Bayan of the Hundred Eyes

I am not sure she will appreciate the comparison, but my friend Bayan is aptly named, perhaps after Kubla Khan's greatest general, Bayan of the Hundred Eyes. Not that Bayan ever killed anyone or came riding in off the steppes sword in hand, but she could have been a general in her own right if she had wanted to. Instead, she chose to be a teacher and then a principal, thus crossing paths with me in London, our intersection between Ohio and Iraq.
My first impression of Bayan was a curious one indeed - she was far too busy too often, doted on most everyone, and took everything I said far too seriously. Dealing with her was enjoyable though, in the sense that I always had the enviable task of assuring her things were not as urgent as she imagined. She was conscientious and caring in a chaotic way, the kind of person who would always be busy even if there was nothing to do. But unlike so many other chronic scramblers, Bayan was not motivated by vanity or the need to be perceived as important or indispensable, she just cared about everyone around her. I always liked that about her, but I don't think I ever told her so.
Bayan was very intelligent, and she always tried to dismiss her intellect to the regions of intuition and experience, shying away from cerebral affirmation. Actually, I had a lot of fun with that. I teased her, trying to provoke some sort hiatus on her perpetual humility, and she eventually clocked in and coyly sidestepped my best efforts - just another indicator of her sharpness. Honestly, she just might have been the most intelligent person I had met in a long time. I never told her that either.
The best part of working with Bayan (other than her very genuine habit of praising me) was helping her connect that perceptivity to theory and research. She was very willing to learn and improve, a great compliment to her native abilities. I pushed her at times, and she always rose to the occasion. I was never so pleased as when I learned she was continuing her formal education. Humble, humorous, and hungry - the school, its staff, children, and parents are very lucky to have her. I think they know that, although that is another thing I never told her.
Like many other people in my life, I didn't part company with Bayan like I would have liked to. Before I left London, things at the school were changing (for the worse, I believed), and Bayan did what she had to do, what she should have done for her welfare and that of her staff and students. I let her know, not so subtly, that I was irritated with her, and that is a regret I will always oblige, for no one deserved my disdain less than she. Perhaps it was her forgiving nature and my ugliness that allowed it happen. I never apologized to her for that.
Bayan and I have remained in contact, and I treasure her friendship. For Bayan did something for me that no one else would have - she supported me in a personal matter when I thought I could find no support, no understanding. Ultimately, I was not successful, but she did more than her part, more than I could have asked for. Sadly, I am not sure I thanked her appropriately for that either.
But I am smiling as I write this homage, knowing that Bayan is in London taking care of the school I loved, nurturing the people I cared so much for, and will forever be in my corner, at least metaphysically. And as I think about it, Bayan of the Hundred Eyes is a suiting sobriquet for her, as she is always watching out for everyone, always where she needs to be for a friend, and is now adding so many new perspectives to her repertoire as she somehow makes time for her education. So yeah, a hundred eyes is appropriate, or even a hundred hearts......