Pleading

After my night of malaria and after my time pounding Cassava with the women, it was time to start work.  The elders had been meeting all night to talk about me and what was to be done.  They had a lot of things to work out.  There was a possibility of me bringing in quite a bit of development, resources and most of all money.  

They needed to find out who was going to get the construction contracts (they were thinking big).  Which areas would get the development first, what projects would get done.  Many things to decide.  When they were ready, I was invited into a hut and sat in a circle with them.

Once in the circle, I found myself being presented in turn with each request.  It was a very formal meeting, and one which was spoken in respect for each other.   Ugandan’s, rarely if ever raise their voices.  In fact, except for celebrations, I don’t remember a single raised voice.

While this was going on, a man approached the door.  He was holding a baby.

The men in the hut shooed him away, but he kept coming back.  I could tell from the glances at me that he wanted to tell me something, but the elders did not want him to bother me.  Finally, after watching him for almost 30 minutes, I asked my translator what it was that he wanted.

He wanted me to take the baby.  The mother had died shortly after birth.  With no formula, or medical care available, the baby was slowly dying of malnutrition.  The father had been trying to feed it anything he could find, but there was nothing to supplement a mother’s milk.

Now the baby was nearly 10 months and still weighed about 10 lbs.  I could see in the father’s eyes, the pleading look.  He could not speak English, and I could not speak Aringa, but we didn’t need words.  I knew that I couldn’t help.  We had a job to do, and if I was going to be effective in that job, some things I had to let go…

Sitting here, now, I wish I had done things differently.  I wish I had helped, taken the baby home to Nicole.  Anything would have been better than remembering the father’s eyes, his pleading…