I was able to hear the African Children’s Choir the other night. They were delightful!
There were about twenty of them, from different countries in Africa, and appeared to be about 9 or 10 years old. As I looked at their faces I could see the face of my grand nephew, Ofori, who lives now in Washington, D.C. I met him first in Ghana when he was about four years old.
Then I went to Columbia Correctional Institution. It’s a maximum security Wisconsin State Prison for men. As I sat in that circle and looked at the faces of those men I could imagineaa them as 9 or 10 years old - cute little African-American boys. Did they sing then? Were they loved? What led them to this desolate place? Are they remembered by others, by their families? And for what?
That’s the way it is in our lives. We go places and meet people and create bonds with them. Then we are able to see them in the faces of others and we are able to remember them – even in the midst of these questions.
Where have you been? Who do you remember?
Ruth Poochigian, OP