People
may accuse me of writing with a jaundiced eye. In actual fact, I write with a
conjunctivitis eye, or pink eye as it is more commonly known. This is a very
common occurrence in this part of the world courtesy of dust, germs and the
unbounded giving nature of the children. Lori is also looking at the planet
through rose coloured eyeballs as opposed to the rose coloured glasses that she
usually wears. The positive and mitigating factors of this condition are:1) it
heals in a couple of days, 2) no long lasting effects, 3) anti-biotic eye drops
cost about $0.95 for the two of us. Drugs here are cheap, but apparently
smoking the wrong ones can cost you up to 15 years in jail for simple
possession. No care packages, please.
I truly
can't overstate the pleasure of working with these children. They form a
micro-community and, instead of our western perception that these children are
without family, in actuality, they themselves comprise one large family of
thirty siblings. Ages range from 3-15 with most in the 9-10 range, There are
leaders and followers, responsible children and those requiring constant
monitoring. Some children warm up to the volunteers other are a bit reticent.
Some like being hugged and held, other more standoffish. All told they are a
wonderful group who, due to the participation of volunteers from around the
world and a caring local staff, have a significantly better chance of moving
themselves forward in this world; not all will but enough to validate the time,
effort and energy.
So here's
what our day consists of. 6:00AM is wake up for the children. A few volunteers
show up to bathe them. Water is poured into pails, the little ones stand in
what in African is called a Shissel,
and we pour water over them and used a soapy rag to clean 'em up. Each child
has his own rag and dry towel. Following the rinse cycle, I lift the little
ones onto a bench where they are dried off by the elder orphans. This morning I
looked up to see four little brown skinned bums standing in a row in various
states of dryness. It was a National Geographic moment.
The kids
are dressed in their uniforms as there are two more days until Xmas break,
the shoes that you have seen in various
stages of disrepair marked To Be Shipped
to Africa in various malls and collection areas around town are the ones
ending up here on the childrens' footsies.
Breakfast
is preceded by a washing up of the pots and bowls. Volunteers do some of the
work accompanied by the local kids such as N'dia, Florence, or Jennifer, who
are a few of the more assertive clan members. Note that the three mentioned are
all girls. There is certainly a preponderance for matriarchal oriented
societies here and it shows itself from the get go. Breakfast is served hot and
is a form of oatmeal or other hot cereal. Yesterday was ground millet, corn and
peanuts mixed together. According to Lori, it tasted like matzoh meal infused
with peanut butter. A fairly accurate description and to be honest, I've eaten
worse. Breakfast is proceeded by a closed eyed rote version of Psalm 23 and
concludes with a vociferous Amen, the smaller kids get 2 little ladles full and
the amount graduates upward based on age and grade.
By the
time breakfast is done for the 30 residents, the outside students, some of whom
walk 3 miles each way, begin to filter in. I have verified their routes and
miraculously even in equatorial Africa, the paths taken by these children is
snow covered and uphill in both directions so the stories they eventually tell
their grandchildren about what they had to do to obtain an education will ring
true.
The old
hand wrung school bell goes off, the children enter their low, darkish, stuffy,
ill appointed classes with limited protein but much carbs in their system and
try to learn. Not easy. The teachers do their best, the volunteers are in
charge of a couple of classes and the ABC's and 123's are meted out. The range
of attention span within each class can go from rapt attention for a while
until a few of the less-motivated, bullying, ADD, limited IQ children start disrupting
and harassing. The cane is used on a regular basis for purposes of discipline.
While abhorrent in thought, within half a day I was ready to carry one
myself.Order is sometimes restored, sometimes not. One observes the classes and
holds out hope for the future. Two thoughts reverberate. To quote Frank Zappa
"The meek shall inherit - nothing at all." Secondly, within the
African reality, the class disturbers display all of the qualities required to
become a local dictator and will probably end up on top of the social heap. As
Sam, the main caner would say - The beat goes on.
Labels: Gonna Gota Ghana
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