There’s a little boy I know named Diallo who only has one pair of faded, worn out clothes. So early one Saturday morning I head to the part of the market when I have seen people selling clothing. Because it is still early, the clothes are not laid out on tarps yet. There are just a few bundles of clothes strapped tightly together. As the first one is cut open and poured out, women are literally on the ground scrambling and pushing and shoving to have first pick.
For the children’s clothes, the woman selling them sits on little stool and piece by piece looks at each item before tossing it onto 1 of 4 piles, by size of the clothing. I join a few other women sitting around watching, going over to a pile when we see something we want. One woman takes it upon herself to help me decide on some good picks. “Ici, c’est joli,” she says smiling, smoothing out a little pink undershirt with flowers. I say thank you but tell her that I’m looking for a boy about 6 months old.
“Ah, oui! Un garçon,” she repeats, although half of the things she continues to pick up to show me are still pink or have ribbons.
As more clothes are thrown onto the piles, a woman with a shawl wrapped around her face picks up a baby bib with a big pocket at the bottom. I try not to laugh as she holds it up to her friend with a questioning look, who responds with a face that shows she is obviously just as confused.
After a few seconds of leaving them in suspense, I attempt to explain the real purpose of this mysterious item of clothing. “C’est pour quand un bebe mange,” I say, “Si il renverse…" I trail off and demonstrate that the pocket can catch the food. Translation: It is for when a baby eats. If he to spill…” (So not perfect French grammar, but they got the message).“Ahh,” both women say in unison, nodding, and their confused looks are replaced with ones that give the message of, “Well, that’s strange.” Shrugging, the woman holding the bib pats it and places it back down on the pile.
It’s moments like these that I feel like God is letting me in on something really special.
These opportunities to reach across a cultural bridge and connect with people from the most different of backgrounds, even if it’s in a really simple way. To step out and choose to see past myself and my own little world and learn something new. God is opening my eyes to see that everyone has a story, and that it’s always worth it to take the time to reach out to other people and to know theirs.
A few days later me and 2 friends that I work with at the clinic, Grandmama and Marceline, hop in the car that belongs to the mission to go visit Diallo and His elderly grandma. Diallo's mother died a few months after he was born, most likely due to complications of AIDS. With the father not in the picture either, this grandma is the only family left to care for both Diallo and his 2 sisters.
There is no one at their home when we arrive, but it's probably a good sign that on this day she has been able to find work washing someone's laundry. Just as we are turning to leave, "Tantiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine!" Auntie! Three little kids are running towards me, even as I try to tell them to slow down. The only reason for this being that the oldest girl, who I'm guessing is around 6 years old, has baby Diallo tied to her back with a faded pagne, the colorful fabric that everyone makes their clothes out of here. As she runs his little head is bouncing up and down behind her small shoulders.
I hug the kids and hold their hands as we walk back to their house. We give them eggs that someone at the clinic gave to us to give to anyone in need. And in a wrapped plastic bag I place a few new clean clothes for Diallo on top. When we walk back to the car we give the kids some little bags of "Chipsy" that I keep in the trunk of the car for whenever we go on family visits. ("Chipsy" is the brand name of a snack company here that makes things like chips, popcorn and peanuts). It's amazing how happy these kids get at the sight of a little bag of popcorn, and I love how this small gift can make their day. I see the kids waving in the rearview mirror as we drive away.
It's special moments like these, just like the morning at the market, that are tying my heart to the people in this country. Visiting with the ones who are going through some hard times, bringing food to people really in need, the joy of knowing that you can do something to make some little kids' faces light up with excitement.
I’m learning that every day, God is inviting us on an adventure, if only we will step across the lines we’ve created for ourselves and allow Him to take us on it. He is able to open our blind eyes to see the opportunities he gives us every day, to love the people around us who are Jesus in disguise.
I can guarantee this truth: Whatever you did for one of my brothers or sisters, no matter how unimportant they seemed, you did for me. -Jesus
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