So the children were fed and eager to play. The "football" players and volleyball players were also ready for their chance to show off. Fikadu asked if we were up for the walk and we knew the boys' home was just a 5 minute walk up the street. We also knew they had a big, grass, front yard to play in so readily agreed to go.
The children fought over the opportunity to hold my hand. One boy held my right hand and the girl that usually had it pushed him aside which was quite a feat given her size compared to his. He would not stand for it and pushed back while clenching my hand firmly to insure being shown up like that again would not happen. I shook the children off both of my hands. I told the boy that he was older and that he could play with my camera while she held my hand. He didn't speak much English at all but his eyes lit up as I passed my camera to him. The girl was crying at this point and I bent down to hug her telling her that I had enough love to go around. She held my hand. The usual girl held my other hand. The boy pushed the buttons on my camera to flip through the pictures I had taken so far on the trip. We all began to walk as a group.
As we walked down the emensly rocky road the children would ask me to "sing English". And we would take turns singing songs to eachother. Periodically, they would recognize the tune though the words they did not, and sing the same song in their language. Funny how when languages could devide people that music connects, and ultimatly, God keeps us connected. They love the same Lord that I love. For that reason, there is already a given understanding.
As we walked, the boys home was on the right. But no one was turning into it. I was confused, but went along with the group. Fikadu was walking faster than our hand-holding-string of 5 plus kids. As he passed, I stopped him. I asked if we were going the right way. He said we were. Then, the boy with the camera was SO EXCITED about the camera and kept telling me "thank you" over and over so I was concerned that the boy thought that I had given him the camera. I asked Fikadu to tell him that he was only looking at the pictures. Fikadu did, then looked at me as though I was a bit crazy for thinking that to begin with and shrugged his shoulders while saying, "yeh, he knows." I was relieved and then just amazed that looking at the back of a digital camera was just that special for him.
WE walked. We went passed all the homes. 20 minutes had gone by. We were now headed down a hill with a canal that had been cut through it by the rains. It was grass covered and had power poles here and there. 10 more minutes passed. We were at the bottom and could see "the fields". This was not at all what I had expected. This was an area for grazing and irrigation. Donkeys and cattle were all about. There were no goals, no nets. There were holes from some kind of burrowing animal that were just right to twist an ankle in, and they were everywhere. The kids walked faster as we got closer. They were obviously excited. The boys in the lead began to run to their field and called the best spot as theres. A game of "street home kids" vs "boys home kids" broke out upon our arrival.
At this point, my string of kids was approaching. Some of the staff had taken a seat in the grass to watch the kids play and get off their feet. The boy with my camera handed it back to me, pointed to the camera, then promptly posed on the lawn. I have attached this picture. He had obviously seen this before since he could not have practiced in mirrors that don't exist and it was really cute.
Now a girl I had promised to play volleyball with hit me the ball. The "camera boy" joined in. We bumped the ball back and forth though it was obvious that no one had ever taught them how to do it properly. 3-4 hits without it hitting the ground was a record. We had barely begun playing when a girl I had promised to play soccer with interrupted. Fikadu helped us set up the "playing field" since some cattle were in the more ideal spot to play. I was relieved when he turned our field from end-to-end to side-to-side... this would save me when it came to running. And boy did I run. It was all girls playing and they were surprisingly good. All girls, except my "camera boy". He did not want to play with the boys. He just wanted to be by me. He started as my goalie and then relieved me 20 minutes into it as I found myself gasping for every breath.
We played and played. The staff headed back and we just played. Fikadu was reffing the all boy game and periodically we would hear a cheer. No one from either girl team scored. Kind of funny, huh? The sun was starting to set. The children had not had dinner. Neither had we and we had no fruit or cake because of our "only cooked food" rule. It would be a long walk back.
I had more fun than I can describe. I was a child playing with children. I was in love with their energy. Their smiles. Their willingness to give all that they had, and that was just themselves. I walked back more full than I had been in years. Sad, I know. My children give me themselves every day. So does my husband. But it is not all that they have to give and so it feels different. It is amongst their struggles of "my do" " I want" or "What a day..." and so it feels different. These children were so longing for a mother like figure to play with. To hold their hands. To hug them and tell them how special they are. They valued the time like no child I have ever seen and I valued it because of that, too. I knew that saying goodbye would be near impossible.
On the long walk back, the boy with the camera points behind to Nettie. He says "Netzanette. Go America?" I nodded and said "Yes." He looks down ," I go, with you." My heart broke right there. How could I explain to this child that if I could, I would steal him up right then but that it just wasn't that simple. " I can't. You have to do a lot of papers and pay a lot of money. It is not easy. " I knew his broken English barely caught a word I said but that he knew the answer was no. He just looked down. The girl holding my left hand looked up to me, "Than take me." They just couldn't understand. And I just couldn't explain it to them. How could I explain something that I didn't fully understand myself and I was deeply saddened.
We kept walking. God provided us with a donkey that was peeing right next to us and we all laughed. The kids began to try and teach me words in Amharic. Now that must have been funny because the donkey peeing was just the start of the laughter. Each word started a whole new bound of giggles.
So- I saw their talents. I played with them. I walked with them, talked with them, and loved them. What more can I say?
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