I held my first rather humorous attempt at a multi-lingual conversation today. The participants were Karim, myself, and some other young African boys, and we were speaking (or trying to speak) in Kinyarwandan, English, French, Japanese, Spanish, and Tagolog. I think the children were rather trying to show off. I drew smiley faces on balloons for the babies (that’s what we call the kindergartners) - and held funeral services for an ill-fated blue balloon that popped. The small owner of the deflated piece of rubber was captivated. In the afternoon the girls held a girl party to get all their fingernails and toenails painted. They were fixing each others’ hair as well - and got a bit creative with some of ours!
Meanwhile the boys enjoyed guy time with Abraham and Barnett, duking it out on the field with a soccer ball. Their games can get quite intense.
This evening we got to meet Papa Damas - whose grandfather started the orphanage and who now runs it today. Papa D, as the children call him, was also in charge at Gisimba during the genocide. In fact, he is the one who hid 400 children and adults from the militia who were trying to kill them. He is a hero, and we were all quite shy around him. Also, it was dark, so we couldn’t see his face very well - and he had been in the hospital and was still not feeling well.
Back at the hotel, we went out on our favorite balcony for dinner and a dance lesson. On Friday our four talented groups of children are preparing to compete to a certain song, so we - of course! - are coming up with our own rather unique version of the dance for them. We had a blast - although, I have to say I’m pretty sure they put me in the back row for a reason . . .
I also worked on the song I’ve written and had translated that I’m going to do my best to sing for the kids on Friday. “Remember . . . love never fails.” Only in their language it’s, “Ibuka . . . urukundo niruhemuka” - which is a bit trickier to say. But I will give what I have, Lord, and I pray that it glorifies Your name. Amen!
