He is a young teenage boy with a lighthearted manner and an air of charm.
Swinging a stick around in the air, with a quick, engaging smile on his face, he briefly makes eye contact with me, then promptly drops his gaze. He says something, but his voice trails off, so I am unable to decipher his words. I ask him to repeat it. He looks up and boldly speaks, “I’m going to ask you just one question…” (his broken English method of asking permission). I smile encouragingly for him to continue.
“Why are you sad today?”
I’m taken aback. I’ve been helping him herd goats for the past two hours. We’ve laughed, danced, and jokingly conversed during that time. How did he see the heaviness of my heart through that? While I am a highly emotional person (I live in the heights and the depths), I am in control of my emotions. I thought I was quite adept at hiding my emotions. Okay, well, maybe I’m not that great at it. But, I would pride myself on at least being able to hide heaviness of heart from a thirteen-year old boy. I mean, we had been catching grasshoppers so as to fry and eat them later.
Yet, he asked me, “Why are you sad today?”
A long pause, tears threaten to fill my eyes, for this young man had just disarmed me with a single heartfelt question.
(me) “I’m missing someone I love. Have you ever felt this?”
(him) “Yes. Sometimes, I miss my father. I’m sad you are sad.”
And then, the tears threatening to fall came. Such honesty. Such vulnerability. Such compassion. With simple questions and simple responses, hearts opened and a bond was formed.
He is a young teenage boy with a lighthearted manner, an air of charm, and a heart full of tenderness and compassion.
After the brief exchange, he sprinted off quickly to rein in a wandering goat. When he returned, we resumed catching grasshoppers, dancing to Justin Bieber, and debating whether or not we were going to practice the multiplication tables that day (a running debate- he always thinks we shouldn’t, I always think we should).
Hours later, while reflecting, I am astonished, once again, at the beauty of the exchange. No tentative asking of the question; no properly formulated response. No hiding of the true emotion; no hesitation upon seeing the pain. There was reciprocation instead of silence, empathy instead of information gathering. He entered into my story, as I entered into his. We witnessed each other’s sorrow and let it be.
He is a young teenage boy with a lighthearted manner, an air of charm, a heart full of tenderness and compassion who has touched my heart and inadvertently shown me beautiful, holy truth.
His name is Bulande and he is my Mozambican little brother.
