Evelyn was my safe place in the midst of my chaos that I couldn’t often explain or make sense of in my 8 year old mind. The abuse that I survived, had just started but through it all, there was one thing I knew without a shadow of doubt, Evelyn loved me.

She made sure I knew it everyday that I was in her class.

This picture is one of my most precious possessions. My mother was in The Congo almost 3 years ago and brought it back for me. I literally sat with it and wept tears of joy and of pain.Let me tell you the story behind this picture of Evelyn. Evelyn was my school teacher when I was 8 years old. She was and still remains my favorite teacher in the world.

Evelyn loved her job and she loved me, she loved every child in the class. Most importantly for me, was that she LOVED me.Evelyn was my safe place in the midst of my chaos that I couldn’t often explain or make sense of in my 8 year old mind. The abuse that I survived, had just started but through it all, there was one thing I knew without a shadow of doubt, Evelyn loved me.She made sure I knew it everyday that I was in her class.Why did I weep when I was “reconnected” with my Evelyn?We were in the refugee camp in Malawi when I found out about her untimely death. She had died in France when I was 14 years old and I mourned her privately.

This picture is the only picture I have of her and which I had lost when we fled from the Congo.However, my Grandpapa, for some reason, had kept it for me. My Grandpapa (another story for another day) passed away nearly three years ago now. My Maman went to bury him in the DRC and she found the picture amongst his belongings.That’s when I cried. Tears of joy, because I could look at her wonderful face once again. I had been growing more terrified that I was beginning to forget what she looked like. I missed her. This picture proudly hangs on our family picture-wall. She will always be family. My Evelyn.