Wedding

Today I went to Simon's cousin's wedding! The reception was just outside of Nairobi, in the back yard of someone's home, where many tents, flower arrangements and catering tables were set up. What was different about this wedding, from any other I'd been to before was the large number of children sitting in the guest seats and running around the yard. They were not nieces or nephews, cousins or grandchildren, they were homeless or very impoverished kids who looked for weddings every Saturday, so that they could have at least one good meal that week.
After we were seated at the reception, I began realizing that all the children were making their way towards where we sat. They huddled behind our seats, giggling and staring, while we were served lunch. Once I had put my plate down, which was still filled with food that I was too full to eat, Mary took my plate and slipped it to the kids, a trend I began noticing many people there were doing. It was then that I felt like crying, but due to the joy the wedding ceremonies were providing I was able to hold my tears in.
After the children had eaten they continued to lurk behind our seats, until a few worked up the courage to come sit in the chairs in front of us. The three girls, maybe 5 years old, just sat in front of us, chairs facing towards me and stared. Every time I smiled at one of them, they'd giggle uncontrollably and practically began shaking with excitement. As the reception went on, more kids worked up the courage to come sit by me, some stared, too shy to say anything to.... a white person. One ten year old boy, too nervous to talk to me, asked Noxy, who sat right beside me, if I was British. Noxy laughed and told him I was, thinking it was the easiest thing to say, though it was not entirely true. Then he proceeded to ask her if I was friends with Ronaldo, the world famous soccer player. We both laughed, and this time I responded with a truthful "No." The moment I had replied, all the kids around me started giggling with excitement and the boy looked shocked and thrilled that I had actually spoken to him. This silliness went on for awhile; children reaching to touch my light skin or catch my long enough for me to smile at them or say "hello". One girl said the word "Angel" to her friend as she stared at me and it broke my heart to hear.
It was as if they didn't understand that we were both humans, that there was nothing different between them and me besides the color of our skin and the texture of our hair. Many of them, I was later told, had probably never spoken, or maybe even seen a white person. At first I found it cute, how in awe of me they were, yet as it progressed I began realizing that they really saw me as better than them, maybe even better than anyone else at the wedding. I wanted to explain to them all that their skin is just as beautiful as mine, that my skin color does not say anything about who I am. I am not an angel, I am no less or more than they are. Yet I don't think they'd understand that, yet I hope, I hope with all my heart, that someday they will.


*The little girls running around in the picture were the homeless ones who sat next to me.