A BOY NAMED MITO

As an music artist you get used to sharing your music in front of crowds of people. Sometimes big crowds and many time small crowds but an audience none the less. When you move to a place like Mozambique that all changes. In fact an artist who makes a move like that is fully aware there may well never be an audience again other than the audience of ONE they are living for daily.

This thought was on the front of my mind as I walked out onto my porch to finish a song or two I had been writing to the Lord. Overlooking the south valley somewhere in central Mozambique, where the land is full of dense tall grass, covered in mango trees, dirt paths, and someone could be lost in an instant I sang out a chorus ironically. "The ancient of days has called me by name, hallelujah, hallelujah! How endless His love is, we're not forsaken, hallelujah, hallelujah!" In the middle of the singing I noticed 5 boys on the other side of the chain link fence walking as little ducklings youngest to oldest through the grass. Their ages ranged from I would think 9 years to 3 years old. The oldest of the bunch in the back began to hear the music and pointed getting his brothers attention. He was getting so excited that he was dancing and swinging his arms and legs for the others to see. As I waved back at them and smiled I also found myself walking out to the fence line continuing to play and sing. My chorus continued as we all stood face to face studying and staring at each other through a thin metal fence. Their eyes were full of joy and gratitude. When I finished they screamed for more. It was becoming obvious that they wanted to be on my side as badly as I wanted to understand and be on their side of the fence.

I asked them all their names in my best Portuguese. The oldest answered first saying his name was
Mito (Me-too). They went down the line telling me their names with pride and laughter. I asked them if they wanted to hear one more song. With very excited body language they answered yes! As I began to play a bouncy up beat chorus singing the words " The Joy of the Lord is our strength..." the boys clapped and began to dance, and dance, and dance some more. Mito kept staring at me with a grin from ear to ear with a look that would say "Wow, this man has stopped to play just for us". Who knows how far they had walked that day. Who knows if they even have parents. All I knew was they didn't want this moment to end, and neither did I. As the sacred moment drew to a close I told Mito the best I could that if he ever walked that road again and sees me to please say hi. His reaction was priceless. Beaming and excited in his best English he replied "Ok!"

I told them "muito prazer", which means pleasure to meet you. Then, I turned to walk back to the house. When I reached the patio I continued to strum the guitar and expected them to be gone. As I turned and looked down the road a thought came to my mind that Mito's name could easily have been 'Me too' in this situation. They wanted to be on my side of the fence and I thought well 'me too'. They didn't want to be alone and I thought well 'me too'. I began to sing out a song idea and allow tears to flow for what would be the next hour. As I began this time of processing this event with tears and guitar plucking I looked down the road and was shocked to see in the distance a yellow shirt and the eyes of .....you guessed it....Mito staring back at me as well. "Mito I hope you know your not alone," was my final thought as I began to write this song.