One day I will never forget

One day last week, I coaxed Dad into taking me to the village that is about a half of a mile from the old rent house. I had gone the day before by myself and taken pictures of all the little dirty children. That was one of the highlights of my week. Dad was willing and eager to go after what I had told him. So we picked up our cameras and set off. We reached the village and went in with an escort of about thirty kids by our sides, all laughing and giggling and talking over the pictures we were taking of them. It was so sweet when one little girl shyly went up to Dad and put her hand inside his. He smiled down at her, and she beamed up at him. I already had two little ones pulling me along, and one hanging on to my shatanga. When we stopped, all the kids that could push their way to the front, crowded around and put their faces up to my lens and tried to look through. It was so funny to see their look of bewilderment when all they could see was darkness. “How then can Auntie Sarah get a picture of me on that black hunk of something if I can not see into it?” I can still see their faces!
Dad met a man that was going through the village wearing a suit and tie, and the shiniest black and white shoes I have ever seen. Of course we were curious, so we asked him what he was doing there. He spoke very good English, and told us that he was there to get his choir organized. He invited us to his practice and then led us to a hut where four of the Chimwemwe ladies were sitting. They got up, formed into a circle, and were joined by two of the older boys that were in our escort. The man informed us that they would be singing in five different dialects, so that we probably would not understand them. As they started singing, they began clapping and dancing. Every minute their voices grew in strength. I think the closest to the singing in heaven I have ever been to has been in Africa. In America, everyone listens to other people sing, but rarely sing them selves. In Africa, if they want music, they have to make it. Everyone has a beautiful voice here, and everyone knows the meaning of harmony, which makes it all the better. Daddy has recorded some of the singing, so when we get back, we will not loose the memory of it.
As we were leaving, Daddy said to me, ”Sarah, this is one day we will never forget.” And he is right. I will never forget it.