From my Ethiopian Journal -- Behind the Blue Gate

Ava is above at 9 months in her referral photo

Bruik at 2 years in his referral photo

photos as well of the gate and the laundry
our few referral photos

I carried them around everywhere!!

This comes from my journal -- it describes our little Ava...She was one year at this writing...



Behind the Blue Metal Gate


She was kept behind fenced-in walls
The type that are high and reaching and strong.
Enclosing, Excluding
Encapsulated.

Hidden away,
inside the the tall fencing was a tiny hidden garden,
reaching up for patches of sunlight,
parcelled out--as the sun travelled slowly over-head.

Where was it going? Daily, it kissed the garden,
and then it would travel away.
And she would reach her velvet brown arms
up
to catch the sunlight and to
feel its warmth.

The day I met her,
as we rang at the great blue metal gate,
surrounding her hidden garden,
she waited for me,
in the tiny garden,
behind the tall, great walls.

She reached for me--
I picked her up,
in that moment's gift of sunlight.
And, as we swayed,
standing there,
she reached her tiny fingers
up
and pointed over the wall to great trees overhead,
also swaying in the sunlight and in an African breeze.

Those mighty trees were the first moment we shared,
there, in her world of walls and tiny parcels of beauty.

She studied me,
seriously, with wise eyes and directed our gaze back,
to the great trees towering overhead,
over us
and over the garden and the little white clothes lines,
positioned to also catch the sunlight,
and the African breeze.

Wind chased through little white stockings and lifted worn but bleached white nursery blankets,
The clothesline danced with us as we swayed back and forth.
We shared the mighty trees--
And a promise was whispered to us that was full of expectancy, awe, and joy.

I had to leave her that day,
within the walls,
behind the gate,
behind with gentle women with welcoming smiles,
and a sea of other young children.

I had to leave her sitting in her seat by the tiny garden,
with the bright yellow daisies and the hot pink trumpet vines,
climbing up the walls
up and up
to kiss the sunlight
to mingle in the ancient trees
and wave in the breeze.

Serious eyes following me and then face turned upward, toward the mighty trees overhead...

I could not sleep that night.

I could not rest until she was back in my arms,
and we were driving
out
of the blue gate
into
the bright sunlight,
along crowded, bustling streets--

in my arms.


Love, Gillian