Through Their Eyes
October 20th, 2023. Madagascar
There is an imagination and creativity exclusive to childhood. Grace and William, now eleven and nine, still see the world from this lens and therefore have been witnessing Madagascar in their own special way.
Both kids are now used to the pervasive smell of smoke and the foreignness of, well, everything. They take note of the size and material of the houses in which families live, the constantly burning fires used for cooking and trash, the ubiquitous scent of body odor, and the total absence of toys and screens. They are witnessing how kids carry babies who don’t wear diapers, and what the phrase “it takes a village” actually means. They are using buckets of water to shower and are sleeping under mosquito nets.
I marvel at the subtlety and profundity of their unique perceptions of this foreign land, and do my best to record them. Here are a few from our first few days in Madagascar.
William in spotting play in a sea of poverty:
From the window of our restaurant, William and I watch the comings and goings of the poverty-stricken night market below. I ask him what he sees, and he points out a little girl in the back, standing in front of her mud hut. She’s holding a frayed rope. He comments that she’s the best rope-jumper he’s ever seen. “She’s sooo good, mom”. Engrossed by her skill, he counts her successes.
Using football (soccer) as the universal language, William communicates joy and friendly competition with newfound friends. They play on the dry red sand until the sun’s light ends their games. I notice, even after hours playing and laughing together, they haven’t uttered a single spoken word.
Grace at embracing mindfulness:
At the Lemur Rescue Center, Grace carefully weighs 17 kg of eggplant on an antique metal scale. She then spends over an hour carefully cubing the vegetables with an extra-dull knife. She’s preparing the lemur’s morning meal. I make a comment about wishing we had our efficient kitchen appliances to help us. Grace gives me a look that says it all. This kitchen is lacking running water and electricity, yet it has everything it needs. She’s drawn to the simplicity and deliberateness of the work. She works hard and is fully present. She’s in flow. She may not even notice that she’s sprinkling mindfulness on the food.
Surely, the lemurs can taste it.
