Sweet Orphans

Saturday November 5^th, 2010

Going to the orphanage has to be the most rewarding thing we have done so far. Today was my second time out there. It is about an hour away so we go every Saturday if the weather permits.

Although you think life couldn’t get much worse as you look at some of the kids in preschool that are filthy, most likely hungry, dehydrated, and many are sick but never treated; it is possible. Yet it never seems to faze the kids. As they see our truck coming up the drive we can hear their songs and the sounds of chanting for us as they eagerly await the crafts, games and reading to begin. The communication at the orphanage is even harder than the rest of our projects because they only speak shitswa but there is one universal thing that we can give them. Love. That is all they need and want, is some attention and love. As we jump down from the truck, there is no other word to explain, we are absolutely mobbed by kids all ranging in age from 18 months to 18 years old.

The orphanage looks so desolate with only a couple huts on the land and very few trees for shade. I can’t even imagine where everyone sleeps or how all these kids are fed, I can only be glad that we came to help make one day a little bit better for them. We set up crafts in one area. Some of the volunteers put together a pinwheel type project that they could decorate with glitter and colors and watch it spin in the wind or tie on a string and run with it. The children were thrilled with the outcome. We watched them run and run with all the spinning bright colors behind them. Sports were set up on the opposite side of the land. Mostly boys wanted to play football (soccer), but there were also some games like duck duck goose mixed in as well. A mat was laid out for story time. Although they couldn’t possibly know what story was being read to them they marveled in the opportunity to cuddle up on and around and receive a little more attention than average.

I would have been in bliss to do any of the activities today and I thoroughly enjoyed watching all of them from time to time but I volunteered to give private English lessons to the head boy. Mottaish, 18.  He takes such good care of all the kids and is really our only source of translation. Knowing that he will continue to pay it forward is half the reward; the other is knowing I’m giving him a much-deserved lifeline.