Terry Chapman's - Sabbath Journey

New Comers (revised)

They were sisters.

At least they had each other.

But that was all. . .

No parents

No home,

No food,

No tomorrow. . . 

 

Faith, the eldest, 15

held Sharon, the youngest, 13

as they walked through

the dark door of the 

Kampala Police station

afraid, silent 

emptied of tears.

 

Each gazed into the

other's eyes as if 

looking at the last

shard of a mirror

for the image

of the little girl

who still hoped for love.

 

The officer,

hardened by

this all too common

visitation, found

compassion 

yet one more time

and brought the girls in.

 

But now what?

Days passed

as they waited

for some 

impossible chance

that someone would

claim them.

 

When Rhita

got the call 

her response

was immediate

and whole-hearted,

“I’ll pick them up at 10:00

and bring them home.”

 

When I met the 

girls and looked 

into their dark

blank eyes

and gazed at their

numb expressionless

beautiful faces

 

I knew this was

holy ground

out of which

when watered

with the love

of this new family

 

would sprout the

ordinary laughter 

of children

who would once

again know, really know 

they belong, 

 

now and forevermore. Amen.

 

This is how Caleb describes the girl's story:

FAITH    AND    SHARON     STORY

Faith Nakaise 15 years and Sharon Nalugo 13 years are siblings from Bushenyi district. They are both orphans who lost their parents at 5 years and 3 years respectively. After the death of their parents, they were taken care of by their mother’s friend called Jane who was a Rwandese by origin. She helped to pay their school fees and in holidays they would go and visit her in her home in Mbarara. 

During February 2011, they were picked from school by Jane’s sister to go for Jane’s burial. After the funeral, her sister gave us 60,000Ushs (about $30) to come to Bugerere in central Uganda and search for their dead father’s relatives. When they reached there they only found their father’s grave and returned to Kampala. They reached Kampala at night, lost and confused, scared, hungry, and a Good Samaritan who was a motorcyclist took them to Old Kampala police post and recorded their statements and they spent a night at this man’s place that they identified as Saleh. 

They are now staying at Amahoro Children’s home in Matugga with other children. Faith and Sharon would like to join school.  Faith is in Primary Six and Sharon Primary Four.

 

The Return

"Love's Fury”

 I greet what I love

With my heart's blood

And my senses wither

In love's fury

Hadewijch of Brabant, a 13th Century Beguine

 

The Return

What did I expect?

In the opening of

my heart to 

unbounded love

there is little 

possibility

or reason for that

matter to return

unscathed by 

love’s furry.

 

Why am I surprised?

 In the letting go

of easy judgments,

for example:

of rich and poor,

allowing the flood

of humanity to rush

into the vacant space

left behind, I struggle

to breathe through gills 

I didn’t know I had.

 

Can one really be prepared?

 In the dislocation

of the comfort that 

is the ordinary world of

smothering distraction,

now standing fully exposed

to the life and love

that lies beneath,

all reasoned expectations

melt like Icarus’ wings

in the Holy heat of the 

African sun.

 

Now is the time,

this is the space,

for the Sabbath Pause

between the cracking open

of my heart and the

movement back 

into the ordinary world 

so that Africa’s wine

can ripen where it rests

in my being into a vintage

to be shared among friends. 

 

And The Walls Came A'crumblin Down

The container in which
each one holds
the world's story is expansive.

The walls of this
holding place are more
pliable than one imagines.

How much life,
with the accompanying
joy and pain, is held there

depends on what each
has learned when letting
go again and again

of the illusion
that the walls exist
in the first place.

The wonder of a poem
lies in the capacity to speak
of such impossible realities

such as camels slipping
effortlessly through
A needle's eye.

Or two men from
two lands becoming
born again as brothers.

Born not of the flesh
but of the Spirit not from
below but from above.

Or what we thought were
formidable walls of hostility
crumbling so thoroughly

that like Jericho future
archeologists who search
for remnants of former societies

will debate amidst the
dust as to wether such
walls every really existed.

Grace-full Africa

SOMETHING GRACEFUL

There is some
Grace that lies
heavy in the African air,

a sweetness carried
in the breezes sweeping
over Mombasa's white sands.

It is there in the gentle
rhythmic way the Kenyan
chef lays the breakfast

crepe upon my plate
In one slow smooth -
I dare say -loving motion.

One may think this
Grace echoes the days
of colonialism.

I thought ,as my eyes met his,
that this was a grace flowing
from a Sabbath source 

a balm that rises
up from that aquifer 
of abundance  

that lies just under
the surface of this
vast African land, 

under the not-so-thin layer 
of everyday struggle;
of poverty that often

seems to be a 
step ahead the best 
intentions of those whose feet

are planted on this soil
and those whose hearts, 
that while dwelling elsewhere, 

long to scratch the 
surface and tap into
the river or grace 

that cannot be
stopped and will
never run dry

SABBATH