The Saxophonist
She caught my attention again. Her face was unmistakable. This is the face I saw yesterday. Yesterday was the penultimate day of our annual Deeper Life Bible Church National December Retreat for the year 2019.
Late yesterday evening, I was moving from one group to another, to capture more interesting shots. I was now in the childrenโs church. The children's choir was rendering a special number. The choir coordinator, a boy of about twelve years, was standing on an elevated bench. It was already dark. But even with a poorly lit stage, the joy and the passion of her heart shone through her lively eyes as her fingers deftly plucked out soul-thrilling hymns from her saxophone.
Today, our retreat program ended. Picking my steps through the cavernous auditorium of the church building, I again spotted her outside near the printing press. She was at her thing again, playing some tunes to a lively audience slowly milling around her. Their average age was about the same as hers. I was to learn later on that she was twelve years old.
It was then, I inquired to confirm my hunch.
โYou were the one I saw at the children's choir orchestra yesterday?โ
โYes, I was the one.โ
Leaning on the wall, I prodded her to play on while I admiringly snapped away with my Canon Powershot. After several frame shots, I removed my Infinix Zero5 phone, prodding her on as I intended to video her. She graciously obliged me, tidied up her black skirt and blouse, and get her headscarf in place. Her petite figure with her simple dress matched perfectly with her golden musical instrument.
One after the other, the songs started streaming out of her saxophone deftly under the control of her dexterous fingers. Occasionally, a slight disapproving grimace shows on her face when her instrument fails to cooperate. But she carried on graciously with unrelenting persistence.
โWhatsoever, you do the least of my brethren, that you do unto meโฆ โ
Next comes one of the churchโs favorite songs, โโฆ Jesus, only, Jesus ever, Jesus all in all we sing โฆ โ More songs were to pour out later in quick successions.
A few more minutes later, it was time for me to move on. But her mesmerizing tunes lingered in my heart. Turning to her in appreciation, I asked, โCan I have your mumโs number? I will send her this video clip along with the other shots. โ Her elder sister wrote their mumโs name and number for me.
โMake sure it is a WhatsApp number.โ
Her younger sister, quipped in, โMy mum's phone is a small one.โ
โOK, send me your dadโs number.โ
โMy dad is not at home. He traveled.โ
โGive me his number all the same. I will send him these shots. He will be much delighted to see her beautiful daughter playing rapturously on her saxophone.โ
Pausing for a moment, she turned her bright beautiful eyes momentarily on me.
Demurely, her voice came through. โI donโt have a father. My father is late.โ
No emotion or any desire to solicit pity at all, her radiant smiling face was unfazed. I consoled her, โIโm so sorry that your dad is no more. God Almighty will surely take care of you.โ
Walking away from her, I reflectively felt the pain of my pretty orphan fellow Christian sister โ the saxophonist. She was about the same age as the last of my four children. How happy and proud of her talented daughter, the father would have felt if he were to be around to see her little girl of yesterday enlivening audiences with glorious songs.
I got back to the Information Unitโs office. Alas, the pictures I took with the Powershot were nowhere to be found. The camera was warning me of the memory card's absence all along, but I never pay attention. I was too carried away. I forgot to return the memory card back to its slot in the camera after the last time I used it with the card reader. All the pictures shown here are screen grabs from the video clip, I recorded with my Infinix Zero5 smartphone.
Afterword
Her mother was in the Church as well. I asked her to lead me to her mum. She wasnโt immediately within reach. Later, she came with her mum to the unit where I worked. I show her the pictures and video clip of her daughter doing a solo orchestra.
Tutua plays sax. Her mum plays the violin. The same goes for all her siblings except her youngest sister. I wrote this story in 2019. Watch Sister Tutua crooning with her saxophone here.
Thank you for reading. This review was originally published here by the author.
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