Trip to Africa Continued

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February 7

Finally, we are on the road to Hope for Children Center Orphanage. We made a stop at the orphanage, but thankfully the orphans were in class. We walked through the courtyard and they called “goodbye, sisters” as the teachers waved at us. I notice some of the orphans we sent away have gathered at the gate again. I would like to tell them that they are home, but I can’t. We bid the volunteers farewell, load up once more, and head down the road. We visit the email bureau and Moses does some shopping, We had a later start than anticipated as he went to the hospital to visit an orphan who is going to have a surgery on a deformed hand. Steve has agreed to pay the costs. After lunch, we head out. It seems a luxury to only have four of us in the car (our numerous luggage traveled ahead of us in a hired car) and the afternoon passes quickly in conversation. This was the only trip before my taxi ride back to Nairobi that did not include a flat tire!!

After we turned off of the main road, the bush seemed to run right up to the gravel. The wash-outs were frightening, and we often leaned to one side, as Moses went off the road at what seemed like a 90 degree angle, to help balance the car. I was sure we were going to become one of the “road death” statistics. After several miles, I spotted a white shirt in the headlights. It turned out to be Evans Zuk, and he had been sent to make sure we did not miss our turnoff. Several miles later, we pulled through the gates at Hope for Children Center Orphanage. It was pitch black, with no indication of the 260 orphans. I wondered where they were hiding. As soon as we pulled around the school building, I got my answer, as we were awash in a sea of children, hugging, kissing, greeting, and singing. We could not even walk as they pressed into us. I could not hold back my tears as I finally saw the beautiful faces of “my” children after so many years. Pastor Maurice and Edith rescued us, and all the orphans were sent to welcome us more formally in the chapel/dining hall. In a kerosene lit room, we were introduced and allowed to say a few words to the assembled children. I could barely make out their little faces in the light, but I could tell they were beautiful. No matter how hard I tried, I could not see my boys, Dickens and Moses, amongst them.

After the introductions, we were treated to the most wonderful music one could ever imagine. All Kenyans must have a natural musical talent. Esther and I, and even Steve, were fighting back the tears of joy we felt. They sang for nearly an hour, and although I was hoping to have time with the orphans before we were taken to Maurice and Edith’s quarters, it was not in the plan. Explaining that the sisters were tired (most likely due to our advanced ages), we were whisked away for the night. After freshening up, we were treated to trays heaped full of food. The food here was very different from that at Glory Children's Center Orphanage. Of course, there was the ever-present chunk of Ugali, which was as big as a Sarah Lee coconut cake (and that’s where the resemblance ended!), greens, beans, maize, rice, eggs (scrambled with tomatoes or hard boiled in a tomato sauce), sliced tomatoes, cucumbers, bell peppers, and red onions, and the most delicious fruit. Trays of pineapple, passion fruit, papaya, avocadoes (huge ones which sold for 2 shillings each) and skinny bananas were served at all three meals. I could not get enough of this fruit, and ate it to the point of getting sores in my mouth. Beverages are only served with breakfast, so I was glad to have my canteen of bottled water at all times. We chatted until midnight, and planned to get up early the next morning to tour the campus and then walk the distance to Good Samaritan Lwanda Children's Home Orphanage, as the van was laid up with …what else... a flat tire! Esther and I slept in separate beds for the first few nights, accompanied in our room by Edith and her two youngest sons. We fell into bed after midnight, only to be awakened around 4 a.m. as fires were built to cook breakfast porridge for the orphans who got up around 5.

February 8

I should have known by now that there is nothing that goes according to plan here. As we were finishing our breakfast of chai (in which I dipped my Maxwell house coffee bags), bread, jam and fruit, Maurice told us there was something he wanted us to see. We followed him across the campus (which is beautiful), to the gate, where slightly over 60 orphans stood or sat in rags, waiting to see if they could come in. The gate keeper had been busy taking each name and recording circumstances. When they saw Esther, Steve and me, I am sure they were very excited, thinking just our presence changed their outcome. These orphans all had distended bellies, and the rags they wore were so dirty and in such bad shape, I could not even imagine why they bothered. Esther and I had the same immediate reaction as we watched tiny girls struggling to hold onto their little siblings, while clutching their dresses around them to hide their bareness. We immediately went into action, taking the entire group inside the compound to the yard outside Maurice’s home. Working with 5 or 6 at a time, we pulled clothing that had been brought for our volunteer’s children and other donated items from our boxes, removing the rags from the orphans and dressing them in smart new outfits. The transformation was astounding, and the pride that showed of their faces was thrilling. After two hours, we had exhausted all of our available clothing, but each orphan had received at least one new item. They were given breakfast and then sent on their way.

