Alone in an orphanage - Feb 23rd

Alone in an orphanage – updated picasa pictures https://picasaweb.google.com/mikinduri/2013MCOH

The last day of the clinic was a big success! In total, we saw 6,500 patients! We had a half day of seeing patients, broke for lunch, and spent the remainder of the day preparing for next year (inventory, etc). All of the professionals and volunteers then came back to camp for a quick celebration and unveiling of two plaques, dedicating the rehab clinic and MCOH offices. The night continued with a fierce ajuaa competition, in which Martin was the victor. (Cheri fought hard though, they finally called it around midnight when they continued to tie: 6-5 Martin).

The next morning, we packed into the combi’s, and said goodbye to mikinduri. One team went to Chaaria to deliver medical supplies. The other stopped by Kinwe (pronounced Kin-oye) to pick up penpal letters for Westwood school. Also while we were at Kinwe Primary, Jennifer dropped off a beautiful dress to her little Winnie, made locally, and I delivered a bag of goods to my mom’s newly sponsored child Valentine Marugi. Valentine was called on multiple times during the class I sat in on, and I just couldn’t get her out of my head. She’s a good student but too hungry to focus very well. Now that she’s sponsored, hopefully her marks will improve.

Then the team met up at St Clare’s and St Francis’ orphanage, outside of Meru. This is where Ted and I would stay for a few nights when the rest of the team headed to sweetwater’s game park. When we arrived, the Class 8 girls immediately came out and welcomed us, taking us by the hand and speaking very fine English. They showed us all of their rooms in their nice facility that is home to 320 girls, ranging from 5 to 18 years old. Some interesting posters on the wall advocated for peace in the upcoming elections and against tribalism and violence. Heavy stuff, I didn’t expect on the wall. Then we toured the boy’s facility where 200+ boys reside, from 5 to 20 years old.

Then the team left for Sweetwaters. It’s funny because as they were about to leave, I was starting to realize everything familiar was leaving with them. Ted was staying with the boys and had an agenda. I had no agenda, only a bag with my robot and a phone. I no longer had bottled water (serious fear), driver, translater, or friends. From being surrounded by the same people every moment of the day and a very ordered schedule, to absolute freedom and uncertainty, it was an unsettling feeling. That coupled with the sadness of leaving Mikinduri, the weight of everything that was accomplished, and the sad stories and cases sinking in, it became very hard to hold back my tears. I was suddenly terrified of being left alone. I knew the experience at the orphanage would be good, I just didn’t want to be the only one to experience it. With no other choice (as the combi was gone), I walked back into the orphanage and spoke with the woman in charge: Sarah, a lovely lady. She showed me to a room on the 4th floor that was basic with only a bed and mosquito net, shared longdrop toiled, and cold shower. However the bed (no pillow) was clearly in a better condition than my last mattress and everything looked clean. This would definitely do, plus it’s nickname is the ‘penthouse’. I then met with Madame Sylvia (every lady here is ‘Madame’) to arrange which classes I could talk to regarding space and robots.

With my teaching schedule in hand, I wandered up to my room to get ready before lunch. Before I could shut the door, the tears finally came. I had held them back the entire trip, but they came once my tasks were completed. I would like to say the tears came for the baby Jennifer, for all of the people I had to say ‘no we can’t help you’, for the babies who were malnourished and I just walked by, for the people who asked for money to pay for their medicine and I said ‘no’. I did feel sad about all of these things, but if I’m being honest, I was most sad because I was alone. I had surrounded myself with amazing, hardworking, dedicated, honest people, and suddenly after 17 days, I was on my own, completely alone. I felt the sadness and the tears, and I knew how absurd it was to feel this way, but I didn’t yet see the irony. Later, I realized that I was in an orphanage, crying because I was all alone. I still had a family, parents, and a home, yet I was surrounded by girls who did not have those amazing luxuries. They were welcoming me into their homes and I had to experience (in a very small way) what they felt before I could feel welcome.

