There he was, pants less. His rich ebony skin glistening in the sun and snot resting above his lips. His face and limbs were covered in that same snot, dried and mixed with the red African dirt. The sounds of the other kids laughing and screaming “mzulu” seemed to vanish into the distance. All I saw was this little boy staring back at me, assumedly not knowing what to think of this new mzulu girl. I smiled. He backed up.
I still didn’t know his name. He must have been not quite two. He had seemed slightly adventuress as he would move in closer at times but his unsureness would take over as I inched towards him and he would turn in retreat. This went on for several minutes.
I started acknowledging the other kids as I realized they were hanging on my arms and tugging on my once clean skirt. I would sing to them as they clung to my legs and swing them around as they climbed, never forgetting to look back and smile as hard as I could at my now encroaching friend from before.
He came up to me finally after seeing several of the older kids making it out of my arms alive and happy. He just stood there, staring. I knelt down and put out my hand as to receive something from him. He looked at, looked at me. And then, as if not sure if I would be hot or cold, he gently tested my hand by bouncing his on and off mine several times. When he was quite sure his hand wouldn’t fall off he left it there. And there we were, me squatted and him, brave as ever, hand on hand.
We stayed like that a good minute or two until I decided I couldn’t take all that cuteness in any longer and I pulled him in. I hugged him. He simply stared. I told him he was the sweetest. He looked me up and down. I told him he was loved as I started to poke and tickle his, too large for his body, tummy. He squirmed, paused and looked at me. And then it appeared. He smiled.
His smile was one that could light up a room. It was large and invaded my thoughts as if I had dreamt about this smile for years. His lips curved ear to ear. His teeny bright whites glistening. It then faded to a stoic look.
That look showed me a motion picture of hard times and hungry days. I thought to myself, that might be most days, but that’s not this day. So I reignited the tickling machine and box of tricks I hide up my sleeve for such occasions and we were back on.
We spent a few hours like this, me and him. And then it was lunch time and as he ate I noticed his smile was no longer on his face, it was on mine.
(Internet here wouldn’t let me load a pic but there’s one of him on my Facebook page!)
