Every night Kira and I turn the light out, crawl under our mosquito net, and we chat about our day until we begin to drift off to sleep and I end up stealing the sheet (sorry). Lately we’ve spent this time laughing our heads off due to something completely ridiculous that one of us says. At this time of night my brain shuts off and I can’t even keep continents, countries, and states straight, or wrap my head around the fact that a dogmusher is a real thing. (Kira the Canadian set me straight, she understands things like winter and dogsleds.) But it is all because we are completely worn out by a full day of work. Feeling exhausted after a long day at the orphanage with the kids is the best thing ever and I will trade my late night sanity for that any day.
Lucky for us as soon as Kira was healed we have spent as much time as possible at the orphanage. We finished compiling the information sheets on each of the 64 kids. These include everything from interviews with the kids, their house parents (Mary and Nehemiah), Samson, and their teachers, to the stories of how they were orphaned, their GPA, health, and everything else that we could describe about them on paper. Interviewing Samson and the house parents was terrific. They had so much to share about each kid, and often we would read a name and they would burst into laughter, and share hilarious stories about the kid. They speak from a place of warmth and incredible affection. If you somehow manage to not fall in love with the kids just by seeing them smile, hearing Samson, Mary, and Nehemiah speak about them will change that instantly. We also recently had each of the high school kids write a letter to their sponsor because they will be heading back to their respective high schools soon. They wrote straight from the heart, in broken English, but there is no misunderstanding the outpouring of gratitude and genuine love bursting off the pages. One day after we had finished up these tasks we brought out some sidewalk chalk and dry erase boards that we brought from home. The kids scrambled to take turns drawing hearts and chickens and spirals on the chalkboards in an empty classroom. I was doodling around drawing a face, swapping colors with the mass of kids squeezed around me claiming a piece of the chalkboard. Suddenly they were all scrambling for a seat, and I stood alone at the front of the room. Dorothy had said something in Swahili and stopped everyone and there I was in front of a classroom of about 40 kids eager to learn how to draw a face. So I taught a little impromptu lesson and drew a big ridiculous looking face on the black board, getting the kids input for eye color, etc, and testing them on their English facial anatomy. I wanted to let them back at the blackboard, so I wrapped up quickly and ended with a pair of bright green glasses and a curly mustache and beard, apparently that was the right decision because they burst into laughter and every face they proceeded to draw included the mustache and glasses. Alexander spent the next fifteen minutes intently copying my face, he tugged on my skirt and proudly showed me his replica. Elizabeth then took a turn drawing a face on the chalkboard and Kira grabbed the dry erase boards and passed them out so other kids could try. They were clearly enjoying themselves immensely. Kira and I realized that they don’t have art in school. So for part of each day for the next six weeks we are hoping to facilitate art and craft time with the kids.
We brought out skipping ropes that we had brought over from Kay Alden and passed them out to the kids who could not have been more enthusiastic and grateful for this gift. They spent the next two or more hours skipping rope. Kira and I tried fairly unsuccessfully to teach them double dutch. But they would not give up, their determination was etched in their faces and there was a constant stream of kids trying to maneuver the two ropes. Finally a few of them started to pick up jumping in between them. Wycliff emerged as the little double dutch superstar, gathering a little crowd when he managed over 40 jumps with the two ropes. Everyone cheered for him. Their camaraderie is so endearing.
Today we took a Matatu to Kisii. Matatus are the Kenyan version of public transportation. Basically its a 12 seater van with a driver and a guy that hangs out the side gathering passengers. You fit yourself in like a puzzle piece, often sitting in between seats, or you end up with a complete stranger on your lap. They average about 30 passengers. Kira and I are getting used to the fact that we are most likely going to be stared at and talked about for most of the ride. But I really enjoy riding anywhere here, the scenery is so vibrant and captivating, I’ve driven the same route to Kisii many times by now, but every time I sit by the window enjoying the passing countryside with the wind blowing forcefully on my face, trying to combat the sweatiness of the overstuffed van.
Today all we had to do in Kisii was go to the bank so our trip was fairly quick. but not uneventful. I saw the 3rd white person I’ve seen since I’ve been here! He walked into the bank and up to the ATM next to us. We both awkwardly stared for just a second too long and a got back to our various tasks a bit to suddenly. He greeted us, sounding just as surprised to see us as we were to see him. We awkwardly struggled our way through a short interaction where we learned that he was from Minnesota and working at a Children’s home in Kisii-town for the past two months. It was hilarious how out of practice we are with the most basic form of communication. Other then talking to Kira he was the first English-as-a-first-language-person I have talked to we arrived in Kenya. I am not kidding when I say I have forgotten how to communicate. We were so surprised to see him that we don’t really blame everyone for staring at us anymore. We are a commodity.
I’m realizing that communication is very trained, it’s adaptable and environmental. Yes, I speak English and have no trouble communicating when I am home and used to the subtleties and nuances. Here, I also speak English and have had to relearn how to communicate. But we have gotten pretty decent at talking to kids who barely speak English. So much of communication is non-verbal. As much as I would love to speak Swahili it’s not necessary to communicate in this country. It is amazing to me how much you can understand from body language and facial expressions. The face possesses so much power. It conveys every emotion ten times more poignantly then words. It portrays power, interest level, attention span, level of understanding, compassion. A parting of the lips indicates they have a response. Flaring nostrils signifying you have struck a nerve. A glimmer in the eye showing interest. There may not be physical strength or intellectual knowledge, but never underestimate the power of the face.