, of all the relationships of living.  These relationships may be long and intimate, conflicted or demanding or punishing, short and/or significant.  They are all there in “who” I am today.   These internal beings share in the new experiences of my present incarnation.  How could I have been anyone if not for those who have known me and I have known?   However unique or different I am, I owe it to the people like those whose existing has bounced into mine this week in Guyana.

Rev. Richard Young

I would have a difficult time keeping a white Lutheran pastor who used to be a doctor and has been here for nine years anonymous… and there is really no need to do so.   I met Dick even before I physically met him… He had arrived as a long term missionary just before I first came in 2002.   He had a big write-up in some Lutheran rag… that told of a hodgepodge of activities in which he would be involved.   I did get to meet him that first year and every year thereafter.    And after his move into the city several years ago, we have gotten together frequently… for a few beers. [Yes, I drink them all as Dick doesn’t.]  I could not really last more than three months here because I do not have the patience nor the spirit to deal with all the disappointments of inertia, but Dick has a wonderful acceptance of people and all their failings….. He is a pastor of the people here; he has a sense of call that emboldens his work even when it is a colossal failure – in my eyes. 

Enough of the pre-canonization propaganda….. I am sad:  Dick is finishing his ministry in Guyana for all sorts of reasons at the end of December.   And, of course, this means he will not be here if/when I return.  [Ah yes, my students, as I have said, “grief is essentially selfish” – at least initially.]  He will head back to his family farm in Oregon… and I will miss him.

And he has become a part of me – as Doc Young before him.  That Doc Young was a retired police surgeon whom my mother kept busy by bringing me to his home (next door) for treatment… I have a lot of stories – here's just one: I fell through a French door full of glass and gashed my head… and he stitched it up right in his kitchen.  Now that isn’t the point of the story…  The point is that he gave me a six pack of small Cokes and told me to take one every hour! 

From their Prison Shots of 2006

 

Annessia and Nathoya

These two had been my students a few years ago and were among those 19 fired/laid off by Mercy to “save” the hospital.    Well, Tony and I had a meeting for all those folks last Sunday and 6 showed up [I have seen almost everyone else in the following days.]  It was a good meeting of sharing and support and for a moment there seemed to be more of the spirit of the Mercy Family there than elsewhere.  It is strange – well, not that strange for here.  There was very little resentment at Mercy even though almost no-one had seen it coming.   It confirmed my “script” that there is a generalized despair….. like "Nothing good ever happens here in my life and why should this be different?"   Anyhow, they exchanged phone numbers and offered ideas of how they could use their strengths to get jobs. 

I had met Annessia after she had been fired and, like the others, was not all that distressed – at least not as much as I was.  (She had just received the award for the most improved student in her batch.)   Mercy had forwarded all the names and phones to other hospitals and major employers who might be looking.   Mercy nurses are still regarded as the best in Guyana and rightfully so…  So the next time that I saw Annessia she was wearing a smart looking pants outfit with a Bhawant Singh Hospital logo…..  She had been hired at another private hospital in Georgetown and for considerably more dollars.  And Nathoya is there too… I have not seen her personally as she is very short and I may have missed her in a crowd!

They are my children here - and the reason that I have come here.  I want the best for them that they can manage.  I didn’t realize how much of myself that I had invested in them….. all of them.    They had been pre-incarnated by those McMaster family members who were also given the opportunity to "free up their futures" by those who really had none of their own…  I remembered them (and me with them) going in a blink of the eye from loyal staff to potential corporate saboteurs.  Strange -- if I had a soul it would have MUMC branded on it….. for McMaster University Medical Centre, as it was then.

