Today was a sad day for my coworkers. As we taught and played with and scolded our club of 25 kids at Impacto Juvenil, a graduate of the program passed by in a casket with a large funeral procession.
Yesterday my coworkers said they went to the calling hours in boy's the home. Today I could hardly understand what they were saying through their tears.
They said he was a sweet boy, but he had his vices. They said they were always scolding him and begging him to change his ways.
Yesterday he was driving a moto-taxi (a tiny carriage carried by a motorcycle) when he was assaulted. According to word on the street, he asked his attackers to let the passengers out of the moto-taxi and he would work things them. But they shot his the top of his head off.
The rumor is that they were trying to rob his telephone, but he never carried a telephone, so everyone knows that is not true.
It was sad to be standing in the same place where he once played and learned and grew, watching his 20 year old body go by in a casket in the back of a pickup truck with a long line of moto-taxis following behind. It made me worry for our kids.
My coworkers were extremely worried about his mother, who appeared to be alone. They wanted to comfort her and be at her side. Normally they would have accompanied her, but today they had the next generation of kids to watch over as the funeral procession passed by.
The experience made me realize that I will never really be a part of them (my coworkers). I will never understand the pain of watching a child they helped to raise pass by in a casket. I will never understand the danger they face every day when they leave their homes. I will never understand how it feels to send my child to school and pray they make it home safely. I can't comprehend those things because I've never lived them. As I tried my best to console them, I will always be a step away from truly understanding how they feel.
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