Walking towards the sound of mild sobs, I see a woman with head bowed between her knees.
“Hey,” I said. “What’s your name?”
She raised her head with weak pride, every part of her screaming… self-doubt, self-hatred, weakness…
How could she survive so much negativity, I cringe.
“Africa…,” she answered.
“That’s…. that’s a beautiful name.” I said, in curiosity for this person ‘of whom little was known’
“what’s wrong, Africa?”
“My children” she said struggling to stand again.
I caught a glint of hope in the very tear she tried to wipe as she grabbed my right arm