I am pretty sure that I can’t actually leave. If it wasn’t for the fact that my visa is running out this month I might just stay with these kids forever. Their smiles alone are enough reason to fall in love with them. And getting to know each one of them has been the biggest gift. I can’t pinpoint what it is about these kids that makes them so INCREDIBLY lovable. Maybe its the amount of time and care we have put into our work and play with them, maybe it’s the constant compassion and care they have from the people who care for them, maybe it’s their resilience to go through hell and come out the other side strong, loving, and goofy, maybe it’s all of these things. Whatever it is, it doesn’t matter, bottom line is they have completely stolen a piece of my heart and I don’t think I’ll ever get it back.
Whenever we aren’t having an art class, or doing some other activity we always bring out the jump ropes and frisbees and go play in the field behind the school. We tried to teach the kids double dutch a few weeks ago, it’s super tricky but some of them totally got the hang of it. Some of the older girls, Sediah, Grace, Halloisah, and Millicent always grab two jump ropes and have gotten pretty good at it. Little Naomi and Eunice are always swinging the rope for one another, they are both very headstrong and often it looks like they are arguing. They are the best of friends though and even after quickly scolding one another they will make a joke and laugh hysterically, arms wrapped around the others shoulders. The ropes are all long for two people to swing and one or more to jump in. But Joyce was holding both handles and swinging it as if it was a normal sized rope, slight confusion on her face each time it didn’t work. Peter is one of the youngest kids at the orphanage and he is constantly trying to keep up with the older boys. He is small and not as good at jumping over the rope, but every time it is his turn the BIGGEST smile breaks across his face and as soon as he messes up he doubles over with laughter. This particular time we brought out the frisbees we had a big circle of kids with three frisbees in circulation. Originally it was me and Kira, Alexander, Hesbon, Beckham, and Shem all throwing the frisbee around to each other. Hesbon had a smile on his face the entire time. He is often more reserved, but sometimes he just comes alive. He wasn’t even super active in the game the whole time, he just had so much fun watching everyone play. If a frisbee went far out of the circle he would run and grab it and hand it off for someone else to throw. Soon Shilley, Justine, Collins, and Patrick joined in. It was so sweet seeing Alexander coaching Justine with proper technique to help him throw the frisbee straight. Then little Eunice, Wilfrieda, Josephine, Brenda and Vanis all started to join in. Everyone was teaching each other the best tricks to throwing the frisbee. Often a wonky throw would hit someone in the knees and everyone would crack up, it was hard to keep track of where all three of the frisbees were. Shilley was really impressed with my one handed catches and he started standing super casually and reaching out his hand trying to not even look in an attempt to catch the frisbee. When he finally caught it with one hand he jumped up and down and did a little dance. Eunice’s laugh sounds like fairy bells and it could be heard all evening as she tried to get the hang of the frisbee. Derrick, Simon, Joash, Patrick, and Edwin are the group of older boys, and they were having so much fun trying to get as many people as possible jumping in the rope at once. Everyone has a different way of playing with the jump ropes, they get so creative. I miss being a kid and playing hard all afternoon, it has been so much fun to revert to our carefree childhood selves and be able to get to know the kids on this level. There aren’t many better ways to get to know someone then playing in the dirt with the simplest of toys until you are completely beat. The days of watching the red earth explode into dust under each of the jumping feet, and seeing kids running after stray frisbees are coming to an end. I can’t even think about saying goodbye to all of my best buds. But it’s reassuring knowing how well they are taken care of and how much they love Samson, Jackline, and all the people that care for them. Gotta run and get ready to hop on the back of a motorcycle and head to hang with the kids again this afternoon. Kwa Heri!
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With every week that passes this feels more and more like our normal life. Time has become a daily mystery. Trying to understand the quickly diminishing amount of time we have left is hard. We can analyze and count down the days in any number of ways, but it doesn’t make it any more real. Part of me feels like this life will go on forever. We have our routines, our schedules, the places we go and the things we do. It just feels like life will be like this forever. But my logical side constantly tells me that time is running out and I need to soak all of this in while I still can.
