June Trip Update 7

So today was our final day of helping out at Makarios. We were pretty worn down from running around at the basketball game yesterday, but exerted as much energy as we could for the kids. It was pretty sad knowing that it would most likely be the last time that most of us would ever see them again. Still, everybody had a lot of fun; much giggling, smiling, and piggy-back-ride-giving ensued. There are so many children whose faces and names I will remember forever, them probably never knowing how much they taught me. One little boy, Luis Fernando, refuses to leave my mind at the moment. He is a tiny lad, round and joyful, who somehow manages make the word “adorable” seem like a massive understatement. He must be held at all times and loves most of all to ride atop the shoulders of his older/whiter brethren in the most literal sense possible. For whatever reason, he clung on to me and would not allow me to pass without giving him his mandatory shoulder ride/airplane-toss/super-fast-spin. He gave me the highly personal and creative nickname of “mi amigo” and shouted it if I was anywhere in the vicinity. Every morning he showed up in his fancy Khaki pants and Makarios shirt with a huge smile looking quite professional as broke record speeds sprinting towards the school from his house down the street. So clearly, it was going to be hard never seeing this kid again. I said “adios” when he left school for the day, and that was about that. As we left Makarios for the last time in our overcrowded van, I was hanging out the window and saw Luis Fernando standing outside his house. He was standing almost naked in nothing but dull yellow underwear, a stark contrast to the dressy look he wore at school. Apparently I caught his eye, and he yelled, “Adios, mi amigo!” as we puttered past. God chose this to be the last image I saw, and though I am not yet sure what significance it holds, It will keep me thinking about this trip and the people I met whose lives have touched me as I return to my own reality in the states.

Nate Herman