Another Nursing Graduate

Last week she had asked me if she could talk to me and I said sure ….. [As Anne just wrote:” …you can say no, sorry, not today as I’m too busy.  Oh, I forgot – you have to take care of your need to be needed ...... and I’m not kidding or disparaging; I do know that’s important for your soul.”  Soul? And she calls herself a Unitarian?]   This nurse eventually caught up with me to tell me that she will be leaving Mercy Nursing  - initially to stay at home with her three kids… Her second child was born at the end of her first first year in the school of nursing.   You see, if you are pregnant in the first year you have to leave. [I have not quite figured out this reasoning, but I am pretty sure it has to do with British decorum and all that stuff.]  Well, two years later she returned to start nursing again and became one of the few "two-timers" of my students.   I shall not use her name, though those who know her already know her story…..  Her own mother had abandoned her when she was small and she is determined that her children will have the sense of a mother who cares about them – even if it will be difficult financially.   I am sure she will return to nursing, in Guyana, but now a special season is demanded in her living.   She seems to be me ......  so familiar that she has to be me.  (When I stop coming here, perhaps I’ll have money for analysis!)
 

I may have another two-timer.  A bright first year nurse who has a child and is a single parent has had a cough for some time.  I had been after her to find a doc….. well, she got into line at the Public Hospital – as she has not been in the family long enough to get care at Mercy – and would still be there, except that, not having Dick’s patience, I paid for her to get a TB test done at Mercy.  And, yes, she has active TB, so she has had to withdraw from the school, as the first year students are only allowed three days absence…   So she has been at home and is now waiting for treatment to begin; hopefully, that will be sometime soon.   And the rest of us will need to have a TB test as they are worried about the spread.   I really doubt it as you usually have to have prolonged and close contact.

 

I have at least a dozen people left… I thought his would just be a short point-form thingy.  Maybe I should have a commercial break?   Okay one or two more, and that’s it.  

A Girl from St. Ann’s

Like the nurses above her story will be no secret here… She just turned 16; the pumpkin age for all girls at St. Ann’s to leave.   I’ll call her “John” [Did you know that all the newborns whom I baptised dead or alive at MUMC and whose parents didn’t want a name for them, I baptized them John. How can one go to the kin-dom without a name?]   Well this John was going to be adopted by an overseas couple who had visited her and were captivated by her personality.  In the process of applying for a visa, it was discovered that John was Hiv+.  And the family admitted that they were not strong enough to cope and the adoption was cancelled.   John has really never recovered in spirit.   Sometimes the matrons wonder why she acts out… and sometimes the smaller kids have answered “John” when visitors ask who is in charge of St. Ann’s.   Anyhow, Sr. Barbara has allowed the older girls whose hopes of ever passing an exam are minimal to work as apprentices and John is working with a veterinarian.   So I promised to buy her a book on animal husbandry at the bookstore.   We [John, John and several of her friends made the trip] actually found a book on First Aid for Dogs, complete with all the gruesome pictures of disease and accidents. 

It was a successful trip and when I got home – guess what – one of the dogs at the parsonage or had a red eye.   So I took a digital picture of my guard dog humping my leg ..… and went back to St. Ann’s and asked for a consult from Dr. John, and said that I would pay for good advice for my  dog.   She was thrilled and so was everyone else – till she realized that she would actually have to read the book!   I am still waiting for the advice and as the dog in question is still barking most of the night it seems that the disease wasn’t terminal. 

I have no idea of how and if John will survive outside the womb of St. Ann’s.   And I remember feeling the same (though I don’t have Hiv, nor am I a girl) when I left Maryknoll and Catholicism:  I didn’t know if I would survive… and if I did as what?   I do think that there were some who would have given me the same odds as this John…  I can only pray that this John will survive with the blessings I've had.

Can you handle another?  Just one more?

Gold Coast Waiter

I took Dick [see earlier, above] out for a farewell meal before his dance card gets all filled.  He wanted to go to the Chinese restaurant that was a favourite of my favourite nuns Sheila and Theresa.  I will make the waiter anonymous not only to protect his identity but also because I have already forgotten his name.  I knew him and he knew me; and, we both remembered Theresa who could not leave with extra chicken bones for her Guyanese dogs who seem immune to the warning to never give chicken bones to dogs.   And he always tried to get a little free medical advice from Sheila…  I promised to remember him to Sheila -- who will remember his name.  