Pastor Maurice had finally summoned my boys, and at last I got to meet them. Dickens was very shy and quiet, but Moses was immediately my best buddy, escort and body guard. They stayed and ate lunch with me, and then Dickens returned to class. Some of the older children (secondary students), joined us for the walk to Good Samaritan Lwanda Children's Home Orphanage. Our plan was to photograph, interview, and access the needs at this small orphanage, and try to complete before nightfall. It was very hot, but the walk went well. All along the route, we passed walkers who stopped and visited with us. They were very curious about a Musungu in their neighborhood. Many who dwelled in the small shacks along the road came out and invited us in for a visit. We thanked them but explained we had to complete our journey before nightfall, and continued on. I am sure they would have given us their last bit of food just to have us cross their threshold. It made me sad to think that just because our skin was white, we were special.

Moses and I chatted the whole way, and by the time we reached Good Samaritan Lawanda Children's Home Orphanage, I was in love with this distant son. He held my elbow when we walked along uneven ground, with out so much as a word. His gentle demeanor had me contemplating what I could do to take him home with me. He called me “mum” right from the start, and delighted in telling folks that I was his momma.

The children were waiting in the yard and started shouting and singing as soon as they saw us. Teresa is an angel. She looks like a very young woman, but Pastor Maurice assured us she is approaching 50. She is obviously in love with each of her God-given children, clucking about them like a mother hen. Her volunteers Monica and Samson are sweet and gentle. Monica has a toddler baby, and spends each day helping with any chores necessary, for no pay. Samson fetches water and fire wood, and helps wherever needed.

We listened to the orphans sing, but I could not stop glancing around this compound. It is so much poorer than our other orphanages, and my mind was spinning with a “needs” list. The two dormitories are made of mud, but they do have tin roofs. The orphans don’t all have beds, and some sleep on bamboo mats (Maurice assured me they are very comfortable and exactly what he slept on growing up…good for bed wetters, too.) It was dark and damp in both dorms, and part of the lower foundations had been washed away by heavy rains. I was so thankful that we have the ability to replace these structures before they fall down. The orphans did have their few belongings put away, and those who got gifts were quick to take them into their dorms and store them. We had fun interviewing them, but the years at Migori have taken a toll on their English. The older orphans who accompanied us translated. There is only one child in Forms at this orphanage, all the rest are much younger. After new photos and writing letters, we visited with them, holding them and making mental notes of their physical needs. They busied themselves playing with their balloons. They hit them high into the air, kicked them, and batted them around until they finally broke, after which everyone would laugh. When we left, many were still clutching small pieces of latex from this prized possession. They loved their little furries, the toy cars and yarn dolls. Such a little token, and so appreciated. I thought of Christmas at my home, and wondered about many things.

We were worried that we wouldn’t make it home by dark, when suddenly Samwell appeared to give us the good news that the van was waiting for us out on the road, having had the necessary repairs. I was sort of sad about not greeting my friends along the way, but knew we would in darkness if I walked. I was not that brave!

Dickens was waiting for me when we got back. The rest of the evening was spent visiting with the staff, the orphans, and listening to singing. My boys took me on a tour of the school, which is beautiful. We looked at the wells, the girls and boys dorms, and the food storage building. I met the donkeys, sheep, kitties, chickens and finally the puppy that roam the compound. Try as I might, I could never make friends with that puppy. He let the orphans drag him all over the place, but even a glimpse of me sent him howling and running. I guess I was his first Musungu!

I soon learned the secret of getting rid of the huge portions of food that were being served to me. My boys sat on either side of me with spoon in hand, and helped me clean my tray. I often thought of what Brian said about even the smallest orphan being able to eat more than he could. These kids would eat until they exploded if you didn’t stop them. I understand the importance of Ugali. I am sure it swells in the stomach and fills up these little guys.

