how yaouvi fixed my heart

There is balm for every soul. Mine is named Yaouvi, and he's six. Most of the time he calls me Tata Alice, except for when he forgets and whispers his other favourite name for me. Angel, he calls, beckoning me with the little downward flick of the wrist and curl of the fingers that's so West African. Angel!

And of course I come. I can't resist his fuzzy head and his grin full of pearly white teeth that he tries to hide with a little brown hand when he thinks he's laughing too hard. I love the way he sits on a tiny wooden chair with his casted leg propped up on another one, contentedly playing Jenga with anyone that will stop and stoop.

And I completely lost my heart when I saw him practicing in the hall with his tiny little crutches. He burst into that huge smile when he saw me, laughing his little raspy laugh, and almost fell over because he was so excited. His mama caught him, set him straight, and inch by inch he crutched to where I was standing. He turned around and backed up until he could lean on the wall, at which point he dropped the crutches and hugged my leg like we hadn't seen each other for years and years.

I taught him how to eskimo kiss just now, explaining about those people that live so far north they aren't even in Togo anymore, and his eyes got wide before he solemnly rubbed his nose against mine. I lived in that moment just short of forever, as his little arm draped itself around my neck and things like babies with HIV and men with no families just didn't exist anymore. He stared into my eyes for a little while, our foreheads pressed together, before breaking away and laughing uncontrollably, giggling something in Ewe.

When I asked a translator what he had said, the answer came quickly.

He says you should not go. But if you go, you should come back to him because he would like to play some more.

Which, at the end of the day, is exactly what I needed. Just a moment to be in the world of a six-year old, where the only thing that matters is whether or not your friend is going to come play with you again.

Eeso, Yaouvi. I will come again to play tomorrow.