More Valuable than Gold
I wish you were here. I wish I could take you by the hand, and sit you next to me on Hannah’s couch. So you can feel the warmth of her energy in person.
When we knocked on her door, Hannah shrieked playfully, “You have arrived early. Don’t film me yet - I haven’t done my hair!” We laughed and nodded in understanding. She ducked into the next room, her hand placed squarely over her headscarf.
Her modest house contained one small common room, flanked by two simple quarters on either side. A single light bulb hung from the tin roof. Dozens of baby chicks chirped relentlessly outside.
I sat on her couch and admired the walls. Every inch was covered with images: soccer posters, yellowed calendars and wall hangings. Looking closer I saw one small hand-stitched embroidery, with a bible verse. Surrounded by happy flowers it read, “To whom much is given, much is expected.”
Once outside, we treaded carefully down a steep slope to her small garden. We walked through trees until we reached a clearing where the sky opened up before us. Fruits and vegetables of every variety lay in neat little rows. Huge fuchsia flowers bloom wildly along her fence. It’s an unexpected Eden.
Carefully, Hannah went to work.
Her farming business has tripled since she purchased her irrigation pump, a fact she is keenly aware of.
After Hannah finished her watering, she grabbed an old bucket, filled it with water from her small well, and did something unexpected. She began painstakingly washing every inch of her pump free of mud and dirt. Carefully. Methodically. As if she was caring for a precious child.
After twenty long minutes, she carefully took her pump, laid it on a plastic tarp, and tied it up with string. I asked if she did this routine every day.
“No,” Hannah replied. “Plants only need to be watered every other day.”