When I first met Rosa she was under quarantine.The doleful, vacant stare of her dark brown eyes set in a sea of pearl provided only a hint of the the youthful exuberance that could have, should have been there.
Somehow, in a remote village in Gondar region of northern Ethiopia she had contracted Tuberculosis. Her prognosis was good thanks to the love and compassion of distant cousin Christine Gilmour who had recently visited, rescued her, and brought her home to the capitol city, Addis Ababa.
Now she was sequestered away in a room mostly used for storage; sleeping, resting, slowly recovering.
When her time of quarantine was over she would sit in on the porch for a time and visit.
Quiet and shy, she would hold her hand over her mouth awaiting the time when she would no longer be contagious.
Now, nearly a year later, her dark eyes are bright and sparkling. An engaging smile has returned to her beautiful long face but sadness awaits. Like a thief, it lurks in the shadows waiting to pounce on this beautiful vulnerable child.
She has value in the village again. She is strong and can carry water, sweep the earthen floor and attend to the smaller children.
Her mother wants her to leave school and return.
She is beautiful and healthy.
She would bring a good bride price.
She is twelve years old!
Before I left to return to the U. S. A. she asked to get into my suitcase and come with me (she was not the only one). I laid hands on her and cousin Tadila and prayed for health, safety and good life for them.
I think I need to pray some more.
