She sat in a shanty, short, in a black t-shirt and red ankara wrapper, overseeing her mother’s food canteen (Mama Aisha), reading Paul Coelho’s “The Alchemist”. I felt surprise, that she could be reading that kind of book, then I felt shame, that I had looked down on her not expecting her to have a selective taste in literature, then I felt admiration, and maybe I became a tad affectionate towards her from thence on.
Knowledge cares not where you are from; she offers you her all, her power, once you commit to her, like a supple bride on her wedding night.
The mirror effect of seeing astounds me each time I think about it, each time I see something new, amazing, ugly, beautiful, different, not me.
Today, my world just got bigger and I am grateful to her.
‘I saw her
And she showed me, me
It was I who was ill
And not her
It was I who needed
Her pity, her help’
Her love
(9/05/2014)
Awa 