Josefa's Birthday

(Josefa and Rachel)

They moved. Their old house was demolished. It wasn’t much of a house: made of taipa (Clay, mud, and sticks), but every time I visited, seven girls came scrambling out of it to greet me: Karla, Rosilda, Mariana, Camila, Rosineide, Josefa, and Rosana. I had known Karla since 2004, when I first visited Living Stones. She was five at the time.  

(Karla in 2004)

The first time I went to their house, Rosana was a week old. Josefa was peeking out the back room, with their pet pigeon walking around behind her. The smell of trash floated in from the nearby dump, where the girl’s father works, sorting out whatever is recyclable from the piles of trash. No gloves.

(L to R: Camila, Mariana, Josefa, Rosana, Mother, Rosilda)

Their house was easy to get to, so I started making more stops there. I took more pictures. I sat and talked to their mother, as she invited me in to sit on their small ragged sofa. The girls would giggle and come around me, asking me questions. For Christmas one year, I gave them their first Barbie. One Barbie for seven girls.

Last year Living Stones began the $10 for Them program, celebrating the children’s birthdays. Their house was my first stop to get a list of names and birthdays to celebrate. I asked the girls when their birthday was. They didn’t know. That didn’t surprise me—but I was sure their mother would know. She didn’t. She had me wait, standing on the dirt floor of their two bedroom house, while she went and found a folder with all of their important papers.

She handed me the girls’ birth certificates. I wondered why she didn’t just give me the dates, but then realized later it was because she didn’t know how to read. Balancing the papers on my knees, I wrote out the dates and told them I would be back to celebrate their birthdays. Rosana, the youngest, didn’t have a birth certificate, so we figured between a couple days when she was born (from when I had first visited), and decided her birthday would be December 3^rd.

(L to R: Karla, Rosana, Mother, Josefa, Camila, Mariana, Rachel)

Today was the first of the girls’ birthdays: Josefa turned 5 today. When I got there, their house was demolished, currently becoming an extension of our “highway” which will go from two lanes to four lanes in a couple years. I walked until I found someone who knew where they moved to and pointed me in the right direction.

Up one hill and down another, I heard a rooster, a goat, and a frog. Not far off the main road, but in a very poor part of town, looking up the side of one hill I saw two little naked girls, belly’s sticking out like pictures of Africa. I wandered a bit further until I heard someone yell out of a window, “Hey—it is that girl from that church program!”

With the money the government gave them for their taipa house, they were able to get a larger, basic brick house. The mother is so happy. She gave me a big hug and proudly showed me around, looking smug at the wardrobe and TV she was able to purchase as well. “The money is all gone, but we are happy and have what we need,” she said. I still have never heard Rosana speak, and Josefa’s words are few and far between. But the older girls made up for it, telling me all about what I had missed since seeing them last year.

After the first excitement was over, I told the girls why I came today—especially today. “It is Josefa’s birthday! She is 5 today!” It was an exciting announcement: no one knew. After the cheers died down, they waited to see what that meant. They have never celebrated their birthdays. Ever. The green bag I carry around is never empty, and today it was overfull: first came the cake. Josefa’s eyes got big as she saw her first birthday cake. She ran to the back room with excitement and shyness. Her mom hauled her out and I handed her the birthday glasses.

The rest of the children laughed as I said, “Let’s sing ‘Happy Birthday’!” Some of the older ones knew it from school, but my voice was the only confident one, as this is not a common song for them. Josefa ran away again. One big piece for Josefa, one for Camila, and Rosana was too shy to take one, but eagerly accepted it from her mother as she started picking off and eating the sprinkles one by one.

We munched cake and smiled for a bit, and I got down on my knees and asked Josefa if she knew how old she was. She shook her head. “When people ask, you say ‘I am five,’ and hold your hand like this” I told her, showing five fingers. “Five.” She repeated quietly. I wonder how much of this she understands. This day had been just like any other until I showed up five minutes earlier.

“Well, we had cake, we had the special glasses, we took pictures, and we sang happy birthday—we just have the presents left. You don’t like presents, do you, Josefa?” I teased. She nodded her head violently and her eyes got wide as I pulled out her present. She ran with it to the other room, the rest of her sisters following. Her mom hauled her back out again, saying, “Tia Rachel wants to see you open it.” One by one she pulled out the toys and glowed.

Camila remarked: "Do you know when my birthday is? Don't forget to come again!" Her birthday is in April if you would like to help donate for her party at www.wribrazil.com/10forthem

I left soon afterwards, after taking a picture of the girls’ brother (apparently, there are two boys as well, making a total of nine kids), the six puppies, and their new home. As I stepped out of the gate, Josefa ran to me and looked up: “Are you my Tia (Auntie)?” she asked. Yes, darling, Yes, my heart burst—I guess I am your Auntie.

My eyes filled with tears after I reached the main road and got a Kombe (VW van) ride back to my apartment. Josefa will never know how much her question meant to me. It was the simple conclusion of a little girl who had this woman suddenly pop into her life with special things. Who brought pictures, when she had never seen them before. Who brought presents. Who came from somewhere very far, far  away.

But for me it meant so much more. For me it meant she accepted me as family. That I was part of her life. And Josefa also didn’t know that I am an Auntie, and my one nephew has the same birthday that she does. My nephew turned 2  today. And I am very far away. I was in the country for his birth, but haven’t been able to celebrate any birthdays with him. Every time I return to the USA, we begin again: Hello, I am Rachel. I am your Auntie who lives very far away—but that doesn’t mean I don’t love you.

Maybe it isn’t changing the world to carry around a green bag with a birthday cake, knife, napkins, birthday classes, and presents. But to me it is. To Josefa it is. It changes her world. It means she has an Auntie. It means I have a niece. It means we are connected by love that reaches out and gives. Love that includes sacrifice and being away from home and 2^nd birthdays. Love that says “God made you and you are special. He has a plan for you, and it is something beautiful. And right now, He is celebrating your birthday too, because you are worth celebrating and remembering.”