ELLE

Starting the Kind Strangers series to end the year. In the order I met them, let's talk about Elle.

Elle did not start out as someone I liked very much.

The Oratoire is a large, conscripted building in the old town Geneva, and like many old historical buildings in the area, it is not very easy to locate except one walks a few miles on a few narrow streets with names that refuse to stay on the lips no matter how long you've heard them. The bus stops at Palais Eynard, and either by intuition or Google map, knowing how way leads to way, one follows one of the many narrow street openings heading from the Palais. One sees the Oratoire fits itself unceremoniously into the walls, flanked by an old white building by the left, giving it some of its own old energy. Its small, flat brown doors give a brief view of its expansive depth. A row of stairs after, and a 30-second walk through a snowy trodden path if it was at the peak of winter, and you'd be confronted with a real door, which opens onto another door by the left and another row of stairs by its right.

This is where you would meet me and tens of youths in Geneva every Tuesday evening studying the bible until near midnight. On my first day at the Oratoire, I met Elle. She spoke briefly, but it's the kind of voice that keeps singing in your ears minutes after it’s done and I thought I knew her from somewhere. In fact, I was convinced what her name was and where we met. So even though it was never me to be the first to say hi, or go up to anyone. Even though, the first thing my instinct shouted was to leave immediately after the grace, and since I was already sitting by the door, I could leave. But I rushed to meet Elle to introduce myself. And asked if she was the one I met at this event.

?I will never forget the slow turn. The uncertainty and distance and cold I read first in her body and then in her face before it came out in her voice, despite the permanent smile she had on. She said it was not her, and we did not exchange much afterwards. Someone else was pressing on her. I am not sure if it was her I hated that minute or myself that I broke my own rules. But the night was enjoyable. Worship got into my head, and I forgot myself. But not for too long.

Every Tuesday after that, I made sure to never cross her path. Until another event that would happen 4 months later. This time, we were at a retreat with the group somewhere in the beautiful countryside of France. If you end up spending 2 nights together. Staying under a small roof. Meeting and cooking together in a kitchen. Taking the cleaning task together. Sitting by the piano in the living room and listening at midnight to soulful music. There is a tendency that convictions can change. Maybe this person is not mean. Maybe it was a brutal misunderstanding. See the way she smiled at me now? Did you hear how she just asked me that sincere question? My guard was weaning. On the last night there. We gathered again in worship. And I went straight to where she sat with one other person and sat next to her.

I counted. It took less than 3 minutes for her to stand up and go sit somewhere else. Right far and opposite throughout the session and I was left with this gap. This glaring gap beside me and inside me.? Do I smell? I asked a friend after the worship. She gave me a weird look "No, you don't" she said. It easy to be friends with people who don't ask many questions on days like this. With that, I concluded, honest to God, that maybe some people are all sweet and cherry, and that's for show. Elle is for show. And I don’t like people who are for show.

Until one Tuesday. Lena said we are relaxing the rule: No study today, just a playful auction. Lena asked us all to bring what we would like to auction. An activity.? A skill. Want to give out a special dinner? A trip to CERN? Bring or write down At least two activities or items and submit them for auction. items go to the highest bidder. Elle came late on this day and sat just beside me. We greeted and even shared a little laugh, but nothing more. The bid started. The items I brought were just two: How to make a jollof rice class for one person at my place, and a customised poem for a lucky bidder.

James, the chief auctioneer, said we should bid carefully. Anything could happen. You could end up with a best friend. Or an activity that will change your life forever. And he gave a few examples of past results. It sounded even more interesting. I won my first bid. It was a promenade in the old town with someone who knows the history of that place, ending at a slow chat at a café. My jollof rice class went swiftly, but not for much money. So did the customised poem. Someone wanted to help make a Spotify playlist; someone was offering a boat cruise. A finance masterclass.. A coaching session. A dinner. Lots of food. There were a few of those that were exciting for me. Like the boat cruise. The last of my money had gone for a very big one. Someone, a coach, was offering a 6-week coaching session on getting unstuck professionally. Finally. That was it. I thought I had hit the jackpot. I kept on bidding until I was the last bidder standing. While I was excited, I was not particularly sure what I was getting doing,? who this person offering the session was and how it would go, but it sounded too exciting.

