A Homeless Ballerina by Lisa BordenLisa Borden - 22 Jun 2007

I’m guessing she was three years old.  She was wearing dirty grey sweat pants and a sweatshirt of similar description.  I think the reason she caught my eye was the fact that there was an unlikely plumage of lavender encircling her tummy.  The stiff, crumpled and dingy folds of a faded tutu stood out from under her grey top.  

Now I am the mother of a little girl and I used to be a little girl myself.  I understand the inner imaginations of little girls.  A tutu is princess clothing, the attire of a ballerina, which, in "Little Girl Land", is just about one and the same.  Princess, ballerina, whatever… the difference is very slight.  It’s magical and beautiful what a tutu does to the self-image and dreamings of a small girl.

But this small girl was quite obviously a child of the streets.  Her scruffy older brother was sort of looking out for her.  He was possibly five or six.  They had an interesting way of begging.  Rather than stand there with pleading eyes and open palms lifted up, they simply fell into step with those who were walking by and took their hand.  The surprised pedestrians looked down to see who owned the small hand that had just taken theirs.  

From the front seat of my lumbering great truck as I sat waiting for my husband to get back from his errands, I watched as the princess and her brother took hand after hand.  No one seemed unkind but I didn’t see anyone give anything to them either.  I was frustrated that I didn’t have anything appropriate with me to give.  Why didn’t I have a bag of cashews or a bunch of bananas, I groaned to myself.

Byron returned to the car and my gazing was interrupted.  The busyness of our errands distracted me from the lavender clad ballerina-child and we were off.

I don’t actually know how many children live on the streets of Arusha, Tanzania.  I know that there are many more than I want to think about.  They are little girls with imaginations, little boys with dreams.  I know that there are so many that when we were looking for the Living Water Children’s Center last night, people kept pointing us to other homes for kids in the area.  

We did finally find the center.  Mama Dora, who runs the place, was stretched out exhausted on the simple sofa in the front room as we pulled in.  Her days are long and her charges are many.  Dora didn’t sign up for this job. She just sort of stumbled into it.  She met a child, a dusty little person with a tutu perhaps, and she thought, “This is not right!”  So she made space in her life for that person.  That’s how Dora came to have thirty homeless children under her roof.

Byron and I went to see Dora because we are in Tanzania to help.  We are pretty clear that we want to help with things that our African friends are already doing, things they are dreaming and attempting that just need a boost.  We sat with Dora and asked her frankly if our summer’s volunteer team could be useful to her or if they would be in the way.  We don’t want to be providing poverty tours for privileged Westerners who actually slow down the work that is being done.  We’d like to be authentically helpful.

Dora assured us that the extra hands of young people are always needed.  “We need people who will help the children with their homework, or watch over them during their after-school play.  We have lots of work to do.  All the laundry is done by hand and there are many clothes to be washed!  The children love to learn new songs and they need to practice their English too.”  Then she turned to me.  “And if you have time,” she said, “you are welcome.  The children need mothers like you.”

As we sat there in the front room the children next door began to sing.  Their voices amazed me, full of life and giggles.  Dora smiled at me because she could tell I was a little transfixed by what I was hearing.  “They are just singing their worship songs before they say their prayers and go to bed,” she said.  

Just worship.  Just prayer.  Just safe, warm beds.  In providing these, Dora is obeying what she hears God calling her to do.

I sat there in Dora’s company thinking how blessed I was to be in the presence of greatness.  

As you pray, remember Dora and her charges at the Living Water Children’s Center.  And pray that we will be a true blessing as we come alongside them this summer.