Teresa

All of them smiled when they saw me. Then it was the regular routine – the distribution of toys and books, the children begging me to pick them up and fondle them… just like they did to her. Alisha. Once again, I was struck by how much she had done for these little ones. How much she had inspired me to do the same.

Yes, I am talking about the children in an orphanage. Just looking at their little faces gives me pleasure. Most of them are aged below eight and have been here was as long as they can remember. What? You are asking about Alisha? Well…

* * *

Alisha and I had been best friends since we were five. We were in the same school, same class. She used to visit this orphanage every week after school. One day, she insisted I come too. We were nine then. I really didn’t want to go, but I went anyway. I remember how I had looked at the children in disgust. Their grubby faces, their dirty clothes…ugh! I stayed as far away as I could. But Alisha was different. The children had crowded around her as soon as she arrived. It was clear that they knew and loved her. Apparently, she did too. She picked them up in her arms one by one, ruffled their hair, tickled and cuddled them. She gave them the toys and clothes she had brought for them. It was their smile. It was the wide smiles that made me realize how happy the became in small things that we took for granted.

Next time we went, I brought some toys and other things too. These visits became a habit. Now we would visit the orphanage twice a week. We used to enjoy our visits as much as the children loved them. But it was still Alisha who was always the centre of attention. I never felt jealous. I felt proud. Proud that she was my friend. I remember what the caretaker of the orphanage told me once, “That friend of yours truly is a miracle”. She was. Right until the end.

We were twelve at that time. We were at the orphanage playing with the children when we heard the first shot. We rushed outside. What we saw shocked us…it shocks me to this very day. There were men, who had come to take the orphans so that they could sell them off as slaves. I was scared. I hid. But of course, Alisha did not hide. Instead, she confronted the men. Ignoring her, the men began to pull out the children from the room roughly, while the children shouted, screamed and cried. This was too much for Alisha. She lunged at one of the men, who pushed her aside roughly. Alisha fell on the ground…and stood up again. She began punching the men randomly. So hard that she even drew out blood from several. In a fit of rage, a man pulled out his gun and shot. The bullet hit its target. I watched as my best friend fell to the ground, bleeding. Everything went black.

I woke up in a hospital room. My mother was sitting by my side. “Alisha?”, I asked weakly. My mother shook her head sadly.

I came to know later that the police had come and arrested the men. None of the children were harmed. I and Alisha were rushed to the hospital, where she was declared dead.

* * *

I am thirteen now. I still visit the orphanage. It is where I am now. Thankfully, the children don’t ask too many questions about Alisha. All I hope is, just as she inspired me, I will inspire someone else.

My name? Anjezë Gonxhe. Better known to you all as Mother Teresa.