The Teacher

I nicknamed one young boy who I met in Mindanti "The Teacher" because he was intent on teaching me Chichewa, and equally determined to learn the English equivalents for words in his language. On our last day in the village, I took out paper and a pen and he wrote his name, Golassi, and we began our word game. I would point to something, like a dress, and he would excitedly shout out the word in Chichewa - "dlessi!". I would then write down each word in both languages. The widest grin I have ever seen never left his face, and I marveled at his maturity and zest for learning. While probably no older than 11 or 12 years old, he radiated a maturity beyond his years and a total ease with taking on the role of teacher for his much older azunga student. He returned to me again and again after our language lesson to throw the Frisbee, attempt a round of "Miss Mary Mack", hold my hands, or simply smile up at me with a glow that reached all the way down into my soul. As we were leaving Midanti after our last day at the work site, as the tears streamed down my face, I searched the crowd of children for The Teacher but he was nowhere to be found. Maybe he had already moved on to his next willing student. I thanked God for my tears and for the love shared between inhabitants of entirely different universes who managed to communicate on the most basic human level. While the word game delighted us both, we did not need words to communicate in the way that matters most. - Catherine Hilyard