a talent show and a lesson in humility

This year was the second annual Christmas Day Talent Show at the orphanage. The talent show is an opportunity for anyone/everyone to show off random skills in front of a receptive and boisterous crowd. Children and team members are all encouraged to sign up. It’s a fun event that everyone looks forward to!

This year the acts included a lot of dancing and singing. Some people had clearly prepared for it, some winged it. Avis, Jennifer and their group signed (as in sign language) a song and then taught the rest of us as they performed it. Nicky and Sam got the crowd all excited with some rap and break dancing. A four-year-old newcomer to SMK, Gia, did this crazy fantastic Janet Jackson kind of dance that brought everyone to their feet screaming for more. The yoga kids gave a demonstration of poses, and the marching band played a couple songs. The show went on for a good hour or so. Every act was wonderful and was well received.

I used to know how to juggle.

That is actually a stretch. I could kind of juggle. My brother Ben taught me. At the peak of my career as a juggler I could go, umm, maybe twenty seconds before I began dropping balls.

Back in September, I thought to myself: Self, if you buy some nice juggling balls and allow lots of time for practice, you could WOW the kids at the orphanage with your amazing juggling skills at the talent show. They probably have never even heard of juggling. And won’t they be impressed when it’s Mama G., of all people, who is the one performing such a rare and difficult feat?

(Yes, it’s sad but true. I started planning my talent show act three months in advance. And yes, it’s sad but true. I thought orphaned kids in Uganda had never heard of juggling.) But let me go on.

OK, so I bought a set of really nice, colorful balls. I set aside a few minutes each day to practice, having to start at the beginning with just two balls, since it had been so long since I had dabbled in the sport. By early December, I had gotten to a place where I felt pretty smug about my abilities. Then I figured I would buy some kazoos. What better way to back-up an amazing juggler than with a band of adorable kid kazoo players? I even threw in a couple recorders and whistles, figuring my band should be as textured as possible.

I am susceptible to stage fright.

That is no stretch. But once at SMK I bravely went forward and recruited some kids to be in my back-up band and taught them how to play kazoos. (They had never heard of kazoos. Who knew?) The lessons were short and sweet. All I had to do was tell them to hum a song. We picked out a few songs everyone knew, and we were good to go.

I continued to practice in the solitude of my hotel room, assuring the kazoo band there would be an act of unbelievable, dazzling effect to accompany their enthusiastic tooting of Frere Jacques.

Then one day when I was on a walk with some of the kids, Issy picked a few berries from some tree and stuck them in her pocket. I asked why. She said: “Later, I want to juggle.”

WHAT? I mean: what?

“Yes, like this,” she politely explained. She began to casually juggle five very tiny berries (which my 56-year-old eyes could barely make out) right there in the bright midday sun.

Fast forward to the talent show.

Issy got the balls; I played (badly) one of the recorders. She was amazing.

See for yourself here.

I am always, always surprised by and delighted with the talents these children (nonchalantly) possess.

[Thanks to Brian and Jeff for the video.]