The moment we have all been waiting for is…a little awkward. I don’t know where the idea came from, but we had been under the impression that most of the children could speak English. We are disappointed to find that most speak only Kumam, the local dialect of Luo that is spoken in Kaberamaido. This makes interacting difficult.
The children are lined up in rows on either side of the mosque where they are staying until the Children’s Village Orphanage is constructed. They are beautiful—adorable—just as we had anticipated. But unlike the children we met in Entebbe, these orphans do not automatically smile and giggle at the sight of us. They look decidedly sullen. Perhaps they think this is how we want them to act—well-behaved?
To break the tension, Jacquie demonstrates juggling with limes. She offers to teach a child. To our surprise, he shows her how it’s done. One little girl runs off with one of our “balls” to eat it.
Dr. Bill Fridinger enthusiastically attempts to shake hands with all 160 children. His enthusiasm is mirrored by the orphans, who smile and giggle at his goofiness.
I’m not sure how to feel. I’m happy that the children get three square meals a day. Many others don’t. I’m also happy to find that their six caretakers are kind.
But the children sleep cramped into two small rooms, one for boys and one for girls. Each room is about the size of a master bedroom. Some children sleep on mattresses, others directly on the floor. Not only would this be uncomfortable, but my mind leaps immediately to how easily diseases can be translated in this overcrowded environment.
I’m also appalled to discover that the two pit latrines are cleaned only once a day. When I request to use the bathroom, I am met with warnings that the kids are “very messy,” and offers to escort me the half-mile walk back to the safety of our lodging’s bathrooms. I insist on using the orphanage bathroom in an attempt to avoid inconveniencing anyone, but discover a preteen girl cleaning it especially for me.
Nobody sees this living situation as ideal. That’s why Sarah Asayo has purchased land and is in the process of fundraising for the Children’s Village Orphanage, which will include many more rooms for the children to stay in, as well as teaching rooms, a medical facility, lodging for the matrons and volunteers, and other amenities.
I’m not sure how to feel. I’m happy that the children get three square meals a day. Many others don’t. I’m also happy to find that their six caretakers are kind.
But the children sleep cramped into two small rooms, one for boys and one for girls. Each room is about the size of a master bedroom. Some children sleep on mattresses, others directly on the floor. Not only would this be uncomfortable, but my mind leaps immediately to how easily diseases can be translated in this overcrowded environment.
I’m also appalled to discover that the two pit latrines are cleaned only once a day. When I request to use the bathroom, I am met with warnings that the kids are “very messy,” and offers to escort me the half-mile walk back to the safety of our lodging’s bathrooms. I insist on using the orphanage bathroom in an attempt to avoid inconveniencing anyone, but discover a preteen girl cleaning it especially for me.
Nobody sees this living situation as ideal. That’s why Sarah Asayo has purchased land and is in the process of fundraising for the Children’s Village Orphanage, which will include many more rooms for the children to stay in, as well as teaching rooms, a medical facility, lodging for the matrons and volunteers, and other amenities.
We organize the children into two circles. We play Simon Says, Red Rover, Duck Duck Goose, and other American favorites. The sound of their laughter is priceless.
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