Mama Shujaa

She sat on his lap knees bent and clasped around his thighs like a bird with its wings folded. But her squat was lose enough so as not to hamper her movement up and down, around and around. I stared at them in disbelief as a handful of soccer players emerged out of the parking lot. "Hey dudes, check out those two making out," their voices cracked in collective boy-man giggles, as they proceeded through the gates to the soccer field. It was a few minutes to two on the first sunny Sunday afternoon after Snowmageddon , perfect weather for the season-opening scrimmage between the junior varsity and varsity boys. I turned back to the trunk of my car, preoccupied by the mouth-to-mouth resuscitation the two were now engaged in. I tossed my handbag and sweater into the trunk and headed through the gates to the field. They were seated at the rear of the stadium on the raised ledge of the back wall, in plain view through the wide railings. A disturbance in my mind that hampered m

Ever present in my mind is that I cannot reasonably measure the dimension of the time in which I got to know her. In retrospect, the three months feel like forever. Because she was an impact player.  I joined the team, she passed the ball, trusting and expecting execution. She was a leader who subscribed to the excellence that resides in all. The force of her buoyant spirit is fixed in my memory. In appreciation of a coworker who recently passed away to cancer. Siku Njema, Mama Shujaa.