Christmas is a few days away and the heat is on. This has been a hectic couple of weeks for me. I travelled home at the weekend for my younger sister's wedding and it was a beautiful time with family. I was battling a cold but I managed to have a good time. The kids were so thrilled they begged us to leave them behind in Sapele, I was really tempted but thought better of it at the last minute.
The idea of spending Christmas alone did not appeal to moi in the least. Anyway, we've been back a couple of days now and even in the rush for Christmas an image remains in my mind and I just have to blog about it. My big Sister triggered the memory when she made reference to some childhood event. Then the memory came and wouldn't go away. The story I'm about to share with you has been dormant in my subconscious for over thirty years but now it won't go away. It is the story of Anthony. Anthony was his real name and I never knew his surname (I doubt if even Anthony knew his surname). I never knew his age, just knew he was much older than me; he could have been any age between fourteen and twenty, I didn't know and I'm not sure anyone else knew either.
You see Anthony was a 'houseboy'. He was a relative of the man of the house who happened to be one of my Dad's tenants in those days. I don't quite remember the whole family but I seem to recall the man had several daughters and no sons? Anyway, Anthony was the 'work tool' in that family. He did every menial job and then some!. I don't think Anthony was deliberately treated poorly but I struggle to recall anyone being kind to him and I'm afraid I cannot remember any occasion when anyone treated Anthony like the rest of us kids.
You see, Anthony was a tard different; he was a simple fellow, maybe a little retarded but was certainly not sharp like the other kids, and so, his lot was housework. Anthony was special, he was full of smiles, never took offence and was very forgiving. He was always willing to take on the most demeaning jobs with the same broad smile. He had very little and never seemed to eat well like the rest of the family. I remember Anthony licking the plates of his siblings but I don't remember him ever eating together with them. Anthony was always barefooted, even on rainy days and Sundays. Anthony was often the object of ridicule and the cruel jokes of the neighbourhood kids.
And then came this Christmas season and maybe someone had spoken to Anthony's guardians or maybe it had been a good year for them financially. Whatever the reason, they decided to make Anthony an outfit for Christmas. I no longer remember the colours of the fabric or any of those details but I do remember what that outfit did to my heart.
You see, the fabric must have been too small; because come Christmas morning, Anthony's trousers were short ( he was a big kid) and horror of horrors!, the tailor had sewn the outfit inside out! It was a disaster, he was wearing the wrong side of an under-sized outfit. To say he looked ridiculous is to put it mildly. He looked like a comedy act. As is to be expected, everyone laughed at him. I seem to recall my Mum's remarks that life was being cruel to Anthony; he finally gets an outfit and the tailor gets it wrong! But you know what? I learnt a life lesson from Anthony that day. Anthony was in his element, he was so grateful to have new clothes he didn't seem to notice the deficiencies or to care. He was so thrilled he could not stay still. He put on an ugly pair of rubber flip flops and went off to town. I remember seeing him later that evening watching some christmas show a few streets away from the house and looking so happy.
My soft heart broke at how funny he looked; I couldn't laugh at him like all the others, I was a much younger girl but I felt like giving him my own clothes. I saw the sweet simple soul inside of him and wished I could do something to help put a permanent smile on that dear simple face, but there was nothing I could do. I don't remember Anthony after that Christmas because I moved away to Warri and I grew up and went on with my own life.
Where is Anthony now? What became of him? Did he go to school? marry, have kids? I guess I will never know. But I remember Anthony and his big eyeballs and sweet smile and my heart still aches when I remember the happy young man in the wrongly sewn clothes.
I could not help then but WE can help him now; you and I. I'm going to be hitting my wardrobe hard in a few hours and I will brutally remove outfits that are good enough for Christmas and package them nicely for a female Anthony somewhere. On Christmas eve, I will do orphanage rounds and give out as much as I can to be sure a kid somewhere does not have to face ridicule on Christmas day. If you visit this blog, you can do the same for the Anthony in your neighbourhood. Go through your wardrobe, your Spouse's, your kids'; (if you don't know where Anthony lives, email me or leave a comment). I know where he lives; this year let's be Santa for someone else. If you're in Diaspora, you can get stuff from your friends and send all over Africa. Ten dollars may not mean much to you but it will put rice on African table this Christmas..Together, let's remember Anthony............
FOR GOD SO LOVED THE WORLD THAT HE GAVE HIS ONLY BEGOTTEN SON
THAT WHOSOEVER BELIEVES IN HIM SHOULD NOT PERISH BUT HAVE EVERLASTING LIFE..John 3:16
Shalom people......
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