After yesterday at the Street Kids Centre, we have a lot on our minds. We are eager to get back there, to put our bunk bed plan in action. We want to help, now, now, now!Today, though, it is another group that is going to visit our homeless street kid friends, and my "team" heads to the babies home to hang out with homeless little ones, under three years old. On the way there, we are uneasy. Mel, Rebecca, Linda and Katie, who were there yesterday, have already warned us that these children are going to keep us on our toes.
When our taxi arrives at the home, we are asked to sign in and given Volunteer Passes. Already, we can tell things are much more organized than they are over at African Child in Need. We get a brief tour of the facility and are surprised to find that it is large, bright and generally quite clean. There's a sleeping area filled with cribs, several playrooms full of toys, a feeding area, a giant laundry area, an outdoor playground, a clean up area and lots of storage. By the entrance is a craft shop - where handicrafts are sold and proceeds from sales support the home. Behind the home is a guesthouse for volunteers, who can stay for the equivalent of about ten dollars a night.
Barbara, the home's administrator and general manager, gives us a bit of history. The home was started back in 1929 by a Christian missionary, and has been growing ever since. Currently they have 48 children staying there - many come to the home because they are found abandoned in garbage heaps, pit latrines, ditches, taxi parks or are left by the side of the road. Barbara tells us the adoption rate is about 60%; those children that are not adopted from the home, are moved into foster homes or transferred to an orphanage for older children upon their third birthday. There, they get will gain access to primary school. We look at some heartbreaking before and after photos of some of the current residents, and prepare ourselves to interact with them first hand.
Walking into the infant playroom, we are accosted by babies. Every single child reaches out their arms and clutches onto our legs. No words can describe it. We are told not to pick up the babies for two reasons: because obviously not every child can be carried at once (not enough volunteers), and because once a child is put down, they cry and cry and cry to be picked up again. Which causes the other babies to cry, which... well, results in total pandemonium. It's so hard not to pick them up though, once we are in that room with them.
Something interesting: I'm shocked at the maternal instinct I feel. Full on shocked! I mean, for some reason I feel more comfortable with these babies than I do with some of my tripmates. All my inhibitions go out the window and I'm on the floor, goo-goo gah-gah' ing with these kids. I have three children leaning against me and a forth toddling over with something in his hands to show me. I feel totally comfortable. One hand reaches out to rescue a young girl who is about to trip, while the other gives a toy to a child who is desparately trying to reach it.
One child, Fridah, is new: this is only her third day here. She is tiny, extremely malnourished, HIV positive and very anti-social. She doesn't want anything to do with toys, and she pushes me away violently when I offer her a rattle, scrunching up her face up, pouting and crying. When left alone, she is quiet, but she doesn't look happy. She doesn't play; she just watches. If you even look at her, tears and screaming are likely. About fifteen minutes in, though, something amazing happens...Fridah finally starts to warm up to me. I put a toy, a plastic ring, around my wrist like a bracelet and I offer one to her. She looks at me. I figure she's about to start up again with her wailing. She takes it! She puts it on her own wrist! She looks up at me for approval, and she even offers a little smile! Some staff members are watching us, and I hear them say how great it is to see Fridah interacting with toys and with people, how wonderful it is to see her happy. And as I'm marvelling at my awesome powers of goodness with babies, I'm told I'm needed in the toddler's room. (Heh. This is not about me. This is about the children. Duh.)
The toddlers' room is utter madness. Poor Eric is the only volunteer in there, and when I walk in, he's trying to wrangle about twenty toddlers. Cute as buttons, these kids are constantly defying instructions, acting out for attention, clinging to anyone who walks by. It's tough work, but we are reinforcing good lessons. Be patient. Don't grab. Say thank you. Don't throw things. Say sorry if you hurt someone. We have snack time and teethbrushing time. We sings songs, and go outside to the playground where we push kids on swings and catch them at the bottom of the slide. I keep telling one little boy, who is wearing a t-shirt that says "Little Terror" on it, not to eat dirt. Eventually he stops, but then he decides that what's way better than eating dirt is throwing it at people! Little Terror, indeed! I have total respect for the teacher, an extremely patient and even tempered lady named Harriet, who has the kids completely under her spell. Sure, they misbehave, but when they do, she has them back in line in moments. The children worship her.
We feed the kids lunch, which itself is a huge production. I myself am responsible for feeding five kids (at once!) and it's nearly impossible. Food is everywhere; every single child needs to be changed into clean clothes at the end of it. This is par for the course. Thankfully, next on the agenda for the babies is nap time. Covered in spit-up, dirt, food, snot, urine and whatever other grossness myself, I already have a soft spot for these little ones. Olivia, Fridah, Elijah, Dennis, Moses, Hope, Oscar, Eric, Robert, Godfrey - and all the rest of the abandoned babies who live here. I can't wait to come back and get to know them each a little better.
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