Mwanaidi,
I remember the moment I met you. I had never seen a more sullen five year-old. Eyes that showed despair unlike anything I would ever understand and pain beyond your years. You hadn’t asked for anything, you could barely muster a word through your grief. It was then I uncovered my first mission; to make you smile.
I waited patiently until you returned to school, checking to ensure your Aunt stopped hitting you long enough for you to walk to Cheti. There you were, attempting to learn English, holding back the memories of loosing your parents to HIV and the absolute discomfort you felt from bruises and scars. I held your hand and promised I would be there for you. I sat with you while you tried to get through addition and watched as you slowly began to speak with the other school children again.
You were smiling. I had finally made you smile. I persuaded Zuma to take you to the clinic in the city to be tested. We rode with your Aunt and several other children in the dalla dalla into Arusha together… you sitting on my lap staring outside in wonder. I heard you scream during the test and sat alongside Zuma as the doctor read your results. You were positive.
Zuma spent the walk home trying to convince your Aunt that God would not forgive her if she continued to hurt you and that you must be taken care of given your health conditions. She ignored his remarks as she felt you were a tainted burden to her, not a gift from God as I saw you. I spent the walk home trying not to cry in front of you. Holding your hand and skipping along the dirt-ridden streets, I prayed to God that there was hope.
I brought you lunch everyday as your Aunt did not pay for porridge and it killed me to watch you sit, hungry while all the other children ate. It wasn’t much, and looking back it wasn’t enough.
My last day at Cheti, I walked into your classroom, greeted with the normal “good morning teacher” melody. You heard me and jumped around the corner to give me your now usual, gorgeous smile. I tried to have Teacher Ellie translate to you that I was leaving, that it was my last day but that I would always love you regardless of the distance between us. I don’t think you understood. How could you?
Broken hearted, I left you. I never wanted to have to say goodbye… but I have been following you through photos and saw you happy, dancing and playing. I felt for sure there was an angel watching as so many other volunteers began to care for you.
But now you are gone. You were never given a chance to dream. All you ever wanted was happiness. The evils that haunted your little life have finally won. But little do they know, they gave you peace at last.
You will now live forever amongst the angels of the world and in all the hearts that you have touched. You will be my mission forever; to give that chance to smile to more little girls just like you that deserve far more than what life handed. I will forever love you...
