Pineapple Girl

She is so adorable. How could anyone harm her? Six years old and already lived sexual abuse that I don't even have the strength to listen to. Six years old and full of so much light, that spills out of her as she smiles. And after spending her first day at New Light underneath the desk which I was writing on top of Little Miss Squeaky Pineapple seems to have grown quite an attachment to me. Now every day that I come into the center it doesn't take her long to find me. The pattern goes something like this...a little scream from behind, the pattering of running naked feet on top of the stone floor, and then ...Attack! A collision later and she has grabbed hold of me, jumps up if I am standing or simply hugs my waist so tightly if I am sitting. Today was no exception:

“Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!” At which point I already turn around knowing what to expect.

Pat Pat Pat Pat Pat Pat as the feet come rushing towards me. Crush! Grab and Swing, as the swivel chair has to unexpectedly deal with a small tsunami.

And now we both sit here smiling. She has a shaved head today. Infected lumps of something, which meant that the hair had to go. She still looks beautiful. Short, Long or No Hair and Little Miss Squeaky Pineapple will still continue to shine and smile and giggle and laugh and want me to hug and hold her.

I will try and let her type:

hhhhmatmmadg

No she hasn't quite got the hang of it yet and her little hand just keeps resting on the mouse pad bringing up all sort of unwanted options. Now she just wants to touch the screen. Never mind, I will try and ask her to write to you some other time, however, its pretty hard considering that the little six year old can barely speak English – although she can smile SO much.

A little later and Little Miss Squeaky Pineapple has been collected and carted off by the teacher so many times I am beginning to think I should just save her the hassle and move into the classroom. We managed to have a small photo show before she was found the first time (after the failed typing experiment) and she went crazy, kicking her feet and jumping around on my knee, saying words to me which I have no idea what they mean, but which I repeated all the same between interjections of “Whale Shark! Manta Ray! Clown Fish (I won't say 'Nemo' as I am sure the film has no relevance what so ever for her) Lion Fish” as they flashed up before her amazed eyes. “Giant Moray Eel” – this one produced a reaction of even more kicks and squeals followed by a rather brave attempt to try and touch the screen. However, some quick thinking preemptive tickling and she was overcome by a fit of giggles. Next came some photos of me – hair down, bikini on, and my youngest scuba diver sitting at my side – eleven year old Akezjiah. Little Miss Squeaky Pineapple became extra excited at this photo. She touched my blue beaded bracelet on my wrist and then traced it on the screen, she pulled at my string necklace and then like a 'spot the difference game' tried to find my cowrie shell by peering down my kuta, only to find the silver charm from Mother Teresa via Mr Unconventional. She points to Akezjiah. “Ke?” She asks “Ke?” She points to the Me trapped in time and then returns to hit my face. She points to Akezjiah and then hits her own chest, little feet swinging and smile never ending. I reach over to click to the next photo and she pulls my arm back, she wants it around her and I am left trying to maneuver my left hand free from hers to show her move of this fantasy life under the sea but she stops me. She is fixated by the photo. Mesmorised. Staring deep inside. And then Slap! Two little hands on my cheeks followed by a Big Smiling Kiss.

The activity in the class room is growing more audible. As if reading my mind a stern voice shouts her name and she giggles into my kuta. Not wanting to betray her, but knowing our private movie showing of the Blue can't continue for much longer. I stand up. She holds on. Arms jump up to wrap around my neck and I walk like a clumsy overgrown kola into the class room. I try and put her down, but just like Gita she lifts up her feet in refusal. I turn around and sit her on a tactically placed bench. She climbs up and grins. I am left with the dilemma of how to break her fall but deposit her in class. Wheeeeeeeeeeeeee. And she Wins. I am back with a Little Miss Squeaky Pineapple hanging around my neck.