Part II of the Final Day - 2 June 2007

Stop two – 9:55 am
There have been many bumps, potholes, even craters along the way. There have been doubts and plain misbelieve. Yet, my friends, the tower is up! Well, almost. The 3ft by 3ft structure and the columns to the inner tower that protrude out an extra 5 feet are erected. We’re on our last stretch, the air is light and the built up stress from the project seems to have lifted on our final trip to Margaret’s.

Of course, we make our routine stop at Olary to pick up some of the volunteers. But today is different. Today we aren’t just picking up Elizabeth and Gori and whomever else, instead, there is a heartfelt purpose. I don’t remember the orphan’s name, but I remember his story and I remember what happened on this particular day. And the story needs to be told:

Jason and the boy:

No one knows the exact age of when this boy came to be an orphan, but it was somewhere around the age of 3 or 4. He’s about 9 or 10 now. The people of the village, who also have next to nothing, have taken it upon themselves to help him out. Even Margaret, who is not from this village, gives the boy some change or food on her visits.

On this particular day, Jason got off the bus with a new t-shirt for the boy. As Jason approached, the boy retreated behind one of the nearby woman. Jason tried to give him the new shirt, but the boy didn’t know how to react to this strange mzungo giving something specifically to him. So the woman took the shirt and said she would give it to the boy. Jason returned to the bus and waited. Once Jason was clearly away from the scene, the boy placed his hands at the bottom corners of his own shirt to examine it. The worn in, mud stained shirt may have been white – once upon a time. This was probably the only shirt the boy owned-it certainly looked about 100 years old and clearly had never been washed. The woman stepped forward and helped him take off the rag and replaced it with his new, bleach white shirt. Ok, it was a little big, but the boy didn’t even notice. Any anticipation he might have felt instantly melted away and was replaced with the most magnificent smile I’ve ever seen. The look of pride on his face would bring a knot to anyone’s throat that was witnessing, and it did. Jason’s face lit up as well and he carefully got back off the bus and approached the boy again. This time, he did not run away, instead he shyly walked up to Jason and put out his hand. Jason shook it firmly and smiled. Only a smile and a nod came from the boy, but that was all that was needed. His gratitude was written from ear to ear.

As this point I lifted my eyes off the two for the first time to see that everyone in the immediate area had stopped what they were doing and were smiling just as wide at the boy. In turn, everyone approached the boy to congratulate him with a high-five, a pat on the back, and genuine praise. The boy then took off around the square, tugging at his new shirt so that everyone could see. His feet never touch the ground as he glided through the village. I can not say enough to describe the beauty of this scene, and I doubt a single person reading this blog has, no matter how excited you have ever been over a gift, has ever felt the way that boy did at the moment – over a t-shirt. This boy re-defined gratitude, and I can only pray that one day I can feel that happy about something.