If our general experience in Kololo was to have a face, it would be this one. The 31/2-year old Tashagare. He projects style and comfort, usually by wandering Kololo's maze of pathways with his hood up, and no pants. He is well accustomed to the rigors of village life; he doesn’t waste energy to flinch as flies incessantly pester the corner of his eyes. And in a world that towers over him, Tashagare functions without fear, when not singing to him-self and sometimes while is, Tashagare wields a menacing twig and impressively hurls dirt clots to assist in his family in herding livestock.
Coincidently, his name actually is very similar to the local word for a buildings supportive truss. He is also is one of the few Kololo toddlers that approaches Daniel and I, and doesn’t run off when we approach him for a high-2 (our version of the high-5 for the Kololo kiddies, imagine two peace signs connected). More than anything, the little guy is awesome, just look at him.