A boy perhaps six years old limped out of a nearby hut and took station near one corner watching us with burnished black eyes. An ancient man Cladd and dirt marred clothes emerged from one mud hut His beard was dyed red something that all village elders do to show their status as community leaders When he saw the eyeless boy his composure cracked and a look of pure love and relief crossed his face. The two shared words and the elder held the boy in a fierce protective embrace He looked at me the boys head tucked under his jaw and pressed hard against his neck And I could see that the old man's eyes had grown wet  and then said an eclipse and professional tone the village