Spit Boy

It’s time I wrote a bit about the kids I meet in the places I visit. Their big white smiles in their dark faces always make me smile in response. That then sometimes causes a giggle-and-run as they’re awkward about the white woman noticing them. They’re back soon enough, to see what strange thing I’ll do next.

Kids, floral confetti and hand carved guitars in church
(I.Glissmann)

I’ve already mentioned the passionate singing of the kids in church on Djaul, but like all kids, they got bored during the long sermon. Some of them entertained themselves by carefully dismembering any flowers they could get hold of from the decorations. The result was floral confetti over the church floor, which was beautiful in its own way.

Often the kids around us are dealing with a mix of curiosity and caution. They want to know who we are and what we are up to, but if they’ve not been to town too often, may not be used to white people and are not quite sure if we’re to be trusted. I recognise that mix and try to be friendly without being scary.

On Djaul Island we must have succeeded in moving from foe to friend as the kids took to crowding around us. There was one particular pair of boys who took to watching our every move very closely. A little too closely much of the time. They enjoyed watching me type at the computer, with every little thing being new and of interest. They even enjoyed watching the blue circle go around and around!

Unfortunately one of the boys was practising chewing buai and developing his spitting skills. Spitting on Djaul is an art. There are few red blobs on the ground, but the entire mouth of spit is aerosolised into a cloud of red that dissipates into the air. I thought about practising with my mouth full of toothpaste one night, but expected it would end in a minty disaster, so left it to the experts.

This boy was still learning to spit well, but that did not stop him spitting all the time, even when right beside me. At one point he was even under the table where we were working and spitting there. I was not impressed. In fact, I was rather grossed out by the whole affair.

That night when my workmates and I were sharing time together in prayer, my prayer was for Spit Boy, that he might nurture his natural curiosity and use it to discover more of God’s glory…but please God, keep him at a safe distance until then! I believe in honesty in prayer, but this was apparently a little too honest for my workmates, as rather than an amen, we ended with a fit of giggles.

The next day, Spit Boy stayed at a safe distance all morning. After lunch he started to return to us, edging across a bench during one of the teaching sessions. Just when I was thinking ‘here we go again!’, he fell asleep, half on the bench and half off. An answer to prayer? I like to think so!

Suddenly sleepy Spit Boy (R.Drew)