This morning her alarm went off at 5:50am. She wanted to go back to sleep, but remembered that she has been given the privilege of serving 27 abandoned children. He wakes up for school, washes up and gets dressed. They are each other’s first hug every morning. Together, they begin the morning chores. Though others try, he doesn’t let anyone else help her sweep or mop – he wants to be the one to lend a hand.
It’s her last day in Lesotho. As the other 26 children are singing, dancing, and giggling on the way to school, he has strayed behind. It’s hitting him that this is his last morning being walked to school by her. Herding the kids, she notices that one is missing. She turns around and sees him… dragging his dusty feet, hanging his somber head, his face is covered by his royal blue jacket. She waits for him, but he slows down even more, now his face is parallel to the ground. She puts her arm around him and asks what’s wrong. He doesn’t respond. She asks again, and still no response. Cutting him off, she grasps his shoulders, bends down to eye level, and asks for a third time, “What is wrong?” He throws his arms around her neck and utters, “It’s your last day.” Tears stream down his face. Her heart is ripped out of her chest. She holds his limp body in her arms, as she allows tears to flow from her eyes. She didn’t think she would grow this attached to a 12 year old boy after just 4 weeks. He doesn’t want her to let go of him. Trying to dry their cheeks, they wipe the tears and continue walking to school hand-in-hand. They walk across the bridge together, and she sends him off to school.
Neither of them were ready for the bricks of uncontrollable emotions that fell on them this morning.
In just 4 weeks they have grown so close. She has helped him label an illustration of a cows’ stomach for school and he has translated to the younger children for her. He has helped her conquer her fear of birds by going in the chicken coop and holding a chicken. She has walked with him through the family garden and shared Jesus with him. He has brought chips and sweets to her everyday after school for a week. They shared supper together and she washed his feet as an act of love. The two of them have shared many emotions, but tears were not something that either of them were expecting to share.
‘she’ is HB and ‘he’ is Bereng.
I hear, “HB HB HB HB HB HB” but the only one I [really] hear is, “HB”. That ‘HB’ is Bereng’s voice. The gentle, curious voice of a 12-year-old boy who has so much hurt in his life but is choosing to be strong for his 26 other ‘siblings’. He has lived at Lesotho Save the Children since the age of 4 and chooses to be obedient and respectful, despite the reputation of an abandoned child. He’s the one that stole my heart… that’s why Lesotho will always have a piece of my heart.
