Aerie InternationaL - Missoula County Public Schools

emma lucy bay pimentel
jacksonville, florida, usa
Norman Maclean Nonfiction A w a r d W i n n e r
dreSSed In nAvy blue
Thirteen long years of frittered experience and unrequited kindnesses
had unraveled themselves behind me when I met Jane-Ann and was
introduced to her cause. We had recently moved for the fifth time in my
life, to the third continent I’d ever been on. Having sneaked past
calculating Sudanese officials in
Jane-Ann was a sweet little
lady in her forties, who had
devoted her life and her own
personal farm to what she
called “hippotherapy.” Two
days a week, children from
underfunded hospitals enjoyed
the open air, horse riding,
and the love the volunteers
showered upon them.
Cairo who had denied us visas, we
somehow managed to gain access
(after, that is, quite a bit of money
had changed hands) to a smelly
airplane destined for Khartoum’s
diminutive, three-gate airport. It
was summer, hot and dry in the
Sahara desert, and we had covered
most of our bodies in deference to
Sudanese culture. It was
sweltering. Yet in the early hours
of dawn that first morning before
the sun had hit the peak of its
arch, when the whole world seemed
so bright that even shadows could find no place to skulk, we got up and
walked down dusty dirt roads and under parched palm trees to Jane-
Ann’s. Jane-Ann was a sweet little lady in her forties, who had devoted
her life and her own personal farm to what she called “hippotherapy.”
Two days a week, children from underfunded hospitals enjoyed the open
air, horse riding, and the love the volunteers showered upon them.
I remember most the tortured appearance of the children. Most were
diseased, and many were missing body parts. They lacked even the will
to brush away the flies that whined around their ivory eyes and rested
on their bristly hair. These children were silent, terribly silent, empty
shells next to my rambunctious two-year-old sister. They sat, a few
crying softly, but none expected comfort. On my first visit, the disgust
and horror of the sight nearly overcame me. I looked around and saw
innocent children in pain, helpless children hurting, undersized infants
who did not know affection. I had absolutely no idea what to do; such a
sight was so far beyond my ken that I found my heart beating out a
solemn rebellion against its very existence. Jane-Ann saw me at a loss
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