Abu Bakr.

Dear Abba,

Some people you meet in life are truly unforgettable. Like Abu Bakr — a six-foot-plus Somalian senior at school when I was only eight. His complexion was as dark as a Mediterranean midnight and when he smiled (he smiled rarely) his teeth shone like the most precious diamonds in the world. I was tiny but even then, I am sure I am not exaggerating his appearance when I recall it. He was huge! And so very frightening if you looked at him from the same distance as I did. He practiced basketball in the court almost everyday during lunch break but I never noticed him until that one day in late September (or was it November?).

The older boys were having a match as usual. It was midday, life as usual. I got out of the classroom and stood on the concrete for a good couple of minutes, thinking about what I'd do during my free time that day — I had no friends and I was quite happy that way — when my attention was acutely diverted to the cries of a little boy, not much younger than myself, who fell on the jagged rocks in the centre field. Beneath his bright blue school shorts, his vulnerable knees bled. It was bad. The worst part, Abba, was that no one was around to help him. I felt fidgety. I didn't know what to do. I wanted to help but he was a boy and I was a girl (a very shy one at that). Taking a deep breath in, I took a step forward but came to a sudden halt.

In the blink of an eye, Abu Bakr had sped across the basketball field and the rocky ground and was bending down in front of the boy. I saw him exchanging two quick words with the kid, a smile on his face — and in no time — picking the boy up and carrying him to the school clinic. After ensuring that the boy would be okay, he resumed his game as if nothing had happened at all.

Abba, I stood like that on the concrete and watched it all happen. I couldn't remember seeing kindness and humility in such a raw form anywhere. I was only a child then but if I ever run into Abu Bakr again, I'm going to remind him of that day and how I watched him carry a totally helpless little boy to safety. And I plan to tell him I've been his biggest fan since that day.


Your granddaughter,
T.