I don't know why, but every now and then this song pops into my head and I can't get rid of it right away. It's a lovely song. It's African. It brings back wonderful memories of the 3 weeks I have spent in South-Africa. Young black girls dressed in purple outfits, welcomed us with enthusiasm I have only seen in black people. Bare feet, they were stumping on the dirt floor, in a steady rhythm, clapping their hands and showing their bright, white teeth. Their eyes shone as they watched us come out of the car. They looked at one another, nodding their heads in a way that they needed no words to comprehend each other. They touched our pale skins and laughed, their teeth hidden behind their elegant fingers. They smelled us and we could tell our scent was so different from theirs, even after a long drive in a hot car. They took our hands and wanted us to dance along. Our hips were stiff and our movements not any better. It was interesting to see their dark fingers clasped in our white ones. They were honestly very happy to see us. They didn't expect anything from us. Despite their poverty, they seemed happy.
We had brought a big bag of wrapped candy. There were so many young kids present. I wanted to hold every child. They were so beautiful, so playful, so full of life. The older girls continued to sing, while the youngest gathered around us. They were holding hands and their shiny dark eyes were focused on us. There was not enough candy in the bag to provide all of the children. I picked out one piece and handed it to one of the youngest boys, who was a bit shy. He peeked at me through his thick lashes. He smiled. He gave the piece of candy to one of the older girls. She smiled at him and unwrapped the fruittella. She nibbled a tiny piece of one of the corners, before she handed the piece of candy to the next in line. Their eyes were still focused on us. The piece of candy was handed from child to child and every single one of them took no more than a mouse bite. How could I have been so oblivious.. these children were not Western. They were African. They knew about sharing. The mouse bite of candy tasted a whole lot better than a bag full. They taught me a valuable lesson. It's all about the little things in life.
Tjolela moja waha jeso
Tjolela moja waha jeso
We had brought a big bag of wrapped candy. There were so many young kids present. I wanted to hold every child. They were so beautiful, so playful, so full of life. The older girls continued to sing, while the youngest gathered around us. They were holding hands and their shiny dark eyes were focused on us. There was not enough candy in the bag to provide all of the children. I picked out one piece and handed it to one of the youngest boys, who was a bit shy. He peeked at me through his thick lashes. He smiled. He gave the piece of candy to one of the older girls. She smiled at him and unwrapped the fruittella. She nibbled a tiny piece of one of the corners, before she handed the piece of candy to the next in line. Their eyes were still focused on us. The piece of candy was handed from child to child and every single one of them took no more than a mouse bite. How could I have been so oblivious.. these children were not Western. They were African. They knew about sharing. The mouse bite of candy tasted a whole lot better than a bag full. They taught me a valuable lesson. It's all about the little things in life.
Tjolela moja waha jeso
Tjolela moja waha jeso
No comments:
Post a Comment