Knock Knock: Part II

The last time I answered the door on a Saturday morning, I was greeted by an aggressive drunk man with half a skinned donkey slung over his shoulder who was interested in getting friendly. So, needless to say, I was expecting something outside of the ordinary when I heard the voices of two learners yelling, "Miss! Miss!" at our window this afternoon.

I walked into the kitchen where Kennedy and Elvis, two Grade 5s, peeped through the burglar bars above our kitchen counter. "Hello?" I said.

"Hello Miss! We just wanted to show this bird!"

"Bird?" I said. "What bird?"

And from below the window ledge, two tiny hands lifted a broken branch where a small brown and very wild bird perched silently. Still alive, but paralyzed by what I can only imagine was pure fear.

"Is it real?" I asked.

(Sure, I could practically see its heart beating through its little feathered chest. But never in my life have I known someone capable of catching a wild bird with bare hands...But then, never in my life have I lived in Africa.)

"Yeah," they said. "It was flying in the kitchen and we just caught it there."

"Oh," I said...Of course.