Like most things in Africa that can easily be lost in translation or concealed in a culture I simply do not understand, Mbali’s story is vague yet tragic. The importance of background details quickly fade when the cold hard facts sink in like a heavy stone in the pit of your stomach.
Severely abused since she was an infant. Malnourished.
Parents gave her away.
Enough can be understood beyond the ramblings of who she now lives with and that she’s been attending pre-school at El Shaddai for two years now. Put aside the fact that there’s little hope she’ll ever move on from pre-school, and she’s now 7 years old.
She is a pre-schooler. She is not an orphan yet God has brought her to El Shaddai as a student.
But it goes much deeper than that. Much deeper.
Her name is Mbali. The letter m is simply a forethought that never comes to fruition on your tongue when you pronounce it. Bah-lee.
The tallest girl in pre-school. Beautiful burnt sienna complexion stretched over prominent cheekbones and a dainty jawline that only sharpens when she manages to curl her mouth into a smile. Dimples. Short curly dark hair. Super cute.
But then there are her eyes. They sink far beneath her lids and seem carved deep into her face and almost concave.
Most of the time they are empty.
Lifeless. She looks hungry – because she is.
Her eyes do not dart with mischief or even smile or seem remotely alert during class for that matter. Her head sometimes turns to look at us the first day we arrive. Her eyes become fixed and in them I see many questions.
Chocolate orbs that blink and stare filled with many questions which penetrate my heart with one glance.
Hard questions I have to ask myself. Hard questions that make me want to cry and ask God: why?
Why on so many levels. Why?
PS: It’s true what you’ve heard. For less than an American dollar a day, you can feed a child in these countries. As a matter of fact, the average Swazi family survives on about 40 cents per day.
