….From The Chronicles of My Misty Blues

by Ayomide

Angie’s mom called out waving and running towards me from the meeting point as I maneuvered into the visitors’ parking lot. Today, the kids are coming back from a wilderness of 26 days sojourn.  I had counted; same way I’d counted her fingers and toes to be sure they were all correct just a few years ago. Hmmm….how time flies. If I had to lift one of those feet now, sheer common sense will remind me to seek lumbar assistance and support first. She is a big girl now.

The turn out was just as good as when they left. It is 10:15 am, and the run-in is scheduled for 11 am. Parents began filing in, prepared as they would for a picnic. Hats of every shape, texture and color graced their worrisome heads, mine included. Shorts, Tony Bahamas-like shirts, coolers filled with chilled Jamba Juices of all shades and contents; and several liters of iced cold water. The rich parents had gourmet sandwiches and hundreds of Klondike Bar ice cream waiting to be served. How nice and generous of them. Left to my child and I, after the Jamba Juice, corned beef sauce and hot, steaming new yam should be waiting on the stove by the time we arrive home. Keke and Sayo are busy making all that work as I write.

11:35 am, sharp, loud, incessant clapping signaled the near arrival of the first student from the 8-mile run-in. My heart began to pound.  Zeny, one her best friends from Uganda, must have spotted me from afar as she came over to hug me when she arrived. Faithfully, she had been present for the first batch, earlier in the spring as well. She had also been there at 05:30 am that chilly morning the students left for the wilderness. She had brought all items as asked by her friends. Today, as well, she has all kinds of goodies: home baked cookies, juices, water, and other assorted edibles to her mates’ satisfaction. She is such a good kid. She is really lucky. Blessed is more like it.

It’s no surprise then that she insists on spending all her spare time in her Motherland, caring for children at the same orphanage that was her own home for more than five long years. She teaches English in the school. She helps to clean/feed the children. She braids the girls’ hair. She barbs the boys’ hair. She teaches the workers how to listen to the children when they read at night and how not to forget to tell beautiful night stories of their motherland, just in case… She saves all her extra money for those beautiful moments of sharing back home. She ardently competes in games here in the U.S. or organizes fairs and drives in return for donated clothing, books, toys, and money. All her friends participate and they also volunteer at several homes, painting, and serving at homeless shelters… Always in gratitude, always smiling… What a way to pay back! 

About 8 years ago, an American couple, who owns the orphanage in Uganda, had gone there as they have usually done most of their retirement lives. Zeny was only ten and one of several orphans whose parents had died or abandoned, I was told. She would come to their school office and lay on the floor in gratitude for all the couple had done for her people. At night, she would bring her torn mat, lie on the cold floor in waiting, to attend to any demands, commands or requests of the couple. Before the end of one of such trips, the couple asked if she would like to come to America with them. Her adoptive parents had recounted, one day, when we were invited to dinner at their house.

With the Ugandan extended family’s permission, she and her brother became officially adopted and within a year after immigration regularities, they became bonafide Americans. Unbeknownst to her then, this couple is perhaps the wealthiest in this part of Calif. Like the smart kid she is, she caught on to the American way of life very quickly. She attends one of the ritziest schools money can afford here in Calif, and her older brother now attends a university in the U.K. She is graduating high school this year and I’m proud to call her my adopted daughter too. We call her African Queen. She is so beautiful with wavy, long brown hair, leppa features, shinny, flawless brown skin like cocoa butter, a wicked smile and one of the biggest and baddest hugs of all time. 

She had called me after my daughter left to give me courage and remind me that she too experienced the same just a few months prior. That it wasn’t that bad and that Misi would really learn and grow from it. She is right. She’s always been the big sister Misi never had. Such wisdom from my African Queen! How I wish I could share their pictures. All the wealth has not changed her at all. She is so real. She is extremely sophisticated and it comes naturally. She reminds me of Imam, but much prettier. Whenever she misses home, Uganda I mean, she’ll just show up at our house. She says it fulfils her need to see her family, although she now visits Uganda regularly and in fact volunteered in the orphanage this past summer. She visits us so much that she has her own official key to the house, and often times, I’d come home to find her sleeping peacefully in our guest room hugging one or two teddy bears. I would tip toe in, kiss her on the forehead, check-up on Misi too; repeat the same, before turning out all lights and retiring to my room. So, you see, it’s not just my daughter I’m going to miss when they all go to college. It’s Katie, Tee, Angie, Mali, Obinna and so many others. What to do…what…to do??

