Читать книгу Hannah’s Hope - Paul H Boge - Страница 12

CHAPTER

five

I had a hard time deciding.

I wondered if I should gather the courage to commit to a dream that had been growing in my heart. Or should I just dismiss it as the fanciful wishes of a girl in a desperate situation? Dreams are fine. But dreams can be dangerous if we are not sure where they have come from. They can become idols that are not possible to reach, and we can trick ourselves into thinking we are designed for something that we were never meant to achieve. Yet in my heart, right at my very core, I sensed a deep conviction.

I had seen so much suffering. The passing of my parents and my twin sister caused me so much grief, so much worry, that the very thought of talking about it, or even needing to, had completely escaped me.

I could not get my parents back. I could not get my twin sister back. That much I knew. And I had grown wise enough to resist the temptation of wishing for a different past. Still, if I was not to be spared the pain of losing so much, then perhaps I could be used to help spare someone else from losing so much. What could I do to intervene in the life of someone else to spare him or her the grief I had to endure?

Life could have been so different if my parents and sister had lived, like the way a football game changes in a close match when the ball strikes the post and goes in instead of bouncing back. And if I was honest, I knew that medical intervention could have saved them. My sister and parents would have still been there had there been medical help and healthy food.

I stood outside our hut looking out at the distant horizon, at that place far away where the land meets the sky. Thinking. Praying. Wondering.

Forget it! This is impossible!

But it is on my heart.

So what? Look at your schooling.

I can accomplish it.

You will never make it.

Yes, I will. I refuse to believe that it cannot be done.

You will eventually give up.

No. I will not. I will not dishonour them. I have the faith to believe the impossible.

And how will this happen exactly? … You see. You don’t know.

I don’t have to know. I have faith.

I did not want to see past my own hurts. I did not want to pretend they did not exist. I wanted to use them. I wanted to use the experiences I had to pass through for the benefit of others. I could not undo what had been done. I could not help my own past. Neither could I help the pasts of others. But what about the future?

What if I could be used to help others like me? What if I could help prevent their pain? What if there was a way that I could be used to intervene in people’s lives, children’s lives, to prevent them from having to go through what I went through? What would they need? How could I serve them?

And it was at that moment that I decided I wanted to become a doctor.

Part of me wanted to believe against all odds that this dream would become reality. That I could become a doctor. That I could break free from the shackles of poverty to do for others what was not done for me.

But the other part of me was afraid to believe. Afraid that a poor girl without parents or money would not have any chance to go to school. I was afraid of the hard work involved and that I would only prove to myself I was a failure. If I chased this dream and it did not work, I would never again have the luxury of escaping my life through the belief that dreams could come true.

These two voices collided inside my head.

I can do it. I can become a doctor. I can learn skills to heal the sick.

Impossible. You? A doctor? Why don’t you pretend to become a princess or a billionaire or an astronaut while you are at it?

It can happen.

Sure, it can happen. And maybe the world will stop spinning. Maybe the sun will turn blue. Maybe all the animals in Africa will grow wings and start to fly. Get this clear in your mind: giraffes will fly before you become a doctor. And elephants, too.

It is in my heart. And I have a passion for helping others. For seeing them become better.

That is admirable. Really it is. Everyone should want that. But not everyone can do something about it. You are one of them. Rich children do good things like that. Poor children do not.

That is not true.

But it is. You have no money. No money means no school. No school means no university. No university means not becoming a doctor. This is not about being cruel. It is only about being realistic. And your dream is not realistic.

But it is. I know that it is. Somehow there will be a way. And I will be used to help others. I don’t care about money.

The school sure will.

I don’t care about the odds.

A thousand rich children in Kenya are all ahead of you.

And I don’t care about dreams being achievable or not. What is in my heart will be real. And I pray to God that He will make it so.

It felt strange. Awkward, really. To suddenly have a vision. A goal. A dream. It was like wearing someone else’s shoes. It felt too big, and yet it felt part of me.

That evening I lay down on my sheet on the floor. I listened to the sounds of Africa at night. I heard the crickets chirping. They sounded like a symphony of a large number of musicians providing a loud sound that seemed to alternate between one side of our hut to the other. I heard the occasional grebe bird calling out, like it was looking for a friend. I smiled when I heard an owl hooting. They lived the opposite time compared to us. I could not imagine sleeping during the day and being awake all night. Their sounds comforted me, as if they were echoing the desires of my heart. Normally I would have been able to fall asleep listening to them, but that evening I found it difficult. I lay on my side with my head resting on a small pillow. How was I going to get enough money to get through school and university? Grandmother was able to convince the teacher to let me in for free, but how long would that last? For my entire schooling? What happens when a young girl in Kenya has a big dream and no means to reach it?

I felt the gentle calm that comes with beginning to drift off to sleep. It was as if someone were there beside me, laying their hand on my forehead.

I heard a knock at the door.

I recognized it.

Grandmother went to answer. But even before she reached the door, I knew who would be standing there. The knock was so quiet and playful. It could only be one person.

Grandmother opened it. There stood a medium-sized man with a kind, gentle demeanour. He laughed and raised his eyebrows. It was as if he brought a gust of wind with him wherever he went that created joy. I felt good when I saw him. I always did.

“Uncle Raza,” I said as I stood.

“Hello, hello, hello. How are you?” He hugged me, then reached out to hug Zemira, who ran up to him. “I would like to know, how is it that you two girls keep getting bigger and bigger each time I see you? I thought we had talked about you staying exactly the same height from here on in? Why are you getting so tall?”

“That’s because we’re growing!” Zemira said.

“Growing? How high will you grow? Even taller than me?”

Zemira smiled and nodded her head.

“Really?” he continued. “Well then, I will be the one to look up to you!”

We all laughed. He reached down to tickle us. We giggled as we squirmed in his arms. Grandmother invited him in. He sat down on the end of the couch, Zemira and I beside him. Grandmother offered him chai tea to drink, which he politely declined. He must have been thirsty. Even though it was evening, it was still hot, and with the long walk there he must have needed something to quench his thirst, but he would not take from us. Not anything. He was not one who took things.

“I would like to share some news with you,” he said as he looked at Zemira and me.

Did he find a new job? Did he have a new place for us to live?

“I have been thinking a lot about you two and what kind of a future you will have. You are in school, but I wonder for how long.”

I wondered the same thing.

“Your wonderful sister Leah and your parents are no longer with us. And you have many basic needs. Food, clothing, shelter, education. Grandmother is doing the very best she can.” He looked up at her in a way that conveyed that he admired and respected her self-sacrifice for us. “But it is quite a large burden. And you both have so much potential.”

I became curious about where all of this was leading. His honesty made it easy to see the excitement he had in sharing what was on his heart. And I wondered what it was.

“There will be many challenges. And without parents, it will be difficult for you two girls to advance much further. It is not much of a life, but …”

I held my breath. The hut became quiet. If the birds were still making noises outside, I no longer heard them.

“But things can be different,” he said.

I waited in silence. I suddenly believed that he held a key to unlock the door to a brand-new future. But how? What was so urgent that he had to come this late in the evening? What was so important that it could not wait until morning? I wondered what he was going to bring us. And while it may have only taken a moment for him to continue, for two young girls hanging on his every word it felt like a long time.

I watched his excited eyes. I felt hope rising with each second inside the hut. It was like a balloon that gets bigger and bigger and you wonder when it is going to explode. I waited for him to deliver the news.

And then it came.