Every morning Cailin and I wake up in anticipation of what surprises the day will bring (always our fair share), every afternoon we start to guess what dinner will be by the smell (we’ve gotten really good at this), and every night we start to look forward to the tea and fresh fruit that will be on the table for breakfast. Since we have finished so much of our work and the kids at the orphanage are in school we have been spending lots of our mornings at the apartment. There is a sort of a lawn in front of the building that overlooks an incredible view of the community below. Behind the lines of drying laundry and a few beautiful trees with bright orange flowers, the red dirt road winds off into the distance and the tin roofs of the shops and buildings glint in the sunlight. It’s become a perfect place for us to spread out a blanket and spend part of the morning. There’s something wonderful about being fully in this place but with enough distance to avoid the constant stares. The other people in the building have gotten more used to us, although whenever the kids are home from school they gather and surround us, happily watching us read as if it was the most entertaining activity in the world. Its easy to get caught up in the familiarity of our life here, but feeling the sun and the breeze and the fresh air reminds me how incredible it all is. In the afternoons we go into the school to spend time with the kids when they finish their classes. We play outside or if the 4pm rain storm hits, which it does pretty regularly, we draw inside. We did a scavenger hunt with them one day, reaching back to our camp-going/camp counseler days to think of fun activities. They had never heard of a scavenger hunt before, and it was fun to see them all eagerly running around and working in their teams to collect all the items. Samson energetically joined in and his team came in first, the whole group giggling as Samson led them in singing a song for us, the final task to complete. Another day we sent them outside with paper and colored pencils to draw objects around the compound from real life. They all found places to sit and drew trees and cows and flowers and houses. Joash climbed on top of a woodpile to look into the hut where the dogs are kept so he could draw them. And Hesbon drew Samson and Jackline sitting outside and could not have been more proud to show us the result. These kids are something else. None of them can ever be found without a ready smile. Listening to Samson talk about them and watching him interact with them makes it clear that the support they are getting from the staff at the orphanage is grounded in respect, compassion and love. A couple of days last week we went in to the school early to sit in on classes. As soon as we walked into the first classroom I found myself reverting back to elementary school me. It was hard to not whisper to Cailin sitting next to me and I got anxious every time a teacher would look my way, nervous they would call on me. Besides struggling with my own desire to misbehave and avoid answering questions, it was so fun to see the kids from the orphanage in a classroom environment. The classes were active and involved. The teachers constantly asked the class if they were understanding and often the full class would respond to the teacher. There was definitely no room to be dozing off. Whenever a question was asked, all hands would shoot up, fingers snapping, the kids calling “teacher teacher!”. Many of the kids from the orphanage seemed to be leading their classes, answering a lot of the questions or helping the teachers gather books and erase the chalkboard. In the first grade classroom, any time a student answered a question correctly on the board the whole class would sing and clap on beat as the student did a little dance in the front of the classroom. Despite the crumbling red brick walls, unfinished rooms, dirt floors and the cramped wooden benches, it was clear that as much active learning was happening there as in the sterilized classrooms filled with posters and craft supplies and books that I spent my elementary school years in. During our art lessons and games, one of the boys has emerged as an artist and a bit of a troublemaker. Shilley’s mischievous smile is often one of the first we see and he is clearly very well loved among the kids. It’s not unusual to hear his name being called back and forth as his friends laugh at his antics or encourage him to come to join their games. He returned his drawing from our time outside with an incredibly accurate picture of a cow and an impressively detailed car. He needs sponsorship for the upcoming year, and we’ve made him a profile at https://mixonium.com/mx/1964. It's hard to describe these kids and express how incredible each one is in their own way. Spending time with them and building relationships with them has been the biggest gift of this trip, and the idea of being able to spread a bit of the energy and joy of each one is exciting and inspiring. A big part of this trip for us has been letting go of control. We wrote this blog post for our halfway mark, which was a few days ago. But that day we lost power and we’ve been out for over 48 hours and of course all our electronics died at the most inconvenient time. Classic. Here is a little random collection of thoughts to commemorate our halfway day: Yesterday we were sitting in the office and the kids kept walking by and giggling. We were doing our own thing, working on some paperwork when Andy came up and said “they are waiting for you.” We looked up and there stood every single one of the kids, gathered together in a group staring through the office door at us expectantly. We had nothing prepared. But they were so sweet, waiting patiently for us. We got up and asked them all what they wanted to do, they sounded excited about drawing so we taught another impromptu art class that produced adorable drawings of each other. It was so sweet, looking up and seeing all of their expectant faces. We realized that we are no longer exciting to them because we are mzungu’s (white people). But now they are excited to see us because they want to play games and draw and learn what we have to teach them. We are over halfway done our time here. It’s hard to believe. This week we actually started to stop feeling like visitors. We have become a part of normal daily life for other people as well as them being part of daily life for us.
