Day FourtyNine

Shatila Day

after Zeed motivated me to come along and teach English 

after missing out on a week and basically giving up on the girls' fitness class

which is now carried out by Alex and Mallory.

The girls kept telling me during the week

'you are loved there'

and 

'the girls are asking about you'

but

my only response was that 

'I feel everything'

which makes it hard for me to carry.

But I went.

With less weight on my shoulders and the dream team alongside.

The kids are always excited to see us

and it has become a familiar place for us too.

Even people on the streets can recognise our faces.

The day starts and we have a class and then a break.

I'm eager to walk upstairs to the girls' school

to visit them

as they pledged me to do

two weeks ago.

I know they know I know

they don't forget me;

and I wanted them to know

I don't either.

Their teacher Mohammed is on the stairs 

and I ask him where the girls' classroom is.

He says 'Which girls?'

I say 'Ifal'.

She's my younger soul sister.

He walks us to their class and opens the door.

I appear slowly in the picture

and scan the faces

I face.

I notice Ilaf,

sitting on the front seat.

The more confident funny friend sitting behind her.

Her younger sister sitting next to her.

Our contemporary dancer is sitting on the front right.

I look further,

the more mature girl who takes the class seriously sits at the far right.

I see eyes dilating

as their wonder grows 

at how I made it to see them.

We stand awkwardly,

speechlessly

motionlessly

connecting 

with no 

way

to explain to anyone watching-

all the things we've discussed

in that one moment.

Neither side wants to let go

but Mohammed is standing at the door

and Mrs Sarah, their teacher,

is like, ?,

so I say 'I will go to work now'

blink,

nod to them,

and make my way out of the picture.

#strong

#priceless

#deep

-

We go downstairs and outside for some tea on the street.

I notice a woman hanging clothes on the balcony 

of Ilaf's flat.

And I suspect it's her mother.

I always look to that balcony

in a secret hope to come across Ilaf

or her older sister.

I walk below the balcony and wave to the woman.

'Hello. Ilaf mama? Inti?'

'Eh!'

She recognises me.

I try to explain who I am but she already knows.

Ilaf has spoken to her family about me as much as I have spoken

to my family about her.

It's mutual.

'Ahlein'

Come in, she waves. Come.

I say I have to go back for the second English class

and she says I should come next time.

She is so welcoming,

it's like we've hugged from the first floor balcony she's at

and the noisy street I'm at.

I can see where the girls get this beautiful

loving sense from.

And I look forward to 

embracing their invitation.