Afaf is a Sudanese newcomer, and Issiah is her 5 year old son. Afaf is big in all ways. Big personality. Big courage. Big love. Big frustrations. Big laugh. Big smile. I know Afaf through Knox United Church, where my Dad works. For my photo essay I told her I wanted to spend the day with her. " Alright then, come to my place at 5:30, that's when I get up, but no photos until I do my hair" She laughed. Afaf gets more done by 10 am that I sometimes do by 5. Issiah didn't have to work hard to wiggle right into my heart. He is smart and observant and so full of affection and love. Afaf shared her life with me. The bus ride at 6 am in minus 25, her yearning for a house, not a small apartment in Manitoba Housing. Her frustrations at not being able to find a job. Having coffee at Tim Hortons in Portage Place, where we met up with her friends, and chatted about kids and getting filled in on the latest gossip. They talked about how things are so different in Sudan. But she never complained. Her sharing was about yearning and hope and frustrations but it was also about faith. We laughed together about relationships and men " don't worry Kristin, one day some man will love you even with that skinny body of yours".
I wasn't some white girl doing a project on " a newcomer." I was Kristin, spending time with my friend Afaf. The next day I did the same thing, just because I liked them. Issiah cried that day in daycare because he wanted to " see Kristin". I probably shouldn't have been as happy as I was to hear that.
That day she hadn't been able to contact her Mom, news of the Sudanese Bombing had broken. All of a sudden that wasn't just a headline that barely got 1 minute on the news, it was Afaf's Mom.
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