I can't sleep.
We finally have air conditioning again,
and the contraption is keeping me up.
And my mind keeps fluttering back to Mother Teresa
her Home for the physically and/or mentally challenged.
To the little speechless girl who wouldn't let go of my hand.
She was determined to keep me at her side,
clasping my hand in both her little ones.
And yet I had to let go of her to follow my guide's lead.
The one with what looked like downs syndrome among other things,
who smiled at me,
pointed at me and then at herself and smiled her prettiest smile again,
only to tell me that she thought I was pretty.
The bed ridden one with what looked like severe cerebral palsy.
I've never seen a face cracking into a smile like that in my entire life.
Like her face opened up and transformed into pure sunlight.
She was completely immobile.
Couldn't communicate,
and so her smile struck me as incredibly important to never ever forget.
And the blind drummer boy who sang to us not one but two songs,
smiling wide at someone he couldn't see,
all the while a little boy squirmed around on the floor,
one leg tied to a rope to the bed so he wouldn't hurt himself.
I was knackered when I got back.
I keep thinking that they deserve infinitely more.
Gomesh shouldn't have to sing to strangers to be appreciated.
Someone should be able to hold that girls hand permanently.
And that Sunshine smile deserves more than the eternal sight of nurses,
the roof above her bed and her blue bed posts.
Gut wrenching and so, so beautiful.
Disabled orphans and elderly.
Human beings who deserve so incredibly,
unbelievably much more.
Old women and men sitting in a row in the middle aisle
of what could only be described as a dormitory.
All dressed in matching night dress.
I was told they were relaxing.
I shook a hand here and there, said hello.
Smiled.
Felt I was intruding.
Felt bad about having such a beautiful experience at their expense.
Because they deserve more.
They deserve everything I'm lucky enough to take for granted.
I'll write a less emotional entry later.
Good night.
*
NOT my words
just wondrous reflections by
Mone
my Norwegian young friend
beautiful friend.
.