February 9

I just visited Lake Victoria after a long day of changing plans. The Friday plan was to go to Homa Bay for shopping and email. As usual, the plan was changed by circumstance. We started out early this morning with the intent of arriving here by noon, it is now 5 p.m. I can't get used to the way Africans do things. On the way here, the wheel fell off our van and went rolling into the bush. It is good we were not traveling any faster. So, we had to walk to the nearest village and get someone to come down and fix it. We sat there and had a cold drink as we were so hot. It has to be near 100 today. When we found it was going to take so long to fix, we went to the market to buy more clothing for the orphans at the gates. You cannot imagine. Yesterday we clothed and fed 55, and this morning there were way over 100, even more ragged than the others. A widow with five small children came, and the baby had malaria. They were dressed in rags so bad. We brought them into the house and gave them a meal and new clothing, and some medicine and cereal for the baby. Soon he was happy and smiling at us. The mother was so sweet and of course, could not speak English.

 We bought 200 dollars worth of used clothing at the market to pass out tomorrow. It will not be nearly enough. We also took in a boy who is part white. His father was an American who came here and had sex with a young girl. She had aids, and he has since died. The little boy has slept at the gates , everyone shuns him because he is part Musungu. He is somewhat of a celebrity in the dorm as the boys have supplied him with clothing and other needed items. It is such fun to see him be so popular with our orphans who don’t seem phased by the difference in his appearance. They all rally to be his friends, holding his hand and showing him around. I am so proud of them.

I was shocked when I saw Homa Bay. For some reason, I expected it to be more like an American city, and I am discovering that really, only Nairobi is anything like our country. Even this larger city is just a collection of shacks. There is only one building that I have seen not constructed of tin, and it’s this email bureau. It has a café in it and a few other offices. I ate lunch at the café with our son Moses and he helped guide me through the menu, which contained cow’s stomach, liver and other tasty entrees. I finally settled on a tomato sandwich, only to be informed there was no bread. So, it’s chips again.

February 10 Sabbath

We spent hours last night sorting through clothing in anticipation of the arrival of more orphans at the gates. It has been decided that church will take place in the afternoon instead of the morning, so the orphans don’t have to wait in the hot sun. They began lining up before daybreak, and after a quick breakfast, we began to bring them in, a few at a time. Their names are being written down as they file in. I think that it is almost cruel to take these names down, as it gives the orphans the hope that they are being considered for admission. They are happy with their new clothes, and leave smiling. As the hours wear on, it becomes apparent that we are woefully short of clothing, so we start replacing only the most ragged. The heat in Maurice and Edith’s bedroom is overwhelming and I feel half nauseated all morning, partly from heat, but mainly from grief that these orphans live in such horrible conditions. I know that soon their new clothes will be like the old ones, and we won’t be there to replace them. I think of my own closet at home, and wish I could empty it.

One note here, even though these orphans are very dirty, they do not smell bad. It is very easy for me to hold and kiss them, and they respond with huge smiles over any little attention. It is a strange thing to me about this country, as I mentioned in emails home. Everything smells the same here, neither good or bad, except of course for the fish market, which is decidedly bad! The air, the ground, the food, the people all have the same aura.

By noon, we have finished . The children have already gathered for church, and many from the community have walked to join our worship. Some of the boys have taken over the service, and Elisair, who will become Steve’s son before we leave, gives a good sermon, along with scripture. The service is filled with beautiful music, and we are given a musical gift by the folks who have walked to Hope for Children Center Orphanage to join the services. It seems everyone in Kenya has a beautiful voice. Since the orphans are hungry, the service is cut to about an hour, after which we (the visitors) line up outside to be greeted by all who are in attendance. After visiting, the guests leave the compound, and the orphans gather for their lunch. My boys walk back to the house with me and we eat together. The afternoon is spent in leisure time, and I walk to the river with Moses after Dickens decides to go play with his pals. Towards nightfall, I am to watch the older boys play soccer. They have tired of waiting for me, so I organize running races with the younger orphans instead. They want to have the “battle of the sexes”, boy against girl. It kills me to see them take their shoes off and run full speed barefoot across the pebbles and stones. They fly like the wind, each side cheering as if it were the Olympics. These kids are great runners. I have a wonderful time teasing them, and soon it is so dark one cannot see. Back at the house, some of the older students have gathered to ask us questions and discuss items of interest, including politics, women’s roles in Kenyan and American society, etc. This evening’s forum is a continuation of Friday night’s conversations, and the hours pass quickly. Around 9 our supper trays are brought, and the students excuse themselves to have their own dinner and then join in the chapel for choir practice. Steve, Esther and I sneak over to listen to them and as usual, are immediately set upon by small children wanting to sit on us or near us.

