Chapter 2
Orphan on the Run
1971-1974 in Senegal
The mind of a six- year old has no ability to reflect and analyze his experiences. A six-year-old is most concerned with playing, imagining stories in his mind, listening to the sounds around him, and learning new things from adults and a from other children. A six-year old has no responsibilities and depends on adults for his care and basic needs. Food, shelter, and clothing are provided him as needed. And of course, so is love…except if you are a fugitive and have been thrown onto the street. Then you become a primitive prowler of the earth struggling for survival because in spite of your limitations and traumas, the soul still seeks to live and is not easily subdued or killed.
So, William’s thoughts instead of being carefree and jovial were silenced by his instinctual bodily functions. Those natural urges steered him away from men and women who appeared scary in his eyes as a young child. The frightening things in life could mean anything from a facial expression to the color of one’s hair to the size and stature of the person or persons. In fact, the surrounding world was chock full of fearful people and places, which no child should ever have to live. The fears prompted a slew of monstrous questions. Were the strangers going to pick him up and chop him into little pieces and throw his tiny body remnants to the animals that roamed the streets? Was he going to be roasted in the fires meant to bake or cook people meals? Was he going to be beat for crimes that he never committed? And how was he going to settle the growls of his hungry stomach as his parched mouth stuck together? Was he just going to die?
He remembered noticing the many fields and farms located on the edge of the town and began to hope that perhaps he could find help if he made it out of the town alive. Perhaps there would be someone who would listen to him and offer him food and shelter until he was able to devise another plan. He knew he could never return home to his mother. Once thrown to the streets, there was never the option to beg her to allow him back. She had no capacity to care for herself. For the most part it had been William’s job to beg in the streets for money, which she had instructed him to do, so he could care for her. Too, she would never forgive him for the crime of the dead baby, the one reality she held on to alleviating her of any responsibility. It was too painful to even think what the actual cause of the baby’s death had been. He would have to be very careful that strangers didn’t know his mother because for sure she would tell them the big lie, that he had murdered his baby brother. He had to be a good little boy doing as they asked. With these thoughts, he took off, the plan to find a farm. With the sunlight beaming on his sweating back covered by a thin white tee-shirt, William scuttled through the grasses and fields praying that he would find a safe resting place. Thankfully, it wasn’t long until he eventually found possible shelter. He observed a make-shift stable with a couple of beautiful brown horses housed within. Around the structure various goats and chickens roamed. Immediately, he envisioned his savior would appear. But that was not to be, not to happen. What William had no way of knowing was that this part of his journey was going to bury him further into the depths of hell before any sense of safety was to be delivered his way.
Luckily, before his next nightmare began he found mangoes growing in a patch. He gulped pieces down as he quickly broke open and peeled back the outer skin the best he could. This nourishment provided him a welcome reprieve from the hunger pangs, but made him cry as he realized he was nowhere and headed further into nowhere. His sobbing was eventually heard by a group of workers seemingly finishing their tasks for the day. William sat in a pile of cuttings made from greens perhaps from someone who had weeded hours ago. He stopped the sobbing, straining to maintain his stillness and quiet, fearful that they would be the men sent to chop him up. But his stillness and quiet was to no avail. He had been discovered.