Patrick has been cooling his heels at home for a few weeks now. It’s not a normal situation for him and he’s bored. I’ve tried to encourage him to enjoy his freedom: go hunt or play soccer, but it’s the rainy season and he’s pretty much trapped in his tiny apartment with his four siblings. It must be grueling.
It’s funny; we haven’t been conversing as much lately. It’s not unusual for one of us to miss a day. There’s just not a lot to be said—we’re both anticipating what’s next and there’s only so far that weeks of anticipation can carry you in conversation. He remains upbeat though. And why wouldn’t he?
If all goes well, he’ll find employment teaching around the beginning of December. I hope there are no hangups, and I hope they pay him a living wage. But one way or another my active part in this story is reaching its end. Our agreement was that we’d help him through school and into a job, but he’s made it abundantly clear he wants to stand on his own two feet. It’s an inborn characteristic—his father possessed it and it led him to drown in the Mediterranean. Patrick would never stop fighting for his family, but he needed a guardrail for just a brief and critical time, to shunt him to a positive solution rather than a panoply of negative ones. He seems to be on that course now.
I don’t have any photos to share this week. There’s only so many photos of his small bare room one can look at. I’m thinking it might be time to shut down payments as well. He’s covered until December; I think we’ve done our thing. For that I thank everyone. And if you ever find yourself in Africa and would like to visit a devoted friend, Patrick is yours.
I will continue to post updates, but likely at less regular intervals. I’ll just drop a line here as interesting photos and information appear. So, until next time, take care and thank you.
Fletch