Lesson #7 – Recognize reality, Beware of bitterness
3/26 10:07p.m.
Tomorrow, when Victoria and I go to town I might purchase some toys, books, and/or crafts for the kids. So far, I’ve seen two lego blocks, one plastic dinosaur, one broken flashlight, and one small red ball. I will ask Victoria what she thinks.
The children’s home I visited in Nepal was not an orphanage, but a family that included several adopted kids. BKU is indeed a children’s home. In Nepal, the kids and parents all lived together and equally in the same house. Here, past the age of six, boys live in a separate dorm, and most girls go to boarding school. Victoria and a few of the kids and aunties stay in the house, but everyone else sleeps in the dorms. I need to ask my friends who are in Cameroon at an orphanage and who went to the orphanage in Bhairahawa, Nepal what their experiences were like to see if this is abnormal.
3/27 9:30p.m.
I went to play with the kids this evening and upon entering the playroom I noticed a small puddle. Through body language I asked, “What is this?” In response, I heard, “Obama” and saw several tiny, child fingers pointed between their legs. Obama had wet himself. One of the kids wiped the urine up with a spare cloth and Obama was left in his soiled shorts. He eventually just let them fall to the ground, so I asked, again through hand motions, for another pair of pants. One of the girls brought me a pair and I put them on Obama. I didn’t know where to put his dirty shorts, so I left them on the floor with other items of clothing. I will check in the morning to see if they are in the same place.
Obama has the sweetest eyes. Usually walking around naked or without pants, with two fingers in his mouth. He has a very big head and belly, and very skinny legs and arms. His arms are so limp, and it shocks me that he can hold his weight on his legs. He doesn’t talk much, but cries in an instant if a toy is taken from him, his porridge is knocked over, he’s put down too soon, or my attention is not focused solely on him. While holding him between my legs, cradling Sheila in my left arm, and playing catch with Ester with my right hand, I noticed Obama looking and reaching up at my face, maybe for my glasses or earrings. I took this eye-to-eye contact as an opportunity for a connection…I tickled him. He smiled the first 3-4 times, but then pushed my hand away with a groan. I didn’t take it personally (I don’t too much like to be tickled either).
I asked Victoria more about him, and she explained that his mother and father are both alcoholics. He was abandoned in front of her gate. A few days later, his mother called and explained that she couldn’t care for Obama. Victoria hasn’t seen his father since Obama was in the hospital, close to death last year. At this time, Victoria found the mother, allowed her to live at BKU, even provided meals everyday. But once Obama came home from the hospital, the mother soon went back to drinking. His dad is well educated, speaks English very well, was a pilot in the military, but always drinks. His mom has TB. Victoria had both parents tested for HIV/AIDS, and both parents and Obama are negative. Obama is very sickly and clearly ill, but doctors can’t figure out what the problem is.
It can go without saying that while this child and President Obama carry the same name (and Victoria says may even come from the same tribe), they are worlds apart.
3/28 10:16p.m.
When I first arrived, there was a young girl, around 15 years old, here with a baby. Victoria explained that the girl was working for a family and was raped by one of the sons. She became pregnant and the boy’s parents denied their son as the father. When the girl told her parents, they disowned her and cast her to the streets. Somehow she arrived at BKU, had her baby, and now the baby is about 2 months old.
I haven’t seen the girl for about two days, so I asked Victoria where she is. Victoria explained that the police located the boy and picked the girl and baby up to make the boy to take responsibility for the infant child. Victoria is not sure if the girl will end up staying with the boy and his parents, or if she will return home to her own parents once the police explain the situation. If the girl goes home with the boy, he may eventually abandon her and his child, his parents may treat the girl badly, or her own parents may not take her back. I will pray for her and the baby, and even the boy and his family.
3/30 9:15p.m.
Heather’s arrival has also assured me that my uneasy feelings about the accommodations/infrastructure at BKU are not unfounded. Heather, too, feels troubled by the kids’ tattered clothes and unsanitary (according to Western standards) living quarters. We both are trying to balance these feelings with knowing that the kids’ lives are far better here than where they were/would be. They go to school, eat three meals and porridge everyday, wash daily, are safe and secure every night, and have medical care. Most importantly, they know they have a home and are loved. No, they don’t have all that I had growing up, or all that I will provide for my children (Inshallah). But like my mother did for me, Victoria ensures they have all they need, and often more.
 |
| Abe practicing balancing things on his head. |
 |
| Abe on the left cooking, Obama tearing paper for the soup. |
 |
| The office library. |
 |
| Arnold entertaining himself. |
 |
| Heather and Richard. He's so shy. |
 |
| Obama again. |
