A Girl Named Shaima

Little girl: “Are you Italian?”
Connie and I: “No.”
Little girl: “Do you have Facebook?”
Connie and I: “No.”

She is just a girl, probably ten years old. We bumped into her while Julien was buying water at small stall in Teboursouk, Tunisia. I don’t know what made her to ask that annoying question. While we were having dinner, suddenly, she came and joined our table. The way she talked is like an adult, as if she knows everything. Before we left, she offered us to sleep at her place. We refused because we intended to take any car to Tunis. Tomorrow is Monday, no more weekends for us.

Then, the next thing happened was, we walked to her home, six of us, plus her Dad and Dad’s friend. They saved us, we almost headed to forest, a place we thought there will be bus to Tunis tonight. Oh ya, her name is Shaima. She holded my hand tightly along the way and said “Ulka is beautiful. I love Ulka,” many times. Finally, we arrived at Shaima’s house, a simple one, unfinished and needed more construction. But their hospitality is unbelievable, more than rich people with perfect house. We had a big dinner together with all family members, the menus are noodle, chicken, Coke and Boga. The generousity and warmth of family have made the dinner, simply, the best one I have ever had.

Before sleep, we had some chit chat that explained, why Shaima looks more mature than her age. She is the oldest child in family and always takes care of three sisters and one brother. Moreover, she got first rank at school, ever since first year. I was sleepy when I found out that there is no enough place to sleep for all of us. We slept at the living room on bedcovers. “Papa will sleep outside with goats. Mama will sleep at kitchen,” Shaima said to me. I felt guilty to hear that.

Tomorrow morning, we left when sun was rising on eastern horizon. Such a meaningful experience from a family who has nothing but gave us everything. You just need a big heart to help others, indeed. Thank you Shaima.