"I am Smile!"

I have been feeling blue for a long while; acting anti-social, becoming easily annoyed with learners, and even counting down the days until I go back to America. I decided yesterday that this sulkiness needed to stop and that part of my problem has been my lack of involvement in the community and culture.
As a runner, I’m grateful for the experience of being able to see more than the average person. My favorite run has become a long, straight, dusty road; as written about in “Road to Sesfontein.” The village I run past is called “Katutura.”
Yesterday I took the side road lined with mounds of garbage. It was dark and the trash was burning high in two places. As I ran, I passed two groups of boys ranging from about ages 6 to 9. One boy in each group had a piece of lit cardboard and both groups asked “where are you going?” I said I didn’t know. In fact, I had to turn around soon after I met them because my path was blocked by a thick wall of smoke. (I found out later it ends in a canyon filled with trash. The town dump. I asked a man what would happen when it filled up. “Don’t say that….Opuwo.” The end, he said.)
I turned at the end and on the way back came upon all the boys together, about 10 of them, huddled around a small pile of burning cardboard like a camp fire. I then noticed they were wearing no more than tattered shorts and T-shirts, all ripped and threadbare and dirty. “Are you cold?” I asked. I was warm from running but I recognized that it must have been about in the 40’s or 50’s. “Yes,” they all nodded. (I’m impressed at their level of English comprehension already.) I asked where they go to school. They asked me where I was coming from. I told them my name and asked for theirs. They gave me their nicknames. I only remember the ones I could pronounce like Simon, Beckham (after the famous footballer), and the little one sitting on the ground who said his name was Smile.
The headlights of a car turned onto the road and they began excitedly, “that car is coming for us! It has food for us in the back!” Curious, I watched as the white hatchback stopped and the boys tussled with each other to get in the back of the car first. A man got out, someone I know, a man who works with my friend at the grocery store. He had warm clothes and a hat on, but rubbed his arms just the same. We exchanged hellos and I asked about the boys. They were presently helping to unload garbage from the back. The garbage was from the grocery store, and behind it was food that hadn’t sold and would otherwise spoil (and hopefully wasn’t already spoiled, it was too dark to tell). He told me about how he had seen a decrease in programs helping children like them in Opuwo in the past few years. I asked if they were orphans. “Some of them. Some of them have a parent, or an Aunt.” He told me about a shining example of a man he knows who adopted a small boy and how the boy was living well in the town now.
After a bit more conversation, I turned and ran home. I called goodbye to the boys, twice, but they didn’t hear me. They were too busy eating.