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.
“I was wondering,” he said. “Have any of you ever heard of Mully Children’s Family?”
CHAPTER
six
There is power in words. Not simply in what is said, but in the assurance behind certain phrases spoken at certain times by certain people that can provide great encouragement. Especially to people in need. Especially to me.
A word spoken at the right time changes everything.
I had never heard of Mully Children’s Family. Yet the simple sound of those three words somehow—somehow—convinced me right to my core that this was a place of hope. How could that be? How was it possible to know in my spirit that this was a good place even though I had never been there? It was just a name. Wasn’t it? Or maybe my inner being was so grasping for any semblance of positive news that no matter what my uncle would have said I would have automatically assumed it was good.
No, it was more than desperate hope. After hearing those words part of me came alive. It was as if I had always been longing to hear them—like this was an appointment that had been set years ago. This was not something that only affected my mind and heart. Those three words spoke right to my spirit. And I knew in the deepest place where any person knows things to be true that this was a place for me.
Mully Children’s Family.
“I have not heard of it,” I said. That was true. But if that were so, why did I have such an unmistakable connection with a place I had never heard of?
“Let me tell you,” he said, hardly able to contain himself. “I work at Mully Children’s Family. It is a home with hundreds of children. And it is run by a man named Charles Mulli.”
I felt a rush of peace come over me. For the first time in a long while I felt I could breathe again. Like