The Batwa live, all too often, in dire conditions. They know what it is to be on the edge, to experience the soul-shredding of destitution. Yet, they demonstrate this deep truth that those who know how to mourn, know how to dance.

Christy Jones is a tenured teacher on sabbatical in Burundi. She lives in Bujumbura and has befriended the Batwa students in the Community For Burundi home. She spends a few days a week with them conducting English classes, at the request of the Batwa Committee who want their students to have every opportunity to advance in their education. So Christy, who knows no Kirundi and a scant bit of French, walks to their home to offer her language and teaching talents. She often takes a translator to assist in the communication necessary for learning, but she seems to always have compassion as her companion when she walks across the threshold of their home.

She shares of a recent visit to the Batwa students. She walked over to see the students in their new home and welcome them. While she was with them, they couldn’t help but ask about when their English lessons would begin. So an impromptu lesson emerged as they sat in the front room of the house. It was more a time for Christy to access their current understanding of English, but they were so excited to be trying their greetings and vocabulary out with their new teacher and friend. Apparently there was a good bit of confusion and laughing during that first session together.

When it was time for Christy to leave the house, she began to make her way to the door. But the this handful of students slowed her pace with an invitation – ‘can we sing for you?’ She wouldn’t dare resist such an offer… so they began to sing for her. Christy described the song as the most joyful sound she ever heard, such perfect harmony and full-bodied sound coming from these new friends. She shared how hard it was to contain the tears that such deep beauty provoked in her heart. All she did was share a bit of her language and time – but the students saw more. They felt her embrace and promise of friendship; they saw how she recognized their potential and her growing confidence in them. And they had to respond; they had to give a gift. So they sang a song that she could carry home in her heart, a song that she hummed on her walk down the dusty road home and ever since.

Apparently, those who have mourned and been despised also know how to sing.