The long standing restaurant was pretty much a ghost town as the new and chrome and cool New Thriving Chinese restaurant had opened across the street.   He stood, polite and courteous, unlike me in most ways, yet I saw myself in him --  in a world that had passed his style by, where customers were valued for themselves and their stories as well as their dollars… and the tip is included in the bill.   I imagine that this is how all us older people feel and whether the new will be better, I don't know – it just will be.  At least we can remember and smile.    

There are more of me here... and many of you are me, as I am you.   Thanks for joining me this week.  For better or for worse.. I would not be here without you in my spirit and in my body... John

I'll do this as a PS so I don't make a liar out of myself.

My Adopted Son, Rashleigh, The Lecturer

We were exploring a paper problem of a young Amerindian child in the interior who was thrown into prison for a crime that wasn't a crime.  The students wanted to go on a field trip - naturally, to the interior to see a jail there - and the sights too.  I had thought that we could get a tour of the local facility but apparently it was not possible for a class.  So I remembered that Rashleigh had spent a few days in the Georgetown lock-up in his youth a few years ago.  I asked him if he would come and describe his experiences there - and believe me, you don't want to know!   I was very proud of him - mature and articulate and descriptive... very descriptive.   Anyhow, I had promised if he came he would make my blog this week; as well as, I took a couple of thousand (Guyanese) off his loan ......  

One-Fourth In and Only Two-Thirds Left

No, the sun hasn't gotten to my head... It always seems that once I have settled in the remainder of the time goes by quicker... and before you know it I have run out of time to do all that I had planned.   This may not happen this year as Tony has developed the knack of worrying about most things way in advance of them arriving - at least several times; at least, I will not have my usual excuses this year.

Speaking of getting to my head: I visited Raison, my barber of almost all my years here, who greeted me by name and didn't even ask if my "tail" was to come off... I now have my Guyana haircut.   I like it as it is cooler... and drier.   Raison added a spritzer of olive oil as he said, "all the cool guys use it." Naturally, I agreed.  There are some days that my Canadian length keeps its "just showered" wetness all day... Ugh. [See previous blog.]

I think it is getting fuller on the top!

Saturday I was out doing a presentation to moms [and grandmothers -moms again] and one dad of the students at Mercy Wings in a poorer section of Georgetown.  Wings was founded by the Sisters of Mercy back in 2000 and has as its mission to facilitate the transformation of youths who are labeled as ‘failures’ into a new kind of youth who have a positive self-image, have integrated sound moral values and a healthy spirituality, and are socially conscious.   Empowerment through human development and skills training enables them to be self-sufficient, motivated to take charge of their lives, and become agents of social and attitudinal change.   [Don't you just love mission statements!]  However, Wings has graduated approximately 300 trainees, most of whom have secured jobs, and a number of whom have gone on to more advanced education.

Mercy Sister Denise is the Director at Wings

Sylvia is a Scarborough Volunteer who is working at Wings and St. Ann's; and is miffed because Tony and I took the Mercy Volunteers out to dinner without her and she is a Canadian, eh?

Adolescent Development, which is a major component of the programme, is seen as helping teenagers learn who they are, by developing a positive self-image; exploring the nature of family and their relationship with their parents and siblings; learning anger management and conflict resolution; and gaining practical knowledge about such things as drugs, alcohol, AIDS, smoking, gambling and violent behaviour.   And I was there to talk to the parents about the losses they have had in their lives and how it impacts their parenting and own living.  As I was given a whole hour [did you ever notice that experts seldom stay long - for if they did, no one would consider them experts .....] I felt  --- Ugh!   These parents are often single parents of single parents, themselves with very little education and a job or two or three that just covers minimum expenses.  The women are most likely victims of domestic abuse with at least one partner, as the neighbourhood is somewhat short on refined, well-educated men.   They all had dreams of escaping the cycle of poverty that they grew up in, and yet they are still there.   They planned to raise their own children with an unconditional love that they did not know themselves as children.  And just a couple of weeks ago a neighbourhood family of five were gunned down in their car in broad daylight... Come to think of it they probably know more about loss and grief than I do...  So it may be a good thing that I only had my expert hour.



