It comes when we aren't
expecting. Slithering through crevices of doubt and expectations. A little
thing like the pattering of plastic soles on concrete, white wide smiles and a
name yelled in delight. Joy. Three letters reaching up to the top line and
swoop underneath as it's written over and over on my paper of thoughts. Joy.
I've been blessed in this season of Ashenda to have joy's light come into my
occasionally mundane life. Ashenda is a holiday to celebrate Saint Mary's love
of children. The Friday before (_21 August _) is known as Hoya Hoya, a day to
celebrate boys. They go around chanting with torches blazing to collect coins.
Ashenda,Saturday, is for girls to dress up, have beautiful braids and go around
singing to collect their coins. In a way it is similar to Halloween, except it
takes place during the day. Dresses and braids will stay in place until the
following Sunday which is a holiday for Saint Mary.
Ashenda can be a stressful and
unnerving time. A surplus of children are suddenly everywhere asking for money.
Being on good terms with the children already (and being white) I'm an easy target. But, in the midst of flocks/gaggles of
children, joy comes in.
On Ashedena, I stayed home, in my compound most of the
day. The girls still found me. I gave them lollipops instead of money and they
laughed at the difference. After awhile I decided to brave it and go for a
short walk. I got swarmed. Some yelling for twirls others for money. Then a
couple of the boys asked to run. Alright, we ran. Sprinted.
I'm not sure why
those boys wanted to run with me. Maybe they got me confused with my site mate
who runs more often then I do, but whatever the case it was an unexpected joy.
Running with a large gaggle of kids, skirt flapping, boys wanting to go faster,
girls wanting to hold hands was odd, unexpected, fabulous. Adults laughed and
called out as we went by. We ran out to the edge of town, before turning back.
Completely unexpected, exhausting, exhilarating joy.
Yesterday (Monday) I ventured to one of my Peace Corps
buddy's site where I'd never been before. I knew how to get there, but was not sure
what to expect on the buses or after. Unexpected joy met me. On the bus, I sat
between an older woman and man that loved my Tigrigna and were very pleased
that I was a volunteer to teach English. While my friend did give me directions
to his house upon arrival, I did get lost and even more so by kids who thought
they were taking me to his house, but really lead me halfway through town.
However, the kids were kind, laughable, and eager to walk by the hand (two
fingers a kid to make more room) to find my friend.
Joy comes from strangers and good
friends. In simple moments of walking down a road or in drinking tea with
doughnuts (bumbalinos).
Today (Tuesday) I took breaks from embroidering to
play with kids in my compound. Jump rope can be so much fun! We did all sorts
of things that I used to do in elementary school, but haven't done in ages.
Why? Why do we grow up away from the simple joy of jump rope or sidewalk chalk?
I've opened up some of the latter for kids to use as they want. They just have
to return the box when they are done and keep it out of the rain. The simple
beauty of children's sidewalk art gives joy in the thunderstorms.
The rain is
pattering and dribbling outside. The sidewalk pictures are smearing away. The
stars are hidden. I'm wrapped up in a purple fuzzy blanket from someone I've
never met, but cared enough to send me warmth and joy. Joy. It comes in
unexpected ways at unpredicted times. Sometimes the pauses between instances
are large and other times they are right on top of each other. But joy does
come.
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