November 6, 2006

The excitement and anticipation of this day came with waves of children lining the shore of the school campus. Like sandpipers on the beach, they huddled together and when one would move they would all move with quick, short steps. Not a word of what I was saying in English was understood but the heads cocked and the eyes were attentive as if by some breeze of interpretation they would feel, not hear, the meaning.

Then, the flock was expanded as those who had not been present to draw a lot emerged upon the scene. They were like seagulls looking for any opportunity to feast on the rewards of those who had been fortunate enough to draw a lot, becoming the privileged to take flight into the realm of education.

These seagulls were present all day long: at the pass through the hedge which was the entrance of the school and at the drive-through gate of the compound. My heart was broken and tears were being fought back as I explained in my limited Amharic that I wanted to let them come in but it was not possible, the school was too small to accommodate the thousands of children who live in these mountains (waving my hand along the crest of the nearest pinnacles).

We are taking 50 more children into the kindergarten this year for a total of 250 and there are more than 1800 others who want to be in any school. As we line the children up to separate them into 5 kindergarten classes, I think, “Can’t we make room for just one more in this line and that line, and that line?” They scurry back and forth on the shore of the campus, near the passage, just hoping for a chance to gain entrance---each one saying, “Just one more, please?” and, “Let it be me.”

Bring them on,
Let them hear.
There is plenty of room on heaven’s shore.
Its passage is always an open door.
Take the opportunity to attend a greater feast.
Than any of these fortunate ones could ever imagine.