February 11

Today is the day our Administrators are to arrive for the week. Esther and I have planned to interview orphans all day, but of course, we start much later than we had hoped. Several of the older orphans are scheduled to help with crafts, interpreting, and bringing the orphans in to us in groups. Of course, as soon as word gets out that a sweet and some gifts are the reward for talking to us, the courtyard is filled with those waiting. Steve has chosen the room next to the teacher’s lounge in which to take photos. As he finishes each one, they join either Esther or me, with Edith and Evans helping the younger ones in communication. After we talk with them, they are sent to a table manned by other teenagers, who help them either with letter-writing or picture drawing. We take a break about 3 for a short lunch, then return to work with the orphans until it is getting so dark we can no longer see. In all, we process over 170 of the orphans. It is so much fun to have a little individual time with each. They are very serious about this process, extending their tiny hands for a greeting and carefully considering the answer to the questions we ask them. My heart breaks as I listen to their dreams for the future. I find myself wondering what will happen to the goals they hold; doctors, lawyers, policemen and women. One small boy declares with confidence that he is going to be the prime-minister. He is only about 8 years old! I am fearful that most will struggle their whole lives just to survive. I wish I could bring them all back to America, where their dreams would have a better chance of coming true. I worry that no matter how smart they are, or how hard they work, they are destined to failure. I pray I am wrong.

When asked the favorite game, most orphans answer “football”. I soon realize that after interviewing well over 300 orphans so far, not one single little girl has said she likes to play house, and none have answered that they want to be a “mommy” when they grow up. I asked one of the older girls if the small ones ever play house, and had to describe it to her as it is played by little girls in America. She had no concept of it, and had never played it. It made me sad to think that these little girls have no awareness of family life as we know it, and most do not remember a mother tending to them.

By the time we get back to the house, our first guests from Uganda are there. Alfred Mukhooli, his wife and little baby Dorcas are an energetic and welcome addition to the household. Soon after, we get word from Musungu that he is close by. He and Oliver arrive with their daughter Vella, and Moses Kissibo, the man we are considering to be our administrative secretary. The evening is spent getting acquainted with the new friends. The wives are beautiful, tiny and quiet. They speak very little English, and are busy tending to their girls much of the time. We learned that Vella has just been removed from an IV in the hospital and is suffering from Malaria. Sleeping in the same house with her does make us a bit uneasy in case a hungry mosquito decides to feed on her first before biting one of us. I am thankful for my medication, and worry about Esther, who has decided to use only Neem.

The plan for Monday has changed. Originally we were to have the first of our meetings that day, but we need to go buy clothing for the orphans at the gates instead., partly because Prisca and Moses have not yet arrived and efforts to contact them have failed. I am worried about them, but realize it’s another case of African time, most likely.

When we go to bed, I start thinking about leaving. In some ways I am excited to get back home, but leaving the children will be painful.

February 12

Once again, our early departure time turns into late morning. Dickens and Moses are up and dressed, ready to go since daybreak. They do not seem frustrated with the waiting, I am sure it is part of their lifestyle. They don’t even seem to understand why I am bothered by it. Steve has decided to take his new little friend Moses along and outfit him. We are going to Kisii, and Esther has plans to spend the day at the E-mail bureau. I have made a decision early on that I will not spend any more time than necessary at this place, as my time in Africa is running out and I have better places to spend it than in front of a computer. She has to run off material for the meetings this week, so has to haul her printer along as well. I am glad I copied all of my data before I left.

I was nervous that we would not be able to get bales since we have left so late. About half way to Kisii, we have our usual flat tire. It is really hot this day, and we cannot find a shady spot. Esther and I spend the time visiting with the folks that stop to greet along their way to wherever it is they always seem to be going. One young man tells us he is an orphan who has finished primary school, but has no way to attend high school. He is very handsome and personable, and has lots of questions about America. When Esther asked him what he does to pass the time, he answered “nothing”. We later find out that he does grow some crops. He has a bicycle, too. We suggested he put a passenger’s seat on it and start his own business of transport that we see so often. It is amazing to see these skinny little men riding up hills with people and all sorts of cargo in such an effortless manner. Dickens and Moses Ochieng, our little half-Asian boy, have become fast friends. Dickens is so sweet and gentle with him. My Moses does not leave my side, except to help push when the tire is back on and we are ready to go.

