They’re beautiful kids, in their jeans, sandals and bright shirts, some girls’ faces framed by flowing head coverings in a rainbow of colours, and obviously East African with their long lean builds, trim facial features and height.  

Shy smiles when I look at them, peals of laughter and banter whenever I call one of them to the front to write what I hope they’ve learned.  Some, at 12 years of age, are old enough they will be considered adult men and women in a few short years, in their culture.

What I found 

I find it very hard to envision what they’ve endured on their trek from their homes in the mountains of Sudan before arriving in Cairo.  I have no personal frame of reference to help me know that sort of terror.  I only have the documentaries of that brutal history; I believe them.

I'm overjoyed to help

They arrange themselves in orderly rows for our English lessons, each with the notebooks and pencils we provided, and they copy everything we write, faithfully, to the last lines of my amateur effort at illustrations.  “I go...You go...He goes....by taxi, by horse, by donkey, by cart,...to the market, the school, the park...”

I ask one up front to write a sentence; my colleague Cayla tosses a ball around, each recipient standing to recite a sentence; I feel a light touch on my elbow, seeing earnest eyes and copied lesson, with words missing, letters reversed, but all replicated as diligently as possible for my corrections.  And I add them.  And I pat a thin shoulder,  “Good!”

Jesus - a small boy fleeing for His life 

They want to learn.  They try so hard.  They have come from so little, but they have all the heart and drive it takes to succeed if anyone in the world does, if they get just a tiny bit of help.  I’m overjoyed to help with this; it’s the best thing I can think of, seeing in these youngsters my Jesus, a small boy fleeing for His life to Egypt once, too.

By Janet Breen