The Burning Water

7 - Good Luck Orphanage

Jasper stood with the orphanage director, looking down at the little boy. He was terrified, cowering in a corner of the tiny room where he had been locked up. It was no more than a large closet, stacked with empty boxes and used clothing. The walls were painted an institutional green; there were no windows and only a single light bulb hanging from the ceiling.

Jasper couldn't blame the boy for his fear. From what Wing had told him, the boy had had a hell of a couple of days.

"Please take him away," the young woman who had let him in said. Her name was Sying, and she was a squat, flat-faced girl. "Many of our children are already sick. We cannot have someone here with a strange African disease." She spoke with a heavy country accent, making it hard for Jasper to understand some of what she said.

Jasper squatted down to the boy's level. His skin was as dark as piano keys, which contrasted sharply with his white teeth and the whites of his eyes, which were round as saucers. He wore at least three layers of clothing that Jasper could see, from a gray T-shirt to a red-and-white striped polo shirt and a heavy flannel shirt in a black and gray tartan. It was at least three sizes too big for the tiny boy, who looked the way Jasper had when his mother had dressed him to play in the snow, back home.

"Hi," he said to the boy, and smiled.

The boy shivered and huddled farther back against the wall.

"It's okay," Jasper said in a soothing voice. "I'm not going to hurt you."

At six-foot-three, Jasper was taller than most of the people in Dandong, and he usually was able to use his height, his foreignness, and his command of the language to get what he wanted. Not with this little boy, though.

The boy curled up in a fetal position and flinched whenever Jasper leaned close to him. What was his brother's name, Jasper thought. Maybe the boy would recognize that.

Lobo? Loco? He couldn't remember. He pulled out his phone and called Wing to ask, but the doctor wasn't answering his phone. Jasper began to say as many similar words as he could. Finally the boy said, "Lebona?"

"Yes!" Jasper said. That was the name. "Yes, Lebona." He motioned toward the door. "Come with me, we go Lebona."

With one last look at the young Chinese woman who had locked him in the room, the little boy uncurled, and Jasper picked him up.

Wing had warned him about possible infection, but the boy looked perfectly healthy, and Jasper was sure he would be frightened by face masks. He was so small, so innocent and fragile. He couldn't be harmful.

Jasper carried him down the stairs at the Good Luck Orphanage. It didn't look like any of these children were lucky. The Chinese government rules against second children were being relaxed, so instead of healthy little girls ready for adoption, the home was filled with disabled boys and girls who could not be cared for by their parents.

The little boy in his arms didn't have a proper coat, so Jasper held him close to his chest, holding his own coat as closely as he could. It was a chilly gray day though fortunately not rainy or snowing, and he stood by the side of the road trying to hail a taxi. It took nearly ten minutes before one stopped for him.

"Dandong Fourth Hospital," he said to the driver, who looked at him in surprise.

"You speak Chinese," he said.

"Yes," Jasper said. "Big gweilo speaks Chinese. Please go."

For the first time since Wing's call, Jasper had a chance to sit back and wonder what was going on. As the boy cuddled against him for warmth, he thought back to what Wing had said. An African boy who had escaped from North Korea with his little brother, getting sick in the cold.

How did a pair of African boys get to North Korea? This one couldn't be more than five or six years old. Who would have brought them to the Hermit Kingdom? And why? What had forced them to run away in such cold weather?

When the boy finally felt comfortable, Jasper pointed to himself. "Jasper," he said. Then he pointed to the boy.

"Likotsi," the boy said, though he had to repeat it several times before Jasper understood it.

It was late afternoon when he carried the little boy into the emergency room. He spotted Wing across the room, arguing with several people – two women and a couple of small children.

Likotsi had become frightened again, huddled against Jasper's shoulder. Jasper assumed that he didn't have much experience with hospitals. He was wiggling so much that Jasper couldn't take the time to go speak with Wing. Instead, he caught Wing's eye and nodded toward the lobby.

Wing nodded back, and Jasper carried Likotsi into the main part of the hospital and found a quiet corner where they could sit together. He pulled out his phone and connected to the internet. When he found some photos of Lesotho on line and showed them to the boy, Likotsi nodded eagerly. He spoke rapidly in his native language, but Jasper couldn't understand a word.

Then he remembered that he had an app on his phone that would translate from English to Chinese, and vice versa, so that if he didn't know a word or how to say something, he could get help. Did the app include African languages? And what language did the boy speak, anyway?

Wing had said that the boy was from Lesotho in southern Africa. A quick check online told him that the natives spoke Sotho, part of the Bantu language group. Bantu, however, was not supported by his translation app.

He went back online. Maybe he could find a language that was similar enough? He discovered that the most common Bantu language was Swahili, and that his app had limited support for that language – not a real dictionary but rather a series of phrases that could be spoken or understood and translated into English.

He picked, "Hello. How are you?" and he held the phone up to the boy. "Hodi, jinsi wewe," the phone said, and the boy's eyes lit up.

He began speaking rapidly, but Jasper held up his hand, palm up. He chose "speak slowly," and the mechanized voice said, "kusema, polepole."

The boy understood, and they carried on a very basic conversation. Jasper learned that Likotsi was six years old. Both his parents were "late," as was his brother, whose name Jasper thought was Liboko. He had an older sister in Lesotho who was married. He wanted to know where his brother Lebona was.

Jasper told him that his brother was there, but sick, and Likotsi nodded somberly. He said something into the phone, and Jasper waited for a translation. It came up as "Will he die?"

Jasper felt tears welling up in his eyes. How could he tell this boy that his brother was very sick, especially since he had already lost his parents and older brother? He settled for honestly. "I don't know."