We stopped first at the market, and were able to buy three nice bales of clothing. From there, it was decided that we needed to have lunch, as it was nearly 2 p.m. We met Prisca, Moses and Laquita at the restaurant, a rather nice one by Kenyan standards. We sat outside on the second floor, and there was good shade with a breeze. I ordered curried vegetables, and my boys had the usual chips and soda. They were really thirsty and hungry, eating half my vegetables along with their food. They seemed reluctant to order a second drink, as if they were worried about me spending too much money. They are so sweet. Moses has learned to use my camera and is snapping photos. He has become the “keeper of the camera” whenever we are together.

Lunch finished, we bid good-bye to Nyamora’s and Laquita as they head on to visit the high school students and then to Hope for Children Center Orphanage. The new orphanage is right on the way, outside Kisii. They need to drop off some food supplies since they will not be back in the area for a week. It is decided that Steve will take all three boys back to the market for them to select what I will buy when I join them in an hour or so. I asked to be picked up by 3:30 so we can shop. I have a notebook full of items to buy for orphans with money from their sponsors, in addition to my own boys. Imagine how frustrated I became when no one appeared until nearly five. Steve and my boys had walked clear back from the market.  The van was still sitting in the parking lot, and nearby was the Nyamora’s car, never having left. I had no idea where Moses and Maurice were, and neither did Prisca or Edith. I decided to walk back to the market with my sons, and Steve, and they promised they would pick us up at a station on the circle, since the market closed at 6. We practically ran, but by the time we arrived, the sellers were already starting to close up for the day. I could have cried. We did manage to get most of the things on the list for my boys, with a final purchase of sunglasses for each of them.  We had to walk all the way back to the parking lot, where both vehicles were still sitting. I went into an actual store and bought three soccer balls for the orphans, and some bottled water. I knew we were going to have to drive back in the dark again. I found out later that we did not have a spare, and the lug nuts were stripped in our tire. So we drove home at a snail’s pace with one of the boys, Kennedy, hanging his head out the window and watching the tire with a flashlight. When Nyamora’s realized how far behind we were, they came back and drove along side the car, watching the tire. I was hot, tired and dirt streaked from the walk to the market, during which a windstorm had blown up.

Both my boys fell asleep on my shoulders, and even though the ride was bumpy and my back was killing me, I didn’t move for fear of disturbing them. I felt like their momma, and it was good. Little Dickens was holding a fold of my skirt between two fingers, gently stroking it. I thought my heart would burst with love for them. I was ashamed of being so frustrated in a lifestyle that was so difficult just because it altered my schedule. How selfish I have become. I promise silently I will work on it, but I know that when I return to America, my patience will be as thin as ever.

It was nearly midnight when we finally got home. My sleepy boys went right to their dorms after escorting me to the house. I was worried that they did not have supper, but Maurice told me the cook would have saved them food knowing they were out with us.  We sorted through the clothing, picking some nicer things for Good Samaritan Lwanda Children's Home Orphanage as well as our girls at Hope for Children Center Orphanage, and putting things into piles according to size before turning in. I wanted to cry when the orphans were singing at 4 a.m. the next morning!

February 13

Laquita is put in charge of the “dressing” project, which is to be conducted while we start our meetings. There is still sorting to be done, and we all work at it before breakfast. Moses joins me for breakfast, as has become our pattern.  I know he will miss his morning jam and bread, fruit and chai after momma leaves. He is in charge of the boys and the camera. Steve has decided not to attend the first meeting, hanging out with the orphans at the gates instead. We got started about two hours late, typical for our days. I don’t waste a minute of this precious time, especially day light. It is dark at 6 p.m., and I can’t read anything after that time. So, I try to work on the letters and other records whenever I have a spare moment. I have been trying to figure out how much money we each owe, but every time I get started on it, someone interrupts me. I am especially anxious to make sure that each orphan who has a special gift from his/her sponsor receives it, and I know I only have one more shopping day to achieve the goal.

Actually, the first meeting went very well once started, and we finished up before 3, even with a lunch break. It is funny to have the “Fred’s” softly translating everything for their wives. Little Dorcas is whisked away by some of the older girls, and I learn later she has spent her time being the center of attention in the girl’s dorm. If I had known, I would have been a nervous wreck as the well is so close by.

