On Resurrection Sunday, all the children received Easter baskets and much-needed bibles. On Monday school was closed, Tuesday Fumba walks in jerking his body, lips pushed out. “Sis Hattie, they took my bible!” “Who?” My Uncle Thomas and my mother agreed, they said I should not have taken a bible because we are Muslim.” “No problem, I replied gently, just bring it back. We’ll give it to someone else.” “My Uncle Thomas said he was going to keep it.”
A few minutes later Sidiki (Muslim parents) walks in. “Sidiki, did your Pa see your bible?” “Yes, Sis Hattie, he took it and started reading it.” “What did he say?” “Nothing.” “Where is it now?” “It’s at the house.”
Yesterday, Mrs. Therea Borbor, stopped me on the road. “Sis Hattie, (smiling) so its only your children you care about, we the parents we can’t get bible? Those children were just teasing me the whole day. “Ah let’s see, my memory verse is Psalms 118:20. Yeah, yeah, here it is. It reads….” I told them children they were not correct. They couldn’t say to you. “Sis Hattie, I beg you, please put one bible to the side for our Ma.”
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