I hear the laughter of little boys outside my door. Putting
down my book, I go to the open door and find four boys between three and six.
They are all carrying sticks. Three are laughing at the one who has just nabbed
a peach out of one of the peach trees on my lot.
Culturally, I know that he should have asked before coming
into the yard and taking peaches. But, this is my first weekend in my new
village and admonishing small children is not the first impression I want to
make. Instead, I great the boys and ask them what’s up.
The continue to giggle and start moving towards the road.
When it is clear they are not going to speak Sesotho with me and they are
moving on, I head back inside.
Twenty minutes later, I pop out again, this time to retrieve
my solar lights. I had hidden them in the tall grass two feet from my open
window to charge them up. It is Sunday and I do not anticipate being able to
charge them again until Saturday as my new job will have me working a forty-hour
week at an office.
Instead of three Luci lights, I find only one half eaten
peach.
My heart stops. I immediately know what has happened and
even know who did it. But I do not want it to be true.
