Slept pretty well, considering how fast my brain was
spinning last night.
The kids disappeared down the footpath, off to school for
their placement tests. Edem showed up when we finished our egg sandwiches and
asked John, Mauwli, and me if we wanted to go with him to see the school. Leave the compound? In the middle of the day?! Yes please!
 |
| Gabi Primary School |
We made our way down the footpath, down a small dirt road,
and onto the main paved road. I
had no idea the school was less than a 3 minute walk away, which is a testament
to how little I’ve left the compound to explore. Sitting practically a block away from the home is the
cluster of peach and brown painted cement buildings surrounding a yard with a
big old tree and a cute little playground. The Gabi Primary School. John and I smiled as we crossed the main road, watching all
the children in their peach and brown school uniforms play in the yard. By the time we made it half way across
there were dozens of children gaping back at us. Like bees to honey.
We tried our best to follow Edem through the ever growing swarm. The little darlings followed us, some
daring to reach out and touch our hands.
 |
| Gabi Primary School student |
One exceptionally brave little girl ran up, placed her
little fingers on my arm as high as she could reach, and slid her hand down to
my wrist before running away. If
she didn’t actually run away shrieking “I touched one! I touched one!,” she might as well
have. This ogling and touching
wouldn’t have been so bad if I wasn’t so self-conscious about my skin these
days. The tropical heat had caused
the eczema on my hands to turn from its’ usual dry, flaky patches into spots of
weird honeycombs of clear liquid puss deep under my skin. It’s not like my entire hand and
fingers are covered, but there are enough patches of it that it didn’t go
unnoticed. One girl spotted a
bumpy bit and pointed at it, looking at me inquisitively. I grabbed my disgusting, puss bubble
covered finger, and shook my head.
I’m not sure what she wanted me to say, but I certainly couldn’t explain
to her that the climate was affecting my dry skin in a weird way and that no,
not all yavo’s have skin bits that look like they’re cooking at a low simmer.
Just then Edem disappeared into a room and some of the kids
started to sing at us; “Yavo yavo, Bon Soir! Yavo yavo, Bon Soir!” The connotation of the word and the
song is still unclear to me, so the singing, not to mention the swarming, made
me a little agitated. The touching
and the singing. Singing and
touching. Giggling and singing and
stolen touches. Looks of awe. Looks of skepticism. Looks of skepticism and singing and
touching. John and I exchanged
overwhelmed looks, and Edem appeared again.
He had stopped in to see the principal for the placement
test results and he was NOT happy with our kids’ performance. Only Minua passed into the next grade-
she’ll be in class 6 now. The two
oldest boys, Justice and Elikplim, took their tests for JSS5 (Junior High), and
what will happen next is a little unclear. I think we know
Justice passed, but we wait until Friday to hear about Elikplim. They’ll go to school on Monday,
whichever grade that turns out to be, but for now they come back to the home
with us. Edem wisked us away from
the throngs as expertly as a bodyguard at an Elvis concert and we made our way
back to the home.
After lunch John and I took Minua, Juliet, and Ernestina to
the market. Ernestina’s plastic
flip-flops had worn completely through at her heel on both pairs. When we found a flip-flop vendor I let
her choose her own. Shyly, she
picked a red pair and put them on.
She looked so adorably pleased with herself the rest of the day. Best $0.50 I’ve ever spent. John got a light bulb, some phone
credits for Sonjelle’s phone, and tried to get a cell phone charger for his own,
but somehow it was confusing and it got complicated so we gave up and went
home.
On the way home Minua mentioned that tomorrow is Elikplim’s
birthday. We asked what they do to
celebrate birthdays, and none of them had ever celebrated a single one. Imagine! No birthday parties!
I mean, I guess it’s silly of me to think that everyone has a birthday
party like I was used to as a child.
If you have holes in your flip-flops and you can’t always count on
someone feeding you dinner every night, you probably don’t get a pool party at
the YMCA with pizza and a towering pile of brightly wrapped gifts.
John and I plotted (we could certainly spring for a few
bunches of bananas and a pineapple or two), ran the idea past Sonjelle, and
told the kids we’d have a small party the next day. They were beyond psyched and spent the rest of the day
making paper decorations and confetti and cleaning the common room.
During all the commotion, just before dinner, some of the
boys hollered to us to come and look at the bath house. When we rounded the corner, there was
Gabriel crouching under the faucet, which he had managed to turn on, giving
himself a bath just like the big kids.
He just decided he was old enough to give himself a bath, so he did! Standing there, next to Sonjelle and
John and all the kids, all smiling and laughing, my heart tightened and floated
up into my throat. I don’t know
why it affected me as much as it did.
Getting to see a “first” for Gabriel. All of us, together.
The kids, wanting to share the moment with us, and all of us feeling
proud. Like a family.
No comments:
Post a Comment