T.

T.
T. is 3 or 4 years old. He lives not far from where I live with his extended family. He comes to me and shakes hands. He wants to play with the simplest homemade toy a child can have: a wheel made of bamboo. He rolls the wheel to me and I have to roll it back to him. This goes on forever.
T’s ‘family’ is not your average Australian nuclear family, with one mum, one dad and no brother and sister. Three generations of people take care of him. He has a lot of uncles and aunts and other individuals who live on the same premises, working in the owners’ of main house and land around it. They constitute a sort of ‘e extended’ extended family...
T’s dad? Out of the picture he was more or less like a sperm donor. T’s mum: She is half way through her secondary education... which implies that she must have been around thirteen or fourteen when she gave birth to T.
Please, don’t think ‘ Oh, poor T., poor child... so unfair! No, T. is very well looked after. He has a lot of mums and dads, receives a huge amount of love. He is very well dressed, is very well dressed and looks very bright. He speaks a lot of Kinyarwanda to me, as if I was one of his uncles. I am flattered. He has a very soft, gentle and expressive voice and is very skilful with his wheel!
The Wheel of life is looking after him very well...