We are really excited about the time we have left. So much has changed since we got here, our relationship with this place and these people. And we are only halfway, so much more can happen. We’ve already created bonds with all these kids and we have the same amount of time to get to know them that much more. Even in the market place they are getting used to us and staring less. There is still so much potential for our relationship with this place. Two of the biggest cultural observations we have made about Kenya is that: Time in Africa doesn’t run people, people run time, and North America has huge personal space issues. Time is irrelevant. Everyone is doing their thing, no matter what, It is normal to pause to sit on the side of the road and chat for an hour, or even when rushing to town in a hurry people will often stop to talk to multiple people. Sometimes we are told to be ready by 6:30 am. When in reality we end up leaving by 8. This is totally fine by me, I run late as a general rule. Give me an extra hour to fall back asleep? no problem, I wasn’t ready anyway. But Kira’s Wyncoll streak is struggling. You tell her to be ready at a certain time, she will be ready exactly at that time. No one stops for anyone here, at first it seems like people aren’t aware of each other, when in reality it is more a combination of hyper awareness, and they just don’t care if their personal space intersects with everyone else’s. Motorcycles will squeeze past a car and nobody cares because its not offensive for people to get inside your ‘personal space circle.’ That just doesn’t exist. On the Matatu you can’t tell if someone is best friends with the person next to them or if they are complete strangers. Everyone talks and sits on each others laps, they have got their arms around each other, saving space. On public transportation in North America people rarely sit in a middle seat. Often people would rather stand then sit in a seat beside someone. We have been able to do so much already, we have travelled cross-country through different landscapes and met so many people from different tribes. We have been through the poor parts of town and eaten in little hole in the wall restaurants overlooking busy roundabouts. The amount of work we have gotten done for HCIC feels really satisfying and it feels like we have the perfect amount left. Enough to fill our time and still leave us with time to just enjoy the people we have grown to love. It is so hard to try to portray these kids. Each of them is a different combination of nerves, love, opinions, and mannerism. We have tried our best to gather up as much as possible to put into paper and picture form for sponsors. It is crazy that some of them don’t have sponsors yet. We have been creating a little online snapshot into each of their lives on a new app/website called mixonium. Each orphan will have a page with a collection of a few pictures, information, and possibly report cards or artwork. This will be available only to the sponsors. For the kids that still need sponsors we have created an public version. For example, here is a little peek into Annah’s life. https://mixonium.com/mx/1736. If you are interested in sponsoring Annah or any of the other kids, visit the HCIC web page helpingchildrenincrisis.com/help/sponsor and you can always check out the HCIC facebook page to find more information and updates URL. Every night after dinner we crawl into bed and talk about life. Life here, life at home, how messed up life is, how wonderful life is, how different people live life, realizations about life, and how big life is. Our room consists of a bed, a desk that holds our backpacks of clothes, a window, and a 2 by 3 square foot piece of floor where the door swings open. It’s got a transporting quality to it- it’s small, simple, square and whenever we climb under the blue divide of the mosquito net and sit there staring at the night sky it feels like we could be anywhere in the world. Often it feels like we are just in a room at home, when of course in reality we are miles across the blue atlantic in the other hemisphere. It’s weird paying attention to our thoughts and realizing that it is getting harder to picture back home. When we first got here we would daydream about life back home but now more often then not we find our day dreams are about life here. At the beginning we did not think we were going to adapt. We were sure that each day we would have really low times and feel like falling apart, spilling, and giving up. We knew that we could physically get through each day, but we felt like emotionally it was going to be so difficult, every single day. Now way more often then not we fall asleep excited for the next day, and happy with where we are. And for the first time in a long we don’t feel like racing to the next stage in life. Partially because we just can’t. If you think about the big picture its overwhelming. So it has totally forced us to just be, and to think “I’m here and I just have to do here.” Which is really good, because it makes us appreciate each thing so much more: Each meal, each smile from the kids, each cup of tea, each freezing shower. We wouldn’t have it any other way. From across the blue divide- Sincerely, Cailin and Kira We live here. We have completely settled in. We are finally immersed into this life. It’s strange feeling at home in a country thousands of miles away from our regular lives. Rationally I know how shocking and different daily life is here, but actually living it every day makes everything seem normal. Kira and I were remembering from our past trips that nothing quite hits you fully until you’re home. We are equally excited and nervous for going back. Halfway is coming up. We can barely believe it.
