Hard to ask, harder to hear …

The family tells one version of the truth about how their desperately sick, orphaned nephew ended up begging on the streets. Vasco has another. We read between the lines and have our own idea of what happened and it’s not pretty. It’s maddening. As his mother, it makes me want to thrash a few people. Some of them are in the video below.

This is some footage I shot on my iPhone (before AT&T turned it off, bastardos) while Rob Feldman (the co-producer of the documentary film being made, “Vasco’s Heart,” interviewed the family at length on camera while Francisco (we love him so) shot beautiful footage, much prettier than this version. But this was easier to upload and … well … you get the story.

The fact that Vasco lived through all of this with such an incredibly sweet spirit intact is part of the miracle of his life.

Seated between Rob and Vasco’s uncle, Mavuto, in the video is James Phiri, one of the many angels God dropped into our lives on our journey to becoming a family, was our luck-of-the-draw (if you believe in such things – I don’t) driver hired along with our rental SUV. James is a beautiful man of faith and, among many talents and blessings, he speaks Yao, which turns out to be the tribal language that the older members of Vasco’s extended family are most comfortable conversing in, rather than the national language, Chichewa, or English. He was our translator, guide, driver, protector and really became a member of our family through the month he was with us. He was unflappable, deeply cool – like Dusty Baker cool. We had a car accident one day and he was more concerned about the woman who blindsided us and how she’d be able to pay for her repairs than he was for the rental vehicle for which he was responsible. He got pulled over in a speed trap on another occasion and just laughed. This man is an angel. We consider him a Big Brother to Vasco and we miss him terribly. So grateful for this man’s grace and elegance and generosity of spirit.