Thursday, April 24, 2014

A month in Kabale June 3, 2013

Hi Again!

Hi everyone, I hope this finds you well and enjoying some warm weather for a change! I am back in Kisoro, back “home”! The month of May flew by. There was no yoga classes and no hospital volunteering. Those might have been used to entice me to get me to Kabale. Very “African” of them,  but it worked! It was a good experience and nice to get out and see what else is happening in the world. Kabale is a bigger town than Kisoro, yet they had many more power outages and much slower internet, 'tis the reason  you haven’t heard from me!

This time when the rats came to my bed, I actually was awoken by it bumping into my arm. I sat straight up from a dead sleep with a huge gasp and heard it scamper off. I set about tucking the mosquito net so tight under the mattress so that if he came back he would bounce off of it like a trampoline. I was awoken again by the sound of it scurrying around the bedroom a little while later. I just can’t decide which I like better, having rats in my bed or having bed bugs?! I mean, at least the rats don’t make me itch and leave me with red spots all over my body.

I spent the month at Kerungi Children's Village in Kabale. The meaning of "Kerungi" is "something beautiful". And that is is, a beautiful home with 19 beautiful children living in it. They are very lucky kids to be here. About half of them have been abandoned by their parents, many of them alongside the road near the border. The other half have been orphaned. And still I consider them lucky to have found their way here.  Kerungi is owned by Shawn and Primrose. Shawn’s an American from Colorado and Prim is a local woman, they’ve been married for about 17 years and they started the Orphanage almost four years ago. The main caretakers are the  two “house mothers”, one for the boys and one for the girls. There’s also an assistant house mother, Dennick, who is 18 and still in school. Her payment for working here is that Kerungi pays her school fee's. There’s the nursery school teacher, Caleb, who’s also the Manager of the orphanage. He and his wife just had their first baby. Then there’s the woman who comes in to do the laundry six days a week. As you can imagine, 19 kids create an awful lot of laundry. Of course they don’t wear diapers here, so every time one of the little one’s wet themselves, it’s a change of clothes, or maybe every other time they wet themselves. They often just hang out in wet pants and it’s always a surprise when you pick them up! Poor Auntie Mildred, when she’s finished with all that laundry, she goes to dig in the field with the other gardeners. There are two men that are gardeners/security watchmen at night. There’s one woman who comes to dig and that way she can also see her daughter, Shalom. Shalom is the youngest child here. She’s about a year old and her mother brought her to Keyrungi, knowing she couldn’t provide for her. Shalom doesn’t recognize her own mother and she’s very attached to Joan, the housemother for the girls. She thinks Joan is her mother and every time Joan walks out of the room Shalom screams. Namara is the 19th child, who just arrived while I was there. The only thing we know about Namara is that he’s spent the past month sleeping on the floor of the police station, until they called us and Caleb went and picked him up. When Caleb took him to school, to enroll him, he wouldn’t go inside. Caleb had to drag him in, then he refused to speak. When Caleb brought him back, he said, “He did very bad at everything, he wouldn’t talk, wouldn’t answer their questions.” I asked if he’d still be able to go to school, and he told me yes, that he’d still be able to go. There’s Determine with his twinkling eyes who sticks his fingers in his ears and sings, "you can't catch me, you can't catch me" when I walk in the room. Who knew all those songs I learned from Early Childhood classes would come in so handy? They love "ram-sam-sam". Even the ones who can't talk do the actions and sing the rhythm of the song over and over and over again. Then there's Alex with his dueling personalities. He can be the sweetest five-year-old, walking around with a hanky wiping all the snotty noses (yes…it’s a shared hankie!), the very next moment you might find him twisting a two-year-old's arm behind his back just to hear him scream.  There’s  sweet, little Night, with the most beautiful, big smile. There are two sets of twins, the boys are Odongo and Opio, the girls are Kato and Kakuru, whom I still can’t tell apart. There’s Friday, also about a year old. With this many kids, it’s often the older one’s taking care of the younger ones. So, the three-year-old's are washing  the faces of the one-year-old's after lunch. The four-year-old's are often changing the wet pants of the two-year-old's.  After naptime it is one of the bigger boys who takes little Friday, to the potty chair and sits him down on it. After that bigger boy gets him there, he walks away and doesn’t give Friday another thought. I’ve found Friday more than once sitting there, screaming, waiting for someone to come and clean him up. Or sometimes he doesn’t make it to the potty chair and when I go to pick him up after nap, something plops on my toe. I don’t look down, I just kiss Friday’s snotty face and carry him to the bathroom, where I turn on the cold tap water and give my foot and Friday’s bottom half a bird bath. The trickiest part after that is finding Friday some clean clothes.  They have clothes for 11 boys in four duffle bags and/or suitcases. As Friday stands there shivering, I’m searching for some pants that won’t fall off of him when he walks.  During naptime I play Go-Fish with the bigger kids, I wash dishes, or I sit in the shade while Mildred stacks dry laundry in a heap next to me. The walkways are lined with low bushes, they are all draped with clothes, every inch of grass has blankets and sheets spread out to dry on it. She piles the mountain of laundry next to me and I sit for an hour or two and fold and fold and fold. My last week there, the bigger kids went back to school. Gift, Namara, Blessing and Nunu are all in 1st grade. They came running home for lunch and when they found me there folding clothes they ran into my arms and I spun each one of them around in a circle. Even big Namara, who hasn’t spoken to me in the three weeks he’s been here. While Nunu is still laughing and spinning she says, “Where are the cards?” I tell her she has to go eat first. My last Sunday we celebrated the May birthdays, there are three of them. Caleb tells me that many of the kids were “assigned” birthdays according to how they behaved; they guessed at the age of the child and gave them a birthdate. Then I asked him how they knew their names. He explains that many of them knew their own names, but they had to name a few of them who were too young to remember their own names.  Alex, Deo, Antony and Evelyn were all given names when they arrived.  That means that Blessing and Gift were named at birth, a Blessing and a Gift that were later abandoned alongside the road.
All 19 of them have been blessed; they found their way to Kerungi. Here they get two hot meals each day, hot porridge and snacks, toys to play with, clean clothes to wear and a clean, safe bed of their own to sleep in. It is a beautiful thing!

