Holding Beja: Back from an Annual Trip to Kenya

When he holds me close, I want to kiss his cheek.

When he looks up at me, I want to kiss his nose.

I love Beja.

No, Beja is not a boyfriend (who needs one of those?). Beja is one of the students at the school dedicated in memory of my brother in Mynzeni, Kenya: the Sean Michels School for Special Needs.

This past week, my family and I returned from Mynzeni, where we treated over three hundred Kenyans at our makeshift dental clinic.

(For pictures and a write-up of the trip, check out seanmichelsschool.blogspot.com. Warning: you will want to adopt every child in Africa if you so much as glance at any picture of an SMS child).

At Seany’s school, we have twenty-three beautiful, gorgeous, kind, grateful students (enough synonyms for you?).

This trip, I was in charge of taking pictures with my new handy-dandy camera.

It is a Sony.

With a microphone.

And I absolutely adore my new bit of technology.

As soon as I saw our children smile, my camera shutter went off. The flash bloomed a thousand times. The children thought my eye turned into a black, technical protrusion.

I love to take pictures of these special, beautiful children. They each walk so confidently. They do not hide their amputated arms or deformed feet. They smile for the picture.

But as I go through the pictures now, I must admit: most of my pictures are of Beja.

I know it is wrong to play favorites.

And I promise I do not have favorites.

I just love to hold Beja until my arms ache.

One day during the trip, Baba Bret came up while I was holding Beja. Beja had just gotten a cavity fixed. And I was feeling like a villain for holding Beja down while the dentist jabbed mosquito-like needles into his cheek.

"I’m sorry Beja," I said, murmuring apologies into his ear.

Beja tucked his head under my chin and looked up with puppy dog, hazelnut eyes. He jutted out his lip and motioned to the trash. He needed to spit again. I rushed him over to the trash bin and he sputtered up more spit and blood.

After wiping up his brown, puckered lip, I continued to walk around the Koins site.. Beja looked up and saw Baba Bret nearby. Baba Bret called out Beja's name and took him into his own arms.

My arms felt empty.

I can be quite possessive over Beja so I waited for Baba Bret to be done playing with Beja.

Bret showed Beja his camera and tickled him until he smiled, his brazen, devilish smile.

Then Bret looked at me.

"Beja, is this your other mama? Your white mama?" Bret said, playfully.

I just smiled sheepishly, hoping he would say yes. I want Beja to love me so bad, it hurts.

Beja just grinned wider. Then, he shifted away from Bret, towards me.

"He is leaning to you," Bret said, kindly.

I reached out and took Beja into my arms. I tucked his crumpled legs around my waist. And I walked around the Koins site, pretending to be an African mama. Regal. Strong. With a child wrapped around me like a sarong.