As I was entering the Milk and Honey café today there was a youngster standing at the door and I asked him if he would like something to eat. After ordering my usual mashed potatoes I got up to wash my hands at the sink in the corner, something everyone does one way or the other especially those who eat with their right hand (sink, hot water bucket or at the table itself when presented with a basin and a dribble of water from a cup). With a nod in the sink’s direction my guest followed suit. The waitress helped him to beef stew with green beans, green chop and rice and an orange soda.
I asked his name which he wrote in my note book: Kellvin Lega. He lives not too far away from town centre where we were. He does not have tv at home but he has a radio. He does not go to school and he cannot read.
He ate slowly and to my surprise could not quite complete his meal. He left some of the beans to the side as many a twelve year old might.
Before leaving he tried to re-thread his broken flip flops which he was wearing with socks. I said I was going home and I asked if he was too. No. Where then? Back to the street. We parted with a smile and a wave from me and a slight nod from Kellvin.