Brayma

Brayma. What will become of you? You are so handsome, so much like your father. He is seeking, searching, he is beginning to follow. You are young, sweet, spoiled. You know the Arabic words of the call to prayer by heart. You know what it means to be a Muslim.

Will you see the desire for God in your father? Will you learn truth from him? What will you choose to believe?

Brayma? Are you well? Have you been injured while you work? Do you have malaria? If you get sick, who will take you to the doctor? You are too old to go for free. I hope your father is willing to spend his money on you. Brayma, make sure that you watch out for your little brothers and sisters. Don't ever hit girls, but protect them. And Brayma, remember that Yesu loves you. He always will. You can always go to Him. He has the answers. He knows how it feels to hurt. He's worth trusting, even more than your dad. And I know that you have a faithful man for your father. Don't forget to say thank you to him. Listen to what he says to you.

I don't know if you know it, but I love you. I'm not sure I knew I love you before, in time to tell you. But I do. I'm over here in America, loving you. But someone loves you more: Yesu.

Brayma, Irikoy ma konda cimi ni se. Cimi, da cimibeeri, da bani, da bina kani.
Irikoy ma konda baafuna da fonda hanno ni se. Nda Brayma, ni ma maa Yesu waati kang a ci haykulu ni se. Ni maa. Zama Yesu go ga ni ba gumo, oho, baa soho.