Happiness and soap

I’ve spent eight days in Africa and I can’t find the guy who started the Roadmap.

I saw Revocat on the first day when I entered the village in 2017.

He was in terrible tatters, carrying firewood to his mother. His pants were tied with a string. The postal ones.

I can’t forget that picture.

Revocat did not know how to speak a word of English at that time. I will learn Kinyarwanda in about 30 years, if even that.

My emotions broke me.

Neither the eruption of a volcano, nor earthquakes, wars, pandemics, nor refugees… nothing shook me like when, after so long, I saw Revocat again.

He changed, became serious, grew and became somehow gentler. He tells me about everything. The school he goes to doesn’t let him out, so we only managed to see each other briefly.

Tomorrow I signed and submitted the papers to be released… at least for one day. And promised to pay for the covid-test when I return it.

I would sign and agree to everything… but everything, just for that one day.

Today he already speaks English well. He tells me that he has changed his mind… that he no longer wants to be an IT expert, but a manager.

I laugh… and say to him: “What’s the matter with you… so who will show me and teach me?” Anyway, I have no idea about that devilish technique, and here in Africa I’m getting more and more confused. And… do you even know what a manager does?”

He says I know. I ask what?

And he answered: “He buys goats, cows, beans, rice… and feeds the children.”

I look at him and say: “Yes. It works.”

Then he whispers to me: “You know, they stole my soap here at school.”

At that moment, I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.

He noticed that I was neither here nor there, so he asked me: “Are you angry?”
I hug him and say: “Listen, my manager… we’re going to buy a truckload of soap! We will buy all the soaps in the world. All the children will be clean and full, don’t worry about anything.”