In the stillness of morning I sit in my living room. The lights are out and my husband is sound asleep in our bedroom. The sky outside is just beginning to be edged with light. It’s one of my favorite times to write and I sit in the company of the stories of the students at Restore Leadership Academy. I’m editing and revising, marrying their written pieces with the notes I took from our one on one interviews.
One particular story grips me today. It’s the story of a girl who was never expected to be born, the story of a girl with a heart that beats for the orphaned girls all over the world. This is Beatrice’s story.
Uganda is called the Pearl of Africa and as I sit with Beatrice’s words spread out on the carpet around me, I can’t help but feel the weight and truth of that name. Natural pearls are born when an irritant like a piece of sand or a broken bit of shell works its way into an oyster, or more rarely a clam or mussel. As a defense mechanism the mollusk secretes layer after layer of a crystalline fluid called nacre that coats the irritant and turns what was once a broken bit of shell or an insignificant piece of sand into a lustrous pearl.
Beatrice (Photo courtesy of Colin Higbee)
Beatrice is smart, kind and has a quick wit that had me smiling at something new each day I spent with her. Did I mention she’s a poet? Beatrice is a girl cut of my own heart.
I met Beatrice when I was sitting behind a hut on the Restore Leadership Academy campus. I was flicking through yearbook photos on my camera when she and two friends sat down near me.
“Hi. What are you girls up to? No class right now?”
“We want to have a discussion.” Beatrice said.
“Oh, let me move out of your way so you can have some privacy.” I began to collect my things, wanting to respect their space.
“No, we want to have a discussion with you.” Beatrice laughed.
“Oh, okay.” I blushed, feeling silly that I didn’t understand the first time around. ”What should we discuss?”
“California.” Beatrice said decisively.
Our conversation began with California, delved into this crazy book project that brought me to Uganda and then sunk down deep when brave Beatrice began to share her story.
Beatrice was born to a mother with special needs, a woman who cannot think or speak on her own. It’s not known how Beatrice’s mother came to be pregnant or who Beatrice’s father is. Even her mother cannot give voice to how it came to pass that she grew this child inside her. I shudder imagining how the pregnancy began and yet, my arms prickle with goosebumps that such an amazing life began with such an unlikely start.
Beatrice and her mother were raised by her grandmother and her Uncle Angelo, a man who loved to read, a man who tells Beatrice with assurance that she is a blessing to this world. In writing about her Uncle Angelo, Beatrice says he is everything to her because he instilled in her a love of learning and gave her all the things that other children with parents had.
Every little girl should be so fortunate to have an Uncle Angelo who coats their most broken places with layers of blessings.
Beatrice aspires to be a lawyer. And an accountant. And a politician. In fact she’s got her sights set on being a member of Ugandan Parliament. She wants to push corruption out of Uganda and help her country shine brightly.
Her other goal is to care for and educate orphaned girls because according to Beatrice, “When you educate a girl, you educate the whole nation.” I’d wager to say that the reaches of educating this particular girl stretch far beyond the borders of Uganda.
As my trip was drawing to a close, Beatrice asked if I’d help get her story out to encourage other girls. When she tells her story in our upcoming book, I have a feeling it will strike a chord in the hearts of girls all over the world.
Until the book makes its appearance, I leave you with a snippet of Beatrice’s encouragement for young girls. ”Take care and know that your life is important. The world is because of you. It is up to us to make the world shine.”
As I lay out Beatrice’s story in our book, as I look at her photo, my heart is full for this girl who blesses the world with her very being. She’s right, it’s up to us to make the world shine. Across the ocean, ten hours ahead of me, where night is beginning to draw the curtains on the day, there’s a girl who already is the bright shining pearl of Africa.
For a moment, I watch him, marveling at what a perfect name Sun is for a kid with a luminous face. His face is always lit up like this and as we sit side by side I look to the sky to see if the sun is shining down on him. Afternoon thunderclouds have rolled in, blotting out the sun.
Oh, and here’s a big one, for the past decade or so she’s been working on establishing a kidney transplant and dialysis center in Kenshasa, her hometown in the Congo. She spends her days pouring her time, money, heart and everything else she has into providing care for those in need. This means doing things like hauling equipment instead of clothing in her luggage. It means translating protocol and training nurses. For Christine, it also meant giving up her crowning jewel, giving up her private practice in the States in order to devote more time to her bigger calling.
I asked another dear friend if she’d henna my dream stars onto my feet. I’ve known this woman since she was a teenager and I was a young adult volunteering with her Friday Night Live chapter. She’s creative and kindhearted and I’m filled with love for her every time I see her. She’s grown into an amazing woman and last night as she sat on my patio telling me about upcoming job interviews and painting stars on my feet, I was filled with pride. I couldn’t love her more if she were my own. Maybe, just maybe, I’ve got a smidge of motherly tendencies in me after all.
