I have always been told that the hearts of children are amazing things. But since I spend very little time with people under the age of 13, I don’t often have the opportunity to experience this first hand. On Friday, because pretty much everyone from all the other teams were headed here, there, and everywhere, my team, Aletheia, was left to cover the Children’s Home for the day. Still slightly terrified of the babies (or more accurately, the stuff that comes out of them), I opted to hang out with the older children outside.
The boys were shooting hoops, and Jeff and I were cheering them on. Suddenly one of the boys comes up to me and tugs on my hand. I was at first, rather surprised. I thought children were supposed to recognize ‘kid people’ and stick to them. Since I don’t generally fall into that category, I assumed I would simply have the role of supervisor and safety director. Hence the hand-grabbing was unexpected.
A sweet face, complete with a crooked-toothed grin, looks up at me, ball in hand, and says “Tita, this one for you!” Tita (pronounced Teet-ah) means Aunty in Tagalog. All of us World Racers are referred to by children everywhere as Tita and Tito (uncle), followed by our names if the kids know them.
This one for me? What is this kid talking about? Suddenly it clicks. He is dedicating his basketball shot to me. I am pretty sure that I went into a brief moment of something akin to shock. This boy lives in an orphanage. He has to share everything, all the time with his 40 siblings here. Almost nothing is ‘his.’ They practically don’t know the meaning of the word ‘Mine’ (I will save the lengthy commentary about how ‘Mine’ is the most popular word among American children). He has almost nothing. But he has his talent, and his skill with a basketball. And he chooses to dedicate his skill to me. Talk about humbling. I heard his yell of “Tita! For you!” over and over that afternoon, soon followed by “Tita Angi! This one for you!” Noel is a special young man who will forever have a place in my heart.
