Rest in Peace

Yesterday, two year old Samuel was laid to rest. We from Invisible Children
did not attend the ceremony. Instead we went in shifts to the orphange and tended to the children so the ladies who work there, who have seen to Samuel's needs his entire life, could go to the funeral and say their good-byes. I do not know much about Samuel for sure. What I've heard is that his mother is alive and in the village. She is a widow, having lost her husband in the war. Samuel was placed here because she could not support him alone, but hoped, someday, to reunite with him. I also heard that he was a twin, but that his twin sister had died in childbirth. I believe his mother is now alone. I hope that someday her fervent prayer of reuniting with him is answered.

At the orphanage the kids played. My motorcycle helmet was a big hit. No, I don't have a motorcycle. I wear it as a passenger here because I know my wife would want me to. It seems I am the only passenger so equipped making me the target of more than a little bit of ridicule. One of my Ugandan co-teachers asked me why I wear the helmet. I told him "I promised my wife."
He responded, "In Uganda, the men decide what they will do."
I answered, "In my country, a man is a good as his word. Who we make the promise to is unimportant. Our word is our bond."
He left it at that. I'm not sure if it is because he has met others from my country who have already put the lie to my statement or, more likely, that he recognized a fellow goat and didn't desire to bang heads.

But, back to the kids: The young boys surrounded me and grabbed my helmet screaming, "Boda-boda, boda-boda!" They placed it in their heads. It shook about so big it spun like a frisbee. Undeterred, the wearer would grab his imaginary clutch and throtle, give the requisite 'brrrrmmm, brrrrrrm' and be off taking his imaginary fare for a ride while five or six of his friends ran screaming after. I flagged down one of the erstwhile drivers with the customary, "BODA." He stopped in front of me, and I straddled the 'bike' behind him, tapped him on the helmet, and we were off, running around the grounds until I tapped him again--exhausted--got off, 'paid' him, and left.

Meanwhile, Nathan played soccer with the older boys, Lindsay sang songs she taught them last year, Andy tossed a frisbee, Jennifer and Michelle read picture books to the littlest who were looking to nap.

The women of the orpahange returned and we started, one by one, to leave. Andy who had not been there the day of the incident asked me to show him where it happened. I took him there, and saw the large stone placed over the opening. Andy and I pulled it off and looked. Seeing the depth, Andy said, "Thank God for John's long arms."
We rolled the stone back where it was, and walked out to catch real bodas home.