As soon as we finish, we head over to the dining hall to finish interviewing the orphans who were not included on Sunday. Someone has entered our room and finished off the sweets. We find wrappers everywhere, and think that our little friends James, Austin and Francis have become very popular for a reason. I promise the orphans that we will have sweets for all on Friday after I shop again. We worked with the children until it was so dark they could not see to write, even taking the project outside for the last few rays of light. All are finished except for the Secondary students, and we plan to do them on Wednesday.

Steve has summoned some of the orphans into the house after dinner for another round of discussions. They don’t stay long tonight, as Vella is not feeling well and the baby is starting to get cranky, too. We become double worried when Mukhooli tells us she has been being treated for Malaria as well. Maurice told them that the girls are not allowed to go to the dorms as he does not want our orphans exposed.

I watch Esther with the orphans, and I know why I love her. She has such a heart for them, and you can see the love flow from her to them.

February 14, Valentine’s day

This day is called “Woman’s Day” in Kenya. The little boys had purchased a card for Edith. It plays music when opened, and it is the hit of the house. I am thinking of my husband on this day, feeling guilty that I did not make some sort of arrangements with one of my kids to surprise him. I did manage to get cards ready for all the grandchildren before I left, and hope he remembered to mail them. I was very happy to find out that my dear sister Molly and brother Ray had sent him a very special candy heart, filled with the best chocolates. He saved two for me!

Our meetings are going well. We have a late start, but that’s okay. I walked down with Esther to watch the children working on the farm. There are two groups, one each of eight boys, and eight girls. They obviously like this hard work, and are clearing land for more crops. The hand tools they use are so different from American tools, but I have seen them in use all over Kenya. They are happy to see us, and proud to show us their skills in clearing. The soil is filled with rocks and weeds, so the work is hard. It is early, before eight, to beat the heat. I expect that after they finish, they will take a dip in the river! We spent some time talking with them and looking over the collard crop, then walk back to the house for breakfast. My Moses has joined me again, but leaves soon after breakfast. Esther and I are hoping to get the meetings started on schedule this morning, as we plan to interview the Secondary Students when finished. We were very happy to get the meetings over by 2:30, only to find out that Laquita is still preparing for her health class, which is being held in the dining hall.  She is another half hour in preparation, and we don’t get started on our interviews until nearly 4 p.m. Luckily, the children all speak English, which cuts the time considerably. By the time it is dark, we have finished!

I am beginning to organize for my departure in my spare time. Tonight I sort through my clothing, picking out my travel outfit so I can give the rest away. I have decided to give my best dress to Molline, who now calls herself Molly. She has done my laundry for me, and is always popping up to spend a few minutes. She is just a beautiful girl. I think if one would pick a face to reflect the beauty of Africa, hers would be it. And of course, I love that she is Molly! I had picked her up a pair of black canvas flats, so when she stops in, I’ll be ready. She does not disappoint, and shortly before we are ready to eat, she appears to pass the pitcher of warm water and basin. It is fun to surprise her, and she is thrilled. She put the dress on right over her other clothes (of course, she is much slimmer than I am) and she looks so proud. The shoes fit, too. I am happy to think of her wearing my dress like a hug from me. Vivian is with her, Madonna’s granddaughter.  I give her a skirt and t-shirt. It has elastic at the waist, and it too goes on right over her dress. She is much sturdier than Molly, and the fit is good. I don’t have shoes for her, but I do have a hug and kiss and a little bottle of lotion.

Tomorrow is our big day-long meeting. Steve is going to interview Maurice with questions we have all decided the other administrators need to hear. After a late supper, we sneak into the dining hall/chapel to gather some hugs and listen to the choir practice. This has become part of our nightly ritual, and I am sure the orphans would be very disappointed if we didn’t show. Esther tries to make me jealous by holding Beryl, but it doesn’t work. I have a lapful already, along with Dickens and Bril cuddling in from each side. Moses has a beautiful singing voice, and I am so proud of him. He keeps sneaking peeks at me to make sure I am watching only him. When the music is over, there is a nightly routine of shaking hands, hugging and kissing as many orphans as possible. I walked my boys back to the dormitory tonight, but then they are worried that momma might step in a hole, so they walk me back to the house. I wish I had my glasses as I cannot see so well with Pastor Maurice’s little solar lights. They are little more than a night light.

Dorcas is becoming more cranky, and I can tell she has a fever. I talked with Mukhooli about taking her to a clinic if she is not better in the morning, and he agrees.

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