If I've learned anything, other than gratitude the past few months, it is to laugh at myself.  When I go running in the morning people laugh and point. I hear mothers yelling for their children to look, as if a Muzungu isn't interesting enough, put her in a pair of shorts and watch her run! Whooo Hoooo! Good times! Sometimes I don't even know why they're laughing. When I was biking home with Caleb, I asked him if they were laughing because I was a muzungu on a bike, or if it was because I was wearing a helmet? He said, "No, it's because you are a woman on a bike! They think it's a man's sport and you are very strong!" So I laugh also and wave as I go past. Having a bicycle was a treat, after getting used to the crazy traffic and the fear of being run over, I really enjoyed it. The first week there I walked back and forth to the orphanage, which took almost an hour and a half each way. Other than almost hitting a pig I had no incidents!  Because I was wearing a helmet (which is very unusual here) people thought I was just learning to ride. They would say things like, "you're a very quick learner" or "you are learning very good to ride your bike!" It turns out riding a bike is like swimming, only a lucky few have had the opportunity to learn. Every man, woman and child stood and watched me ride away from the orphanage the first day, just to see if I could actually ride a bike, like a said I could. They cheered and waved as I rode away.

While I was gone there was a water crisis in Kisoro, it is truly the dry season now. Guess who had water?!! That's right, Amazing Grace had 10,000 liters of water to tie them over for the week while the rest of the town suffered without water. There were even people going there to fill their jerri-cans!

It feels good to be back in Kisoro and Amazing Grace, I’m looking forward to seeing all those kids. The little one's have been asking, "Where is our Muzungu?" Apparently, I now belong to them! Today was a public holiday, so the post office was closed. First thing in the morning I'll be backing up a truck to the post office doors, I know there are a few packages waiting for us there!


Thanks for all the Love,

Bonnie

"You must be the change you wish to see in the world"   - Mahatma Gandhi

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