Tiny, scrawny, long legs made equally long strides on the top of the hill, at the far left side of the sports field. The fresh green field provided the clear contrast needed to discern the legs running down the brown hill assuring us that the students were really coming in, finally. The clapping continued until the first three boys emerged on the green lawn, running breathlessly into the arms of their peers first, before any parent summoned the courage to come forward. They were thin, gaunt looking and I imagined how much weight my daughter would have lost. Lots of hugging all around, crying, serious smelling, and tanned African American and dark Caucasian skin, heavens!!! B.O. (body odor) lent a different definition that day. Everyone must have held their breath for a minute or two. But these are our kids, and who cared if they smell from lack of bathing or proper toilet facilities for the last 26, yep, twenty-six freaking days, in the company of bears, coyotes, clear stream water and God knows what else…. Lots of food offers followed the greetings and this process repeated itself until the last batch made it through.

I’d wondered if anything had happened to her. I’d received no SOS messages... And no news they say is always good news. I know she is no runner although she states otherwise. Later, her excuse was that she had broken both ankles... Possibly so, but what could we have done, cast or no cast, as long as she walked upright without much pain, they would heal in time. Shish!  So, at about 12:20 pm, what appeared to be the last batch of students were running in a single file down the hill towards the sports field. I spotted her with her red shorts, turquoise blouse, red bandana, grayish tennis shoes and my heart pounded faster. I never knew I could be so happy to see anyone in my whole life.

All I saw was her, even though she had her sports-sunglasses on. I could have made her out in the dark. I could…. I love my daughter so much. If anyone has never experienced raising one, please try to do so. Adopt one if you must. It’s not the birth that is the most important in my opinion. It’s the time and memories of their development and idiosyncrasies that matter the most. Those memories are what parents cherish the most, I think. Oluwa a wo wọn pọ o, AMIN (May the good Lord keep them all safe, AMEN).

She hugged Zeny first, and then Tee, and all her other friends, teachers, principal, other parents, and slowly began to make it towards me as I also began to walk towards her, trembling, wringing my hands, biting my lower lip, tears clouding my eyes, as we advanced the short but long stride towards each other. I opened my arms wide as we came a few feet towards each other, and she fell into them. I held all of her, all 145 lbs frame, 5’ 8”, smelly like ….I haven’t defined the odor yet. Maybe soon. She…..uhmmmmm, I think I have a big lump in my throat, pardon me…uhmmmm…she laid her head on my right shoulder, hugged tightly, trembling, crying, as she mumbled…. “I missed you…so much…mommy”…she continued to ramble on but I didn’t care about anything, nothing, but the warmth of her embrace….my smooth Ebony black princess. I exhaled. It will be well with our souls. Thank you my Father in heaven. Thank you for my gift of life.

And, It’s just another day……I will be sleeping very well, soundly, probably snoring, content, for the first time in the last few weeks.....Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh!……what a blessing. Good night everybody.

We will be going to the banquet in their honor tomorrow night….we’ll hear all about their experiences…stay tuned.

Well, it’s been months since I expressed those words. I’m yet to find the courage to settle down and detail those recounted experiences… I may never be able to share them… They are so personal that I have to store them in my heart for now. I’m not ready to let go of them… Suffice it to say, they all grew up, so very quickly, better than they ever were, more responsible, accountable, conscientious, dedicated, and formed unions that will probably last a lifetime… 

Yes, that was months ago….needed to add this to my collection for those who may find the stories interesting.

Last week, Zeny received early acceptance at a top university, her first choice. I pray all goes well so Misi can at least join her in close proximity. Coincidentally, that would be her first choice as well.

One child at a time…

….From The Chronicles of My Misty Blues.

Robot  # 1 | 16.12.2008 07:52

://img365.imageshack.us/img365/2200/mistybluesag74d22676bx4.….From The Chronicles of My Misty Blues by Ayomide Angie’s mom called out waving and running towards me from the meeting point as I maneuvered into the visitors’ parking lot.Today, the kids are coming back from a wilderness of 26 days sojourn. I had counted; same way I’d counted her fingers and toes to be sure they were all correct just a few years ago.Hmmm….how time flies.If I had to lift one of those feet now, sheer common sense will remind me to seek lumbar assistance and support first. She is a big girl now. The turn out was just as good as when they left.It is 10:15 am, and the run-in is scheduled for 11 am.Parents began filing in, prepared as they would for a picnic.Hats of every shape, texture and color graced their worrisome heads,...Read the full article.