I got the document containing the bidding details, and it turned out that my coach, and for the next 6 weeks would be her. ELLE. Elle the snub. Elle who has not been kind to me. ELLE. Who had been faking it. ELLE?

That night, we exchanged contact. That night I knew what her WhatsApp DP looked like. We made the final plans on when to start, and she suggested we could make it in person. I would be meeting? Elle every week for at least 2 hours for 6 weeks, getting unstuck. Just the person I don't want to know how stuck I was.? But it was too late. I decided to just get into it and see just what she was going to do.

Elle and I started running into each other out of the blue. We started getting into the same bus to get to the Oratoire on Tuesdays. And at some point, she had to point it out. Oh, yes, I have noticed too. But roads lead to roads. You know,

Week one, and I soon find myself opening up to Elle. I was indeed stuck. I knew I had some struggles. I was grieving leaving a sector that had meant everything to me. I wanted so badly to remain in peacebuilding. I had shaped my life to focus on nothing else. It was a life mission. I had given everything to it, but there I was, staring out in a sector totally different. Wondering what had happened? Where had I missed it? What did I do wrong? I had thought everything was leading up nicely. And just at the prime of it, I was totally removed from my passion and left with no choice but to stick to my technical, The I-can-do-this-but-I'd-rather-not kind of living. I was sad, confused, and was planning my route out. But I felt it impressed strongly in my heart to stay at my job. So there I was, unsatisfied. I was indeed stuck. Everything just was not playing out well. It was unfair. And I didn’t mean to say all this. I did not mean to explain to Elle that I was struggling. That people would kill for my job, but it's not my thing. ?That I sleep crying on most days because I don’t feel I have made any worthwhile contributions. That work is an important part of my life, and I don’t know how to live without any other way.?

It was not the response I was waiting for. There were no prescriptive toolboxes. And somehow, week after week, I was looking forward too eager to meet. Too eager to read a book she recommended. To fill the workbooks. Take a test she sent. Share an opinion about something that might be totally different from what she thinks. We still met on buses, and I didn't walk past her with a brief hi. I walked at small paces. Elle never wears a frown. Never let it be known the world might be falling on her end, too. Elle always wanted to cheer. It might be raining, and thunder might be striking at the same time, but Elle would tell you at least the rain will make the land fertile. That was how I came to know Elle.? Before long, I was looking ahead. I was no longer wondering what I had done wrong to deserve my job but what new dreams I could pursue.

Before long, I was inviting Elle to my birthday. And that night, as I chipped into the poetry list a poem I had hoped no one would ever ask me to read, it was Elle who broke the silence that night. Nervousness got my tongue-tied, and I was not sure where to start. "I have a poetry request", She said while checking the menu I sent to everyone just 5 minutes before then.? Can you read "Love and other drugs” I protested, "Another one please" But Elle wanted that one. And soon enough everyone joined her in insisting. And soon enough I was reading the most heartfelt poem I composed this year, and soon enough it was 3 hours.

Although now very far away on another continent from me, Elle was the first person I wished happy Thanksgiving on Thursday. And I hope when she reads it waking up while I am going to sleep, she will see all of my heart and gratitude -the spoken and the unspoken.

I have had a few relational problems this year. And sometimes, I have gone ahead to blame myself for breaking my own rules. This year I was not so careful. I let down my guard a lot and I have even been hurt by taking all those risks. Been very hurt. But on many nights, when I am on my knees seeking succour. I come to the place of questions. Do you regret doing this? Letting yourself go? Being the first to say hi, going in for a hug? Lingering just a bit after the event is over? Do you regret letting people in? I think of Elle. I think of all the kind strangers I have met who have remained. Helped me through my most dismal moments, and I know without thinking that I will do this again, even at the risk of heartbreak.

Thank you, Elle.