She usually comes once every couple of weeks, sometimes once a week. The morning sun hasn’t yet developed into the hottest part of the day, so she puts her platter of mint on her head and makes her way around the neighborhood to see if anyone is interested in buying.
I don’t know how far she walks in a day. I don’t know how early she gets up to make breakfast for her family, pick her mint, wrap it in little bunches and set out on her search for clients. She always has a bright smile for me…I can never say no to mint.
She hands me the mint and I tuck a few coins in her hand. She has strong, workworn hands, and I think about how much those hands must do for her family. She is like so many other women I see around us – working hard to make whatever opportunities she can to support her family.
I can only feel a deep respect for her as I watch her gracefully put the platter back on her head, and continue on under the heat of the sun. We can’t communicate very much – she doesn’t speak much French, and I can’t speak her language – yet she teaches me through her actions.
I am face to face with sacrifice, with hard work and perseverance, with a willingness to do what needs to be done and it is always convicting. I watch her walk away and wish I knew her story.