Friday, November 2, 2012

Flower Tea

Ahad showed up to English class this morning with his own kettle of tea and a cup. He has been sick since Saturday with a fever, so I figured he had gone to the doctor.

"What's with the kettle?" I asked.

"Flowers!" He says, then opens the top of the kettle and shows me there are indeed flowers of some sort floating in hot water, brewing.

He sees my quizzical look and attempts an explanation: "Old man, 110 years old, tell me not to eat. Only drink tea with these flowers. I have no breakfast, only plain rice in the night."

I tell him that 110 year old men, as full of wisdom as they are, should not dispense medical advice and that he needs to eat to give his body energy to fight the sickness. He pretty much brushes me off and tells me he is "washing" his insides. Whatever. We continued with English class and read through the alphabet, as usual, then practiced small words we have been working on: words that end with "am," "at," and "ook."

I am really going to miss Ahad. And I know he's really going to miss me.

"No mama, no papa, no cousin, no one ever tell me to learn. No one take me to school. No one care, no one love. You my best friend." He tells me.

I tell him that God loves him even more and that He has great plans for His life and will not leave him an orphan. God will be the perfect father, the kind of father he never really had. He wants to believe, but can't quite let himself. 

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