When we left Ethiopia
a long time ago to go to Djibouti
– what was then French
Somali Land
And so, while the other children enjoyed the toys they got
for Christmas, and while they ate the sweets I knew were delicious, I was
confined to my bed where I heard their laughter and all the noise that playful
children usually make. All this while I was made to swallow a pill called
quinine that is so bitter, it is to a child an affliction as bad as malaria
itself, if not worse.
To add to a child's trials, I was not old enough in the Fall
of that year to follow in my brothers' footsteps and receive my First
Communion. I was told I shall have to wait one more year for that to happen;
one other thing they were eligible to do without me joining them. So I hoped
that when Christmas comes this year, I'll be able to join them and my younger
sisters as well as the other kids when they will be playing with the new toys
and consuming the delicious sweets. And I will not have to swallow the bitter
pill anymore.
But despite my prayers, which I did every night at the foot
of my bed, that was not to be as I was again stricken with malaria on time that
year. And I had to spend a few days in bed unable to enjoy the toys I was
given, but forced to consume the bitter pill I learned to hate so very much.
The worst part was that I could only take it with water because the nausea made
it impossible for me to take anything else.
Finally, the year ended and I was feeling better. I went
back to school, did well, had a good Summer and looked forward to the Fall when
school will start again; when the Christian brothers and the priests will be
back, and I shall, at long last, receive my First Communion and be in league
with my older brothers.
The month of October came and was followed by November when
the ceremony of my First Communion will be performed in a few days – this
coming Sunday to be exact. But the dreaded month of December was not far away;
was hovering like a dark shadow and reminding me of the time I may have to
spend in bed with a bitter pill, with toys I cannot play with and sweets I
cannot consume.
Saturday night came and my father handed me the alarm clock
he used to wake himself up every weekday and go to work. The trouble was that
when the clock went off, not only my father woke up but so did everyone else in
the house. The morning of the ceremony being a Sunday, I did not want to wake
up everybody so very early given that I had to be in church at least one hour
before the start of mass to rehearse the performance. How to resolve this
dilemma?
I found away. I prayed as usual but this time I followed the
advice of a Christian brother who used to talk to us in class all the time
about the Virgin Mary. He would say she is the mother of us all, and like any
mother, she never says no when we ask her for something. And so, I prayed to
her directly this time, rosary in hand, and asked her not to let me be sick
this coming Christmas. Then, as an afterthought, I asked her to wake me up
before the alarm clock rings.
And guess what. I woke up ten minutes before the alarm was
set to go off. And I did not get sick that Christmas or any Christmas after
that. Was it a miracle? You judge.