“Did you girls practice?”

Before ending our fourth teaching session at Light in Africa, Edward and I had given the girls the assignment of practicing on their own and adding their own lines to the play. We didn’t have much time left before the showcase and we wanted the girls to spend more than the daily hour we got to work with them perfecting their play and getting into character.

The girls in my group look at each other nervously, before finally agreeing, “Yes!”

Sensing the hesitation in their response, I ask once more. “Did you girls practiced?”

They agree in unison this time, but I had my suspicion that it wasn’t true.

Before I can grill the girls about it one last time, I realize we have two new members to our group.

“Karibu sana, girls! Welcome to our group! What are your names?”

Upendo, meaning love in Swahili, and Angel.

Just as I ask the girls what roles they think our new cast members should act in our play, I figure there is a better way to do this.

“Instead, let’s go through the play once, so Upendo and Angel can learn the lines, and then we wi—”

“We already know the lines,” Upendo softly declares.

“I’m sorry?” I question, asking for clarification. It’s not that I didn’t hear her. I just couldn’t believe what I heard.

“We already know the lines,” she repeats once more.

“You, already know the lines?!” I exclaim in excited disbelief.

“Yes,” she says, as if not knowing why I’m so shocked.

An enormous sense of pride comes over me! I feel foolish for doubting my girls to begin with!

Of course, they would practice! Without a doubt, they’d be prepared! They couldn’t get enough of this!

I watch the girls perform the play, Upendo and Angel fully integrated into the story line and my jaw has permanently attached itself to the floor. How long would they have had to practice in order to master this? How long did they recite the words in their head, in a language not their own, in order to pronounce the words as properly as they were?

I take a quick glimpse at Edward and realize, he is proud too. We lock eyes, and the sentiment is shared without the need for words.

The girls finish the play and my hand cannot clap together loud enough to express my great pride in their work. I see the smiles on their faces in knowing they made Edward and I proud.

After a long speech about what an incredible job they did, we decided to add one more scene to finish it off.

Given the need for fill two more roles, the girl shuffled themselves into the roles they knew each other would do best.

Edward and I step back and let the girls work their magic.

We run the play one more time, now with the added scenes and once again, the girls executed the play perfectly, even improvising some of 

 the new lines.

Just as I go to congratulate the girls once more, they stop me.

“Ariana, a song?” they ask.

“A song? You want to do a song?”

Once the girls began, they didn’t do a song. They did four!

I became weak at the knees as I watched my girls perform their songs in perfect harmony. I was overflowing with pride and gratitude towards them.

I reflected back on the shy girls that were selected for my group. The sky girls that were now adding their own lines and sing songs with joy.

As the teaching session came to an end, I hugged each of the girls individually.

“Great job, girls!”

I ask them if they wanted Edward and I to come back later that night to watch them practice one last time before the showcase day. They nodded eagerly.

Of course, they would want more practice! Without a doubt, they’d want to be prepared! They couldn’t get enough of this!

And neither could we.