After thanking God for the reality check I knew I needed, I wandered downstairs to find out if there was lunch. In a very laidback, African way, I had no idea when lunch was. I knew where it was supposed to be, it was now 1pm, but I didn’t see anything laid out. So, there were a few Americans that were just ending their trip that I joined for lunch. It was nice to chat about the school and their experience volunteering teaching for a few weeks. Then I headed into the classes to teach about robots. The classes went well and my main purpose was not to talk about gravity, rockets, satellites, robots, autonomy, or programming, it was to be a real example to the girls that women can do anything. In Kenya, sometimes I question whether or not this is really true. The women are incredibly strong, but they have to work so hard just to stay in school past the marrying age. I wanted the girls to know that there were women engineers, and if they have a passion, they should follow it. The classes were great and the students had articulate questions. We discussed autonomy (ability to think for yourself) from a social standpoint as well as engineering, and I enjoyed starting the class with ‘so you know how boys are smarter than girls?’ (at which point the girls would all look confused like I actually meant such a silly thing). Over the course of two weeks, I spoke to over 200 students from ten different 7th – 12th grade classes about robotics and they got to interact with a real robot! Some of the children didn’t even have shoes. What a crazy combination!

At break, I followed the Class 8 girls outside and we ate mangos right off of the tree. Yum! They started playing with my hair and asking many social questions about Canada. Then we participated in the way of the cross (stations of the cross, following the steps in the crucifixion). It was such a peaceful, simple, beautiful ceremony, I was satisfied that I made the right decision. In the simple, Kenyan way, the stations of the cross were done by the whole girl’s school, wandering around a field, stopping every 50 ft or so. There was nothing inside, nothing complicated, just wandering around a field with cricket-like bugs jumping on me during the service. Following this, I went with the girls to their class (8) and they went to get the ‘plaiter’ who would braid my hair. Note, I did not request this, but when 22 orphan girls are begging to do your hair….you don’t say no! While they were doing this, I showed them pictures on my laptop and we listened to music. I got the chance just to hang out with them and began to feel like a life-sized barbie. They finished my hair after a few hours and headed off to bed (with dinner in between somewhere).

The girls are very regimented. They wake at 4am to exercise and are in their classrooms for personal study until 9pm. The girls are in charge of helping with cleaning and each takes it upon herself to maintain order. The classes are not rowdy in spite of having no teacher around for hours.

The next morning I resumed teaching and headed to the boy’s side as well, then spent the afternoon with Class 8. We walked down to the market and I spent $8 buying all 22 girls sodas and some donuts, (that are more like sweetbread), and replacing the rubber-bands my hair needed to stay braided. The girls walked around demanding ‘non-mazungo prices’ and actually got them. They procured a bracelet for me that would have cost 400 shillings for around 80 ($1). We then walked back to the school and had a dance party, exactly as you’d imagine a bunch of 9th grade girls. Their dancing was incredible, but I felt like I was at a sleepover. It was so much fun. They kept asking for my talent, so I showed them some of the yoga and they gave it a try. I was sad to leave them, but I wanted to spend time with the older girls as well. So I gave my hairdresser (Elizabeth) a necklace, and said goodbye to my new little sisters. I moved onto playing cribbage and ajuaa with the 12th grade girls; both games had to be taught. The older girls are sweet, somewhat trepidatious about the future, as they are the first graduating class and feel high expectations to succeed. It was a wonderful evening of conversation and I even taught them a few bible songs, at their insistence. They made me promise to return next year and we exchanged emails.

Earlier in the day, I spoke with the Dominican sisters who live here, all in their 70′s. They consider their role to be grandmothers to the girls, and I found that so beautiful. Not only are orphans missing their immediate family, but they don’t get the pleasure of grandparents and cousins. These sisters described the little things each of them do to ensure the girls feel like they have grandmothers: follow up when they are sick, do arts and crafts, ensure they will acclimate to the real world. It was so sweet.

As I expected it would be, the weekend was amazing. I just can’t believe I have to leave tomorrow. I never imagined it could be this great. I’d like to think my role here was as a big sister, to encourage the girls that they can follow their path, be silly, play games, and buy them some junk food. I must sign off now though, as mass is either at 6am, 630, or 7, depending on who you ask. This is Africa (TIA)! I may not even know for sure tomorrow….. I will be meeting the team in Meru immediately after mass and we’ll head to Nairobi to fly out very early Monday morning, hopefully arriving late Monday night. (Though the last 3 years this did not happen). We will be soon back in the land of snow, stop lights, and just being another face in the crowd instead of those ‘mazungus’.