Tears tend
to flow when we least expect them. Some are adept
at letting them go freely, while some cannot remember
when last they flowed. Tears though, do have a
story behind them, be they crocodile tears, tears of
joy, or just mere eyes that drool out of a sudden
reaction - change in humidity, dust, smoke, and so the
story goes.
The day
Solborg came was
the day I saw more than 1 teardrop: We had the privilege
to visit a girl in the Maisha Mema program and her
mother in Soweto. Out of nowhere while giving her
vote of thanks for the visit, appreciating Maisha Mema
for securing her daughter's education, tears started
flowing. They just had to, especially when she
related how lucky she was to be covered, seeing that she
has recently been sick whilst moving from house to house
for lack of rent... Then came the daughter's tears
when she saw mum's, and all she could say was, "mum was
very sick!" (Tears of the unknown, bearing in mind that
both know about the mother's status - that it is only a
matter of time until the mother is gone).
The
children in Clubhouse had just run through the song in
the previous week's morning gathering. The music
group Westlife turned it into an anthem of sorts.
They sung it just as a by the way, in their line of
duty, like they always see it done when visitors come -
nothing special. The song "You raise me up" lifted
by the words of the innocent, underlined with grit and
grind, soared and rested on hearts, leaving a lifetime
impression. A painting only the recipients will
one day let go off in their death, a song that drew
tears. (The kind that can never be articulated, the kind
that can only be experienced by their owners' hearts,
tears unexplainable).
"You raise me up,
so I can stand on mountains;
You raise me up,
to walk on stormy seas;
I am strong,
when I am on your shoulders;
You raise me up...
to more than I can be"
(Lyrics by
Brendan Graham | Music by Rolf Lovland)
He has taught me patience, took me
through the wire, argued every statement of fact I threw
his way, but also knew his limits. It was and
still is difficult to let him go. Will he be
understood? Will he be just another statistic in
an already crowded educational system? Will he
receive audience for his off-the-mark outbursts?
Will he, will he, will he? ... This boy had had a
bad week. His mum had recently gone cuckoo and was
nowhere to be seen (as far as the boy was concerned).
She never did much, and has always done little to show
affection (not forgetting letting her baby fly in the
wind!), but all he knows, all he cares about is, "as
long as she's there, as long as she's around, I have a
mother!" When the guests came, I bet it was the
perfect chance to let go. Or maybe he felt we
should be "seeing" his predicament in stead of focussing
on outsiders... Of all the days, this was
the day he let the tears flow! (Tears of loyalty,
somewhat on the "I wish..." genre, but tears all the
same).
Then came
the occasional collateral damage of normal day to day
life where a high speed hit and run collision sent a
certain "Mama Africa" (nickname of one of the small
girls in Clubhouse) flying! She was run down by a
huge "Mack of a Truck" (the description another boy in
Clubhouse gave). Of course a little first aid and
a cuddle-hug wiped the tears away, plus some short term
memory, and before long she was in her own cat and mouse
chase game. (Tears come, tears go, tears that all tell
of limits of personal space and respect).
On the way home that day, I was in a
hurry to alight at my bus-stop. No sooner had I
alighted and crossed the road, then the tears welled up
in my eyes. Upon wiping them, came the realisation
that this indeed had been a day full of tears! (Tears
anyway!)
