Two weeks into the trip, mid soccer game, a kid ran into the field and started trying to shoot us with rocks from his slingshot. He was short and skinny, yet filled with spirit and zest. Enter Milton. Biggest joy in Patacancha. Every time we would see him he was playful in a different way. Milton never lacked the joy to play with us. At first impressions he seemed like a normal extroverted 6 year old. However, we soon learned more. Milton was actually 12, the same age as Orlando the homestay brother of Norbu and Albert. 

    Milton soon became a common face, everyday after service, he was the first kid to come and play with us. Soon his friends started to play with us too. Each of them almost as wild as Milton. Soon enough even walking past the field would prompt Milton to shout out to play with us. Asking us to put him and the gaggle of boys on our shoulders and play a good old fashion game of chicken fight, or even a new game called “Get Everyone” where two people threw a soccer ball back and forth trying to hit the people in the middle till no one was left. Although Milton and his friends weren’t part of any homestay, Milton was the most memorable connection I made during my trip. As the days passed I learned more about him. 

On the surface, he was an energetic little kid, edging the line between trouble and fun. Under the surface, he was the most responsible kid I met. His brother had left his family when he was 7. His parents were either gone or invisible. He often did work for his family, driving their motorcycle to the neighboring towns to gather supplies and sell things. He was also one of the nicest kids we met. One night as we went to church, we walked in and his excitement to see us was unmatched. He was the last person I thought I’d see in church, but he was there, and he was happy. 

As soon as he finished his 3rd serving of soup and corn, he ran outside to play. He was followed by a hoard of kids, also ready to play. He stopped in his tracts though and turned around, yelling over the singing to ask us if we were going to go play with him. He transformed back into this normal self seconds later, and in less than five minutes multiple parents had gone outside trying to control his energy so the people inside could hear. With everything we had learned about Milton, and who he was, I was able to see yet another side of him on the last day. 

    His normal self transformed into a sad young kid who didn’t want to see his friends go. He jumped up into our arms embracing us in hugs saying chow and thank you. It’s hard to think that I might never know who Milton will become. In 20 years he could have a family and his energetic childish self could now be a father raising a child of his own. For people like Milton and the 13 of us on this trip, our future is unknown. From the very first day in Patacancha, not one of us is the same in a multitude of different ways. 

I’ve come to realize the joy of a simplistic life, and the happiness that can from the most mundane situations. Now leaving Patacancha I hope to remember Milton and all his friends, as well as their unwavering ability to always play and be joyful as we arrive back in Seattle.