Today as I walked through the market a small hand was placed into mine. These little fingers gently grabbed onto my skin. I looked down, this hand was so small and dirty. It looked so different from my large, white, clean hand. I looked back at the face attatched to the hand. He couldn't have been more than 3 1/2 years old, dirty and torn clothing, no shoes.
This is a common occurrence at the market. Children are sent by their parents to beg for money. It's not because I'm white, just that I'm a person that they put their hand in mine.
I recognized the face. I stopped and knelt down. A little girl, with the same appearance came up. I said hello then asked them their names. The little girl giggled. It could be that I was speaking in Kirundi or it could be that I was looking at her and talking directly to her. The boy said, Steven. Her name was Bella.
Mom and Steven had a conversation about 2 weeks ago when they were here. I told him I remembered him. Bella again giggled. I tickled her belly a little and she continued to laugh.
Part of me wishes I will never see them again. That will mean that they will be in school or be cared for by their parents, not having to work on the streets. Another part of me wishes that I will get see them again. They were so cute, still full of joy. Next time I think I will give them a hug.
It's hard to cope with Burundi realities but I have to find the joy and humanness in it all or I would fall to pieces every time I go to the market and see such hopeless situations.
Lord please protect and guard Steven and Bella. May they one day change the future of Burundi for your glory. Amen
Wow,have you thought about writing a book. You are really getting profound in your literary observations. It really touched my heart. Thanks for the glimpse of your life. Sharon
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