Yesterday you insisted that I carry you, so I put you on my back and we got a few things done. As I was sweeping the floor with an extra 20 lbs on my back, I couldn't help but think of your past. It was a somber time. Did your mother carry you often? I'm guessing so, especially for the first year of your life. I kept picturing you in your hut on your dear mothers back as she swept the floor. Or did she sweep the dirt floor? I am sure she kept the place tidy. And did you own animals? I will attempt to do a drawing of your house, because I picture it in my head often. I picture a small grass hut tucked into a hillside. I see you barefoot, and bare bottomed running with your two little friends down the road dodging donkeys and cows. I long to see what that life was like. I was told it was harder than I could imagine, so I guess I'll just keep imagining.
As I type you are sitting with Owen, and you are a fourth of his size. You are softly talking to him and petting his soft ears. Earlier you even sat on him. I think he is one of your favorite "living creatures" as you say his name twenty times a day and want to show me where he is. He is such a good dog, and I think he's growing fond of you too. You also say "Ababa-yeh" 19.5 times a day. This morning we looked at a photo album and you did not want to turn the page from Ababa-yeh's picture. You kept kissing it. We both love it when he walks in the door each evening.
(Another Photo of African mother with child taken by Beth Mercer in Pokot Kenya)