Little bird

I saw Aissa in the market today. She was walking toward me, her bottom lip sticking out, her chin lowered just a little. She tends to pout when she doesn’t get her own way, she has become a bit spoiled during her time with us, perhaps someone didn’t give her something she wanted?

She had sand on the side of her face, and I brushed it away and stood with her for a moment. Were the other kids unkind to her? Did they push her down? She doesn’t understand my Fulfulde and I don’t understand her Mufu so actually verbalizing my thoughts was not possible. I simply took her hand and led her with me into the market. I stroked her now wooly head of hair, growing back after it was last shaved, and bought a sprite for me and a cookie for her.

We then walked to my office, she knows the way well. As I followed her down the crowded hallway to the door with my name on it, I wondered how much of this she would remember when she grew up? Would she remember the nice white woman who smiled at her and stroked her neck and bought her a treat? Would she remember calling out my name “Sadatou!” and cheerfully skipping up to me? Would she remember how we loved her? I hope so.

We entered my office, she slipped off her Mickey Mouse sandals and I lifted her onto the table. Hefted is more like it, this girl is solid! She has had no trouble packing on the pounds since arriving! I checked her ears and she watched my face, gauging my reaction. She has a habit of doing this, reading faces when she is being examined or having her dressing changed. She peeks at you out of the corner of her eye with a slightly worried expression, at least until you look straight at her and smile, then her face lights up, she knows all is well.

My exam finished, she hops off the table, mon petit oiseau (my little bird) as I have nicknamed her. Always chirping and singing the visit seems to have lifted her spirits and she walks to the door, smiling.

And I close it after her, with a smile.