Dolls 

Sumitra was my first sponsored World Vision child. When I quit smoking in 1991, I decided to sponsor a child with the money that otherwise would have gone up in smoke. Sumirta was my first of five children. For whatever reason World Vision kept re-assigning me a new kid every five years or so. Maybe they kept leaving the program or something.

Anyhow, for my first one, I received this tiny school photo of Sumitra. A little dark skinned African 6 year old girl. They suggested small gifts only, tokens really, if you were going to send a gift at all. I pondered what I could send and thinking what does a little girl treasure? I no sooner asked myself the question when an answer popped in my mind. Dolls. I loved playing with dolls. I remember playing for hours with dolls with my cousin Lyla. Times were tight, then and now, so I set off first to the thrift store to see if there was anything suitable. I didn’t want anything shabby or a glitzy Caucasian either. Low and behold there was a perfect baby – a dark skinned, small life-baby size with moveable limbs. Albeit minus a few eye lashes on one side but the eye lids opened and closed, which more than made up for it. It was perfect. 

Excited to get home with my imagination whirling on how I would dress and package it, I came up with all kinds of ideas. Her current jumper and long sleeved shirt wouldn’t do. She was going to live at the equator.

For a crib I found a sturdy tomato box with snug lid that fit the doll’s length to a tee. I found some 3” thick foam and cut a perfect mattress. Next I cut up an old flannel pillowcase to make a sheet. Now she needed some nice bright clothing. Canadian clothes were too heavy and dark. I scrounged around in the linen closet and found an old table cloth. I mused over shorts, pants or a skirt. I’d do them all I decided. It wouldn’t take much after envisioning three simple patterns and there was more than enough material.

I didn’t have a sewing machine so called up my friend, Lana. Now Lana wasn’t one to loan things out but surprise surprise she could drop it off on her way to yoga. What color of thread did I need? 

In the little sewing kit Aunt Stella put together for me had everything I needed = elastic for the waists, seam binding for nice hems, and large needles. I could even finish the edges on the bed sheet neatly.

Lips clamped around my tongue in full concentration, I was absorbed for a whole afternoon coming up with more elaborate bits to add to the wardrobe. A matching hair band, a dollar store necklace, and a hat. Yes it all made a lovely offering. 

But how to pack them? Recycling had just begun on a large scale. Blue boxes lined the neighborhood streets. Living in a six-plex, our brand new blue box had a lovely selection of clean containers. 

I found a terrific little plastic container from baby wipes that smelled like baby. I washed it out again and layed everything out before packing. The mattress, the sheet, the doll itself, the little wardrobe, and a few accessories.

Little Sumitra was going to be really surprised I smiled to myself, wondering if she would even get it. The ‘token’ was a far cry from the pens or hair combs they suggested. But was worth a chance I thought. 

I made up the little bed complete with hospital corners and dressed the little girl to go on the plane ride. I packed the rest in the Baby Wipe container that fit snuggly beside the sleeping doll so didn’t need to cram crumpled paper on top to hold everything in place. I wanted it to be very transparent to any custom agents. 

The lid went on and miles of boxing tape later, the lady at the post office asked 

‘land or air?’

“Land please,” I said. “There’s no rush.”

Driving home from the post office, I wondered if it would make it. And had to smile again, thinking even if it didn’t I still enjoyed playing with dolls.

•••

Months turned into sixteen and I never heard anything. In the meantime I made a series of bad decisions leaving my lovely little six-plex on the beach for a basement suite across town. I took the bus to the beach one summer evening longing to retract some of my decisions. I went by the old place lamenting the days of lovely sunsets. Looking in my old mailbox, like you do in the coin return of a pay phone (back when we had pay phones), be darned if there wasn’t a letter to me from Africa! 

I went across the street to the bench to open a school progress report – a pamphlet full of checked tick boxes sent to all the sponsors. But what came fluttering out was the silver lining. It was a 4×6 photo of Sumirta holding the tomato box with her little baby doll and the container of clothes. Nothing more. Nothing less. I welled up with tears.

Not only did that recycled doll and used table cloth travel half way around the world, the love it carried touched not only a little girl, but probably half a dozen World Vision workers, and who knows how many customs officers before returning once again to the me, the sender, raising my own flagging spirits.

The love you send out truly does return ten-fold.