Another Sunday came and went. We went to church which is still so kindly spoken in both English and Swahili. We got to hear all the children singing, and then in true Kenyan fashion aggressively shook many hands. Then, as we were leaving Samson spontaneously announced- “Today, you will have a new driver!” Confused, the normal driver David climbed out of the drivers seat, and my stomach did cartwheels as I realized that he was talking about me. Everyone was laughing; half amused, half in disbelief that I was going to drive the blue van ( it’s more the size of a miniature school bus, although it felt like I was behind the wheel of a semi). Ever since they learned I could drive stick shift, they have been joking about me driving here. It had never been talked about seriously because the idea is so ridiculous. For them: it would be insane because white people never drive here in Kenya. And in these villages, or really anywhere outside of Nairobi, it is extremely rare to even see a women driving. So a white woman from America... never gonna happen. And from my perspective: ...The roads are dirt and rocks, with potholes the size of craters, often at a very intense incline. And they are tiny, barely fitting two cars, often we squeeze by other vehicles with less then two inches of room. And everyone drives fast, and motorcycles, people, cows, and chickens are constantly darting out in front of you. AND the drivers seat is the other side of the car, left hand stick shift, ...on the other side of the road. But no time to think about any of that! Because there I was in the drivers seat, disengaging the emergency break, and pulling out of the orphanage, in the rain. Of course there was no way I was going to pass up this opportunity to expand my international driving repertoire. As we were pulling out of the orphanage we would drive by different kids and they would look up and complete shock would pass across their faces only to be quickly replaced by explosive laughter. I myself could not stop laughing the entire drive home, it was surreal. I kept expecting for the driver to yell from the back seat, telling me to pull over. But he never did. And there I was driving through the town of Ogembo with Kira and Andy in the front seat. And the rest of the family cracking up in the back of the van. We created quite a scene, people normally stare once they see white people, or “mzungus” in the car. This time we left a ripple effect of double takes and shocked faces behind us as the little blue van kicked up dirt and made it’s way up the steep incline home. I got out of the car and I think it took a full five minutes for my brain and my left leg (very out of practice with the clutch) to actually realize what just happened. I didn’t hit any motorcycles, or tip the van or anything! Just when life started to feel normal, something new and crazy was thrown into the mix. Always keeping us on our toes. The next day was Monday, September 1st. The first day back at school after everyones two week break. Kira and I woke up early, ready to take Gener (Gina), Helga, and Heather to their high school in Narok, 4 hours away. The trip was beautiful. I couldn’t take my eyes off the landscape. About halfway through our trip we started to leave the red earth roads, and lush-tropical-forested-exceptionally-green Rift Valley and enter into the dusty-cactus-populated-savannah of Masai land. Fences were replaced by cacti planted in rows, and circular mud huts with thatch roofs took the place of crumbling concrete houses. What we saw of the Masai tribe was that they are one of the Kenyan tribes that have not strayed very far towards Westernization. They live simply, off the land, herding their cows through the dust to the watering holes, resting underneath the umbrella-like African trees that seem to grow with the knowledge of how necessary shade is to escape the scorching sun. It is incredible how quickly the entire landscape and lifestyle changes within one country. Soon we had made it to the girls school. We passed through security at the gates and the girls all checked themselves in, excitedly greeting the friends they hadn’t seen in weeks. Kira and I followed Samson, Gener, Helga, Heather, and Dorothy into the main building of the school. We stopped quickly to compose ourselves after reading a sign that simply stated in bold font. “Are you lazy? Try a different school.” This was the first of many of the most incredibly blunt and strangely inspiration signs scattered across the campus. We caught up with the family and found ourselves stifling our laughter only to be told to enter the Principals office. Memories of high school flooded my brain and I could tell Kira was experiencing the same thing. After almost five minutes of pushing one another in front and debating who was going to go first, Dorothy bravely led the way and we were herded into the Principals office. All I could think about was the last time I was in the principals office at my high school... Pretty sure I was getting demerits for being late way too many times. Timeliness is not my forte. Even though it has been years since high school, AND we were visiting a school in a different country it, standing there in her office it still felt like we had done something wrong. She was very friendly, and we left, slightly hurried, successfully escaping any punishment we irrationally expected. Dorothy then led us around the campus, she was excited to show us her old stomping ground. She had graduated in excellent standing in 2011 and she was excited to reconnect with some of her favorite teachers. When we were done, one of Dorothy’s old teachers asked me what I had learned. And again with the flashbacks to high school. I felt like I was winging a speech that I had forgotten about and was