It’s a strange thing to be cruising and pondering in what (to me) feels like the middle of nowhere and then be asked, “Do you want to go see Manute Bol?”
The photo above is his burial mound. He reinivested millions of his NBA dollars in his home country. There are a smattering of school buildings in his name in the area. I met a few of his cousins and family members.
I’m not a basketball guy, so I really couldn’t say much or ask much about him. I would note though that while in the region, I saw at least 20 people well over seven feet tall. Dinkas are freakin’ tall. That’s what I learned.
Where his body currently lies will eventually be a more substantial grave marker, ala that of his grandfather. Before and after the arbitrary pilgrimage overseen by his dirt-poor, hut-dwelling kinfolk, we went about our business of meeting with local administrators and discussing malaria and mosquito nets. Like ya do.