Private Here, Light Still Shines

[Efret Farr]

“But that doesn’t mean that we still can’t be friends.”

A playful smile crept over Efret's lips. "Very good," she replied. "I was under the impression that we would be lifelong friends. It'd be awkward if my choice changed that."

Her face lit up as Cora described the royal decree. "That's fantastic!" Again, excitement and pride weren't communicated by the tone of her interpretation unit, but through her expressions. "Every culture progresses differently. Some keep similar paces; others stay at earlier stages for longer. Or forever, sometimes. The Fondorian Luddites, for example." Granted, she knew little about their legal system, but, at least considering conventional technological advancement, they were certainly lagging behind their neighbors, both aboveground and throughout the rest of the Core.

She continued, "You're leading your people to a future that you believe in. Perhaps it's a little disappointing that they couldn't find their own way down this path, but you should be proud that they're walking it now." Her mind's focus drifted in the picture Nirrah projected from Cora to Lucy in her sling, the Lorrdian's hazel eyes tracking the same path. "Parents aren't ashamed of their babies when they have to hold their hands as they take their first steps." She returned her gaze to her friend, an even softer smile on her own face. "Your people will grow alongside Luciana. She'll strengthen her legs. They'll strengthen their morality. Over time, they won't obey marriage or other equality laws because they're laws. They'll obey because they know it's the right thing to do."

The words signed and spoken settled out into stillness and silence. Efret moved to find a frying pan and some oil, then began preheating it on the still-warm burner. She switched it back on. As the small fire imparted its warmth into the metal, she sought out a few cucumbers and some peanuts or their substitutes to make a simple salad.

"I don't mean to presume anything about your planet," she began after brushing some pieces of diced produce sticking to her borrowed knife into a wooden bowl. "Or to pressure you at all. I'm sure you have many ideas and your work will be hard enough, but if I may suggest you to tend to disabled people as well. The Deaf, the Blind, the amputees, the paralyzed, to name just a few. Please step back." She paused conversing again to put the spices into the pan and stir. An earthy, slightly sweet aroma blossomed into the room as the multicolored spice mix simmered and popped in the oil.

The taste and smell of Lorrd had come to Ukatis.

Efret set the spatula down on a pottery spoon rest. She hoped she wasn't overstepping any boundaries. Teaching and advocacy came naturally, even if she wasn't to be an official Jedi again. "Again, I know nothing about your culture, but I observed a pattern in my years of ethnography before the war. On the whole, disabled populations' shared and individual plights often go ignored."

Corazona von Ascania​

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

Cora’s cheeks pinked a little - it seemed so obvious, in hindsight, that Efret’s choice to step away from the Jedi wouldn’t hinder their relationship. An awkward smile quirked the line of her lips, then broke into a full grin at Efret’s praise.

Shehadn’t lobbied for the rights of Ukatian women for accolades, but it still felt nice to receive the warmth of Efret’s approval.

“That morality shift may not happen completely within my lifetime,” she nodded along, “but as long as the wheels keep moving, I’ll be happy.”

The imagery of Lucy growing along a changing Ukatis was poignant. It made something in her chest tighten. In a way, she felt a shame to only push for change so fervently once she’d had her daughter - but, as they said, better late than never.

Cora’s attention shifted back to the present, following the leading tone that Efret’s synthesized words managed to convey despite their flatter intonation. It made sense; disabled populations could struggle in more modern societies, and Ukatis had hardly carved out space and support for them. There were few enough resources for the world’s working class, and even less for those with disabilities.

Cora blinked, then took a hurried step back. Lucy, fascinated by the sizzles and pops and new aromas, began breathing loudly with excitement.

“I don’t want to ignore their needs,” Cora agreed. “I understand the plight of women, and I’ve come to better understand the difficulties of the working class. But I have so little experience working with people with disabilities - how could I best go about learning to support them?”

Efret Farr

 

[Efret Farr]

Hands full, Efret was silent while completing the next few steps:

She added in the onion and garlic, plus the rest of the spices, and sautéed it shortly. Then she slid the tomato pieces with her hand into the pen as well. Their juices started sweating out immediately. Tan dray milk swirled into it as Efret poured from the pitcher. Finally, she scraped in the cooked beans for their pot, which she floated up at an angle from the pan's lip to do her work.

When finished, she gave everything a stir and fit the lid onto the pan. Steam given off by the dahl's gentler simmer condensed on the underside of the glass. She turned to Cora with a smile.

