SIERRA'S LEONE

SISTER

Best friends forever, if some people distribute the sentence like freebies for Sierra and Cecile, it was an oath they would keep for life.

Cecile was the daughter of a wealthy Dijonaise wine producer, and Sierra, the daughter of Mr. Lennox l'homme à tout faire[ the man who does everything, the handyman]. Everyone knew Sierra's father because of the two legal jobs and all the others he did au noir [An undeclared work]. No one would have bet on their friendship.

 Sierra's mother passed away a year after giving birth to her leaving her husband to raise their children. A heart attack, even now Sierra could not digest that a woman under forty could die from this. Her father was an immigrant from Congo, and her mother was a French-born Sierra Leonean.

Mr. Lennox didn't think twice when the city hall worker asked if he wanted to Frenchify his name. The man changed his name from Libaya Mouaba to Lennox, which was anything, but French.

The Lennox couple moved to Dijon and had Jacob followed by Sierra. They were happy until tragedy struck. Mr. Lennox never sought to find love again. Instead, he devoted his passion and effort to his children.

Strict, Sierra's father surveilled they did their homework, brushed their teeth before sleeping, and even learned to do cornrows so no one could say his daughter had picky hair. He woke them at 6 am every Sunday to ensure they were not late for the mess.

Sierra hated going to church, not that she didn't believe in God, but she doubted the efficiency of what her father called the channel to God.

For her, God needed to get his channel tuned, and she would have asked him to get Wi-Fi if it existed in her childhood.

Why did Sierra need to show up at church when God heard her prayers just as well from home?

On the other hand, Jacob, Sierra's brother, appreciated the mess. It was his favorite moment of the week.

From an early age, Jacob loved God and all living things. At age nine, he already knew what he wanted to be.

"I want to be a pastor."

Mr. Lennox laughed, but Jacob demonstrated great determination. Boy scout, choir boy, charity work, Jacob took his vocation earnestly. And there on the church bench where they sat, it was Jacob's voice all heard singing with all the joy in his heart.

Jacob took life better than his sister. The boy never complained, and his cheerful personality had him praised by many. Whereas Sierra seemed invisible, only seen as Jacob's younger sister, she wondered if people even knew her name.

Sierra sighed as her eyes roamed around the church hall. Black, white, Asian, rich, or poor, everyone gathered there as though it was Noah's ark. Most children from their school came with their families.

And speaking of wealth, even the Gauthiers came. Significant contributors to the parish, there wasn't a Sunday where the pastor didn't evoke their name.

Cecile stared at Sierra, who glared back. It was odd; the rich girl always stared at her. Did she fancy her?

Everything separated the two, wealth, culture, education; the girls had nothing in common.

Cecile's family grew grapes and possessed an eminent domain; she was one of the cool kids.

Sierra was from a single-parent home and wore church hand-me-downs, whereas Cecile wore the latest trends.

However, that Sunday, Cecile approached Sierra, "I like your dress; it's suits you much better than it suited me."

Sierra looked at the orange dress she had on. For once, her father had found something beautiful amongst the church donations.

Why did the dress have to be Cecile's?

It was embarrassing enough to wear clothes that belonged to others.

Sierra turned to run when Cecile grasped her hand," I didn't mean to embarrass you. I really think it looks nice on you. I still have the yellow one; if we wear them on the same day, we will look like sisters."

Sierra turned to face Cecile, blonde hair light brown almond-shaped eyes. Cecile was a standardized beauty everyone acknowledged, whereas Sierra was one of the ten people of color in their school. In the early 90′s Dijon, black people didn't run the streets. No one considered the children as oddities, but the community, if one could call it, made itself discreet.

By tacit solidarity, the kids hung out together; Sierra didn't have a friend, she just tagged along with Jacob, but here for the first time, a child other than one of the tantines [aunts] children was talking to her.

"I'm Cecile; I've seen you around, at school, I mean. You're always with your brother."

Of course, with a school of four hundred pupils, the ten POC stuck out like sore thumbs and were hard to ignore.

"I'm sierraㅡ."

"Cecile, hurry up."

The conversation was cut short; Sierra didn't know whether she was happy or not with their encounter. Perhaps it was a one-off, Sierra thought, who quickly forgot only one thing lingered, "if we wear these dresses on the same day, we could be sisters.

Sierra had no mother, no friend other than Jacob; it would be nice to have a sister, thought the 7-year old before shrugging off the idea.

Why would Cecile Gaulthier, one of the wealthy kids, talk or want to hang out with a poor girl like her?

Would Cecile speak to her again?

The following Monday, Sierra got her answer as Cecile waved at her enthusiastically when she entered the school playground.

It was the beginning of a friendship, one where Sierra exchanged her plantain banana and fried chicken lunch box against a tuna salad and bread. Sierra taught Cecile Lingala, and Cecile, whose family had German and Swedish roots, introduced her to swear words.

The girls were inseparable. The matching twin cornrow hairstyles and beads done by Mr. Lennox attested it.

Some people found it amusing, and others were annoyed.

It wasn't rare to have someone telling Mrs. Gaulthier not to let Cecile hang out with les noirs [the blacks] too much. Cecile's parents didn't think much of it. They were too busy trying to make money; their daughter's frequentations didn't matter as long as she stayed out of trouble.