My P4 English teacher.

As I write this blog post, a special woman is on my mind. I met her over 2 decades ago. Her name was Jennifer and she was my P4 English teacher. As we commemorate World Aids Day I think of her.

Ms. Jennifer was one of the most beautiful women I met in my first 8 or 9 years on this planet. She was probably in her early twenties, young, graceful and energetic. When she walked into the classroom a pleasant aroma filled the air. Her clothes fit just right, gently hugging her tall slender frame. Her big Afro was smooth like a curved sponge. I remember how she'd use the tip of a pencil to sooth the itch on her scalp while I dug into mine with all five fingers.
I was never afraid of her, mostly respectful. She didn't see reason to spank unless one clearly misbehaved  or failed English terribly but that was hardly ever the case. I loved to listen as she read excerpts from J.A.Bright's Junior English Composition and Grammar and The Nile English Course.
She was a confident, African woman, who had mastered the English language teaching us verbs, nouns, pronouns, adverbs, adjectives and more. I admired her.
I joined the Girl Guides club because she was one of the patrons. She taught me how to salute, to stand "at ease" with my feet slightly apart and my hands in a loose grip behind my back and to stand "alert" with my feet together and my hands in tight fists at my side. She smiled with pride when we sang the girl guide anthem she's taught us;
"Our way is clear as we march on and see our flag on high.
Is never furled through out the world for hope shall never die.
We must unite for what is right in friendship true and strong.
Until the earth in it's real birth shall sing a song, shall sing a song".

I caught a glimpse of her one late afternoon, while I was making my way through the taxi park . People pushed and shoved, conductors shouted taxi destinations, mini vans filled every little space. I had to wiggle my way through the micro spaces but I couldn't wade through the crowd fast enough. She looked a little haggard, her cheekbones were more pronounced, her clothes hang loosely on her tall frame. Her light beautiful skin was riddled with dark spots. My heart sunk as I watched her fade away.  The virus hadn't spared her. It didn't honor her beauty nor esteem her purpose here.
Many little girls and boys will not have the opportunity to sit in her class and listen to her read stories from J.A Bright.
I'm told she passed away.
Today I think of her, of Mr. Tibs, Mr. Sande, Mr.Zaddock and many other young men and women who caught the virus and were not even aware that it was lurking out there.
Then I think again - the means by which she met her end doesn't matter as much as her impact this side of heaven and more importantly if she made her way into the Pearly gates.
Right now, I'm grateful that she taught me English. Even though she is gone, it's a language that I will always know and remember her by.

Let us thank God for friends and family who have gone. Love and care for those who are still here battling this disease. And carefully steer clear of it's way; be faithful, abstain ... you know the works.

World Aids Day!

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