"I've found that the best way the learn about another people is emersion," she replied. "Living with them." Oh, and how she missed it. If she wasn't haunted by guilt of her own supposed insufficiency, she might have thrown herself back into her first-handed cultural studies. "That was my job for two decades though, give or take, and I trained extensively before that to be an archeologist. Ethnography was my addition after I graduated and started running my own expeditions. My meaning is, I had a long time to get used to what I did. It can be quite uncomfortable to implant yourself into a new culture, even temporarily, and more still to try to forget the biases of your own."

Despite how the words themselves could land, she wasn't trying to admonish Cora, but rather to offer her some assurance, should she need it. The truth she might find among Ukatis' Disabled could be unsettling.

She nodded, anticipating a spoken or silent question. "Yes, Disability is a culture. Did you know that? It's an experience equally personal and shared, and rarely understood or accepted or even just tolerated by outsiders. It's shared art and sometimes shared language, like signing. It's a unique culture because its boarders aren't closed, or even as rigid as some others'. Most sentients become disabled in some way sometime during their lives. Whether or not they actually identify with the culture is another matter, of course, but they could.

"While I'm not Ukatish, I am also not a total outsider to the Disabled people here. There's an invisible string binding us all across the galaxy, because unfortunately we are treated very similarly wherever we're born."

Maybe stars and planets weren't all that coalesced out of nebulas. Maybe, somehow, sometimes, isms did too, waiting patiently in space until they could attach themself to sentient life.

"I'd suggest starting with workers' supports and protections. Your economy is agricultural, correct?" The question was mostly rhetoric. She didn't know anything about the finer points of Ukatish culture, but she was familiar with its' people's general way of life. "Hard labor mostly, I'd assume. Most disabled bodies are not suited for that. If they are unemployed, that is probably why, not because they are lazy. Most people crave purpose, but sometimes it need to be shown to them. Create safe, meaningful, well-paying jobs they can do—many that fit many different needs."

Efret paused, letting her words sit for a few moment before continuing. "Your lived experience guides your fight against misogyny. My lived experience is here to guide to against ableism, should you want it. Call or text me anytime. I have the same comm frequency as before. It was just switched off for a long time."

She moved to turn back to the pan, reaching for the lid as well, but then retracted. When she faced Cora again, she wore her own proud smile. "Oh. Better news from me. Before Takodana fell, I handpicked some convorees from an aviary there. I'm training them to use Visual Projective Telepathy like Nirrah does." She paused again, reaching up to scratch the convor under her feathery chin. "It will be some time before they're ready to be partnered with people, but I've told Grandmaster Quin that I'd like a few to go to help the Blind in Theed when the training is finished." A decisive nod. "I'd like some to come here too."

Corazona von Ascania​

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

Immersing yourself within an unfamiliar culture made sense if you wanted to better understand it. Cora wondered if the disabled denizens of Ukatis would welcome her, or if they'd leer at her, wary of what troubles a noblewoman would bring. If they accepted, would it be out of a sense of obligation?

She would have to think hard about her approach. Soft enough to waylay concern, but strong enough to convey that her attendance wasn't just for show.

"Disability is a culture?"

Lucy began to whine, so Cora bounced on her heels and swayed from side to side. Sometimes the baby didn't like to be still, preferring the familiar rhythm of movement.

Everything that followed from Efret was poignant and worthy of consideration, but one point stuck out to Cora in particular: Most sentients become disabled in some way sometime during their lives.

The more she thought about it, the more reasonable it felt. Disability did not need to be present from birth - it could be the result of illness, accident, or even aging.

"I'm not certain if pregnancy would count," Cora began, "but when I was in my last trimester, I felt like there weren't enough places to sit down. I was always uncomfortable." The line of her lips ticked upward in a modest smile. "With our agricultural outputs expanding, we'll need more people managing the aspects to it that have less to do with the hard labor. Accountants, material management, procurement specialists…"

City life was slowly growing, too. She'd have to ensure that rural provinces weren't lost in the shuffle.

"Promise you won't get sick of me if I call too much?" Though she teased, the grin that stretched wide across Cora's face was from the heart. It would be good to keep in touch with Efret after all this time.

"I think that's a wonderful idea. Your convorees would be well received here, I think."

Some Ukatians, particularly those who worked on the agricultural industry, were as suspicious of the Republic as they were of the Alliance. Cora imagined that the birds, a familiar entity, would be more welcome.

"It's good to have you back, Efret," she added. Cora's voice had dropped into something lower, something warm. "You've always been so thoughtful in how you approach everything. I think you're going to help a lot of people."

Efret Farr