So simple this. A group of us were walking to a store that sells rice. Lydia wants to give good quality rice to the families of the kids she supports. We deliver it tomorrow morning, and it will be much appreciated.
We were strolling down the back streets of Toubacouta. And two of Lydia’s kids were with us. I was struggling to learn their names and suddenly the boys stopped. One of them picked up a stick and drew “Ali” in the sand. Then the other fellow grabbed the stick and drew “Aziz”. So there we have it … the names of my new friends.
As we walked on, Ali took my left hand and Aziz the right. For the first time in my life, I believe, I felt like “dad”. Words cannot express the joy that flooded through me. An astonishing experience. I know I would have been a good dad and today, for a few minutes, I got to live beyond the yearning for fatherhood. Such a fortunate man I am.
Back at Lydia’s home, Aziz sat beside me at the table and let his arm touch mine. Oh my. Time stood still.
There’s something astonishing happening in Toubacouta. A Canadian fellow is experiencing love flowing, from within and from without. It’s a gift beyond my dreams.
What does this all mean? I feel a supreme opening of the heart – beyond language, beyond skin colour, beyond environment. I am blessed.
Goodnight, my friends. I await the drums.
2 thoughts on “Day Eleven Some More: Hands”
Life in Senegal is awesome, Petra. Actually life is awesome.