There were about two dozen there eager, interested and doing their best so that their children will be able to have the better life that so far has escaped them.   There were many questions and comments, most of which I could actually understand ..... but providing an expert answer was way more difficult.     At best, I gave them some frameworks or tools to make a tiny bit of sense out of their raw thoughts and feelings.  

The highlight of the time was in response to a series of questions about the impact of parents' fighting on the development of their children.  I am of the opinion that fighting is not either here nor there.  If the children can see the parents resolve the argument constructively ..... and we agreed that any use of machetes was not constructive .... it was in fact excellent role modeling for their children's own arguments.  They wanted an example so I asked for a volunteer and we would role play a spousal conflict. 

I asked my volunteer to think a of a simple and light fight that she and her partner get into.   She said, "Sex."  and the remainder of the class agreed with a huge roar of laughter.  I suggested that a less complicated topic might serve our purposes, but there was no going back.  I just wanted to illustrate the benefits of role reversals in understanding the other.So she described her part in the dialogue... and to no one's surprise... she is basically tired, and her partner who has a job but no household responsibilities is ready for a lot more action.  She found it hard to be him until I acted the husband's position ..... though I did find it extremely hard to be a crude, horny husband. [I must have nailed it because the room was chattering, "That he!"] 

Then I got her to be him and I was the tired wife .....  She got into his head and without my prompting said, "I guess we have a problem."  The "problem we share" is an amazing first step in a satisfactory solution.   The collective wisdom of the group came up with solid suggestions for satisfying both partners.   And after the session, the lone man came up to me and told me he was the husband of the woman I was coming on to in the role play .....  Whoops...  And he thanked me, as he understood his wife better.. and just for good measure they are foster parents of two more than their own four.    I always learn more than I teach.

Speaking of things that have been out in the sun too long...  My guard dogs.   These dogs have been protecting me and keeping me safe... in unusual ways. 
So far they have terrified all my visitors.  I have resorted to visiting my guests on the steps of the church.  However, after consulting with my dog whisperer and feeder Sandra, [who cooks something for them every day... and delivers it as well ..... maybe if I bark, she'll leave some dinner for me .....]  I learned that the best thing is a bribe.  So now when my company arrive, I litter the yard with dog treats.   And it works.. though I have to repeat the process on the way out too.

And then the canines come into their own about 3AM [and settling down before sunrise] when they and the accompanying neighbourhood beasts bark loudly and constantly at some intruder seen only by them.   [I wonder if Tony consults on dogs who have hallucinations?]





Sandra - and "Pastor" Val [all the way from Canada] told me the barking was my fault because the mutts are bored... and I should spend an hour or so with them, reaping personal rewards too .....  I will defer this till after I am really crazy and have a doctor's referral for Pet Therapy!  

I have decided to try the same solution that worked for dog problem #1... I'll just chuck a few treats out the window.  Stay tuned, I'll tell you if it works or if I just have fat guard dogs.





Our nursing students seem to have latched on to PBL; they are getting more precise at defining problems and developing a personal resource bank of books, websites and older nursing students/staff to assist with their learning.   Some days Tony and I are convinced that we are missing something... and other days Tony wonders whether it is his wonderful and insightful and comprehensive and delightful facilitative leadership [including some of mine] or it is the students' hunger for knowledge and the appropriateness of the PBL model?  I have long tried to avoid fundamentalism in religion and reductionism in science - so I usually answer "probably both are true"... even all those grandiose qualities he self-attributes ..... I just agree.   [Though in the spirit of honest disclosure required of all great work:  he said he was buying dinner tonight!]

 



Speaking of writers, I came across a quote from Edward Ward, an English writer in the Caribbean, about 1700:

The Condition of an Author, is much like that of a Strumpet, both exposing our Reputations 

to supply our Necessities, ...   The chiefest and most commendable Talent, 

admir'd in either, is the Knack of Pleasing ..... 

The only difference between us is, in this particular, wherein the Jilt has the Advantage, 

We do our Business First, and stand to the Courtesie of our Benefactors to Reward us after; 

whilst the other, for her Security, makes her Rider pay for his Journey, 

before he mounts the Saddle. 

Well, enough of my ramblings, my Benefactors.
John

[See Donations page.]