Hair

It's interesting how different people view the same thing. I was sitting in the bed of the mission truck while Anna bought some fresh vegetables for the orphanage. After I finally convinced the sellers that Anna had the money, we struck up a conversation in Swaenglish.

One woman pointed to her hair and said, "Wewe ya kupendeza." I couldn't believe she thought my shaggy, hair was beautiful! I thought of all the times the kids had petted my hair, surprised at its softness. I, on the other hand, love to stroke their coarse, short-cropped hair. It seems we often find beauty in things we don't have. Pity!

The other day, Vicent and I were talking. His perspective on life broke my heart. He told me Tanzania was bad, but American was good. We laughed at my patchy sun tan, and I said my sandals had made my feet look like zebra skin. Vicent's serious eyes turned even sadder. "White is better than black," he said. For once, I was speechless.

On the other hand, when I took the three girls to Lake Victoria, I was very impressed at how comfortable Rosie and Leah are in their own skin. They look life straight in the eye and carry themselves with a gracefulness Miss Universe would envy. What a treasure to have such healthy self-esteem!
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