completely unprepared for. The rusted gears in my brain turned slowly as my mouth was quickly cycling through all the filler words it could remember. Finally I managed to tell him that the inspirational quotes painted on the buildings were the highlight of our tour. He asked what my favorite one was. “A person who hates correction is stupid” was a definite crowd pleaser. But I responded with “A word fitly spoken is like apples of gold in settings of silver.” The irony hurt a little bit. We then said good-bye to Gener, Helga, and Heather. Getting to know them was so much fun, and we already miss having them around. They are away at school most of the year, so we were so lucky to get as much time with them as we did. A short trip in the blue van brought us to downtown Narok where we did some shopping in the Masai market for traditional African jewelry and art. Tourists will pay almost anything, so as soon as they see the color of our skin they almost double their prices. Dorothy helped us by talking the prices down an incredibly substantial amount. Yet another reason we would be lost without her. The market was buzzing, the colorful beaded belts and ornate headdresses swung gently in the breeze, and the store owners cheerful bantering combined with the hum of the traffic made the market feel alive. Men and women alike worked on beading projects; hands whirring away as they chatted with the other store owners, or tried to catch your attention and draw you into their little shack. Finally, content with our gifts for family and friends back home we climbed in the van to start the four hour return journey. The scenery was just as visually stimulating on the ride home, and other then the fact that the seats are less-then-luxurious, and have a tendency to make you incredibly sore, it was a pleasant trip home through a mesmerizing rain storm. When we arrived home Nicole ran up to me and asked if we were coming to the school the next day. She said that Joyce was asking where we were all day and that the kids miss us. I told her we missed them too and we’ll be back as soon as we get some other work done. That night I fell asleep so quickly, cozy and content. It was my birthday, and it had been an incredibly wonderful day. One of the most important jobs we have to complete while here is to help create an exit plan for the children who are graduating/have graduated high school. On Tuesday we went to Kisii-town to visit three of the local colleges to gather information on the vocations offered at the different schools, and get some real numbers on costs to complete the different levels of education. The three schools we visited were: the Gusii Institute of Technology, The E-Smart Technical College, and We were also researching how much it would cost for the students to live in Kisii; food, clothing, and all other living expenses have to be calculated in. We are collecting as much data as possible to help HCIC get a good feel for the full price of college and vocational school to help figure out what we can offer to the graduates. It is pretty confusing because higher level education is done very differently then in America. But the admissions and registrars at each school spoke excellent English and were more then willing to help. It was like applying to college all over again. Actually though. At each school we would arrive, and then sit down with the registrar and somehow during the explanation of why we were there, the language barrier caused a problem and they always ended up thinking that we were the ones interested in applying. And let me tell you, these schools desperately wanted us to come. It probably looks pretty good to have foreigners coming to your school. As funny as it was to pretend to apply to each of these colleges it really helped us to get all the information we needed, and more. At Africa Nazarene University we had to wait for an armored truck from the bank protected by three men with guns to get loaded up before we could leave the parking lot. We had already visited the school, but while we were waiting two men came out and introduced themselves. First Patrick introduced himself to us, he worked in admissions at the college. And then his colleague “Noah, not the one that built the ark” introduced himself as a pastor, chaplain, and professor at the college. They chatted with us about where we were from and were excited that I had heard of their sister school Nazarene University, in America. They were so friendly, asking how we liked Kisii, they then spent the next ten minutes trying to convince us to go to their college and to “come by and say hi whenever we were in town!” We returned home loaded with pamphlets and notes on prices from the three schools, it was a productive day. That evening I was banned to my room and could hear Kira and Dorothy laughing in the kitchen. Later, I was led blindfolded to the dinner table that was covered with my favorite Kenyan dinner, popcorn, and a “cake” from the market. I stood taking it all in as they sang to me. The candles cast a trembling orange light, lighting up the dark room during the power outage. “I did not want you to think we had forgotten to celebrate your birthday” Dorothy said. She is so sweet and perceptive. She had made popcorn because one day we got it from town and she noticed how much I enjoyed it. I was touched, I had totally enjoyed my actual birthday the day before, and yet she still created a special dinner, wanting to make me feel at home and part of the family. Being here is a fresh start. This past year has been incredibly tough. Thoughts are shifting and changing. It’s a time of transition. And now I have a new year to fill with adventure. Being human is complicated and heavy. Life is big. People are beautiful. I am so grateful. |