Me and the Boys

What is it about talking to children that turns my face into a braying, rubbery mask of horrific hilarity??

Okay, maybe I'm being too hard on myself. It's just that whenever I smile around children, I don't think about trying not to expose all my teeth and gums like I do in other pictures. I never try to be demure, or pouty. Talking to kids just makes me peel back those lips and flash the old choppers, so seeing myself in those shots always makes me grimace.

But this time, it's not really about me at all. Part of the reason I was so giddy in this shot was that the boy on the left, Didier, had just astonished me. Yesterday, I was leading the Rwandan journalists I've been training on a field trip at a program where HIV positive children are taught to cope with their status. Many of these children acquired HIV from mothers who had been systematically raped and tortured during the genocide. Though Didier is 13, and the other boy in the photo, Francis, is only 8, there's a good chance their mothers were victims of the "genocidaires."

Anyway, the journalists spent time interviewing the counselors and program directors before meeting the boys. When they were finally ushered out to greet us, both were typically shy. I decided the best way to break the ice would be to introduce ourselves and then let the boys ask US questions first. Through a translator, Didier looked up at me, looked down, looked back up and said,

"What is your aim in talking to us?"

It was a brilliant question, and I laughed at his frankness. I explained that we were "journalistes," and that we wanted to write stories that could help children be healthy. He seemed to accept that answer, so the reporters asked a few generic, non-invasive questions. Then I asked Didier what he wanted to be when he grows up. He looked down and said he wanted to be a pilot. We all cheered, and then I suggested maybe he would want to fly for Kenya Airways, or Rwandair. Didier looked me directly in the eye and said, "I want to fly for Boeing."

I pray to God that one day I'll be a 75 year old woman reading an inflight magazine somewhere and come across a story about a Rwandan pilot named Didier. Or maybe there'll be a story about a Rwandan pastor named Francis who's making a difference in his country. With all my heart, I want these boys to grow up. Period.