It's a Staggering Thing

It’s gotten to that point where enough time has gone by that I’ve been procrastinating and it’s hard to know where to start. I’m doing well. I continue to learn, to laugh, to struggle with my sinful nature, to grow, to deal…but generally speaking, things just continue to get better.

Nam returned home shortly after my last post and is doing well, but the illness situation in the house got a whole lot worse before it got any better. Last weekend, all the volunteers and Emily W came down with the stomach bug that I had had the previous weekend and most of them got it way worse than I did. On top of that, we were dealing with malaria, mumps, pneumonia and typhoid and up until a couple days ago, I was still having to administer Tylenol to many of the kids but it seems that maybe, just maybe, we are done with all these fevers. By the end of it, I was pretty much gauging on touch as none of the thermometers we had were giving accurate readings anymore. Honestly, the day that I went out (as usual) to take all the kids temperatures (with the fancy new thermometer that Renee gave us) and they all fell within the normal range, I could have cried with relief. Once Zak is on the mend, it seems there might be some normality returning to this house.

A couple weeks ago, both Emily’s went to Kampala to pick up a new addition to the Ekisa family from a place there that I can’t really talk about because it could come back to bite us. His name is Paul, he has CP and I think he’s about 9. He had spent, I believe, at least 4 years there and the conditions were less than sufficient. He was extremely malnourished and had typhoid when we got him but his face is filling out and he’s getting a little belly; the rest of him will follow suit over time. I’ll never forget the first time I saw him. It was about 9pm, the power was out and I was just getting back from an afternoon shift at Al-shafa. He was on the couch with George, surrounded by Emily W, a couple other volunteers and the glow from the candlelight. He was wrapped in a blanket having just been smothered in cream to sooth his cracked and dry skin and was drinking milk slowly from a cup all the while being spoken to in soft voices about how beautiful he was and how loved he was. I went to him and said hello and he reached out his hand, greeting me with the most beautiful smile. Moments like that will never cease to bring me to tears. The knowledge of where he came from and where he is now…being loved, nurtured and cared for…the degree to which Ekisa has changed his life…it’s a staggering thing.

Paulie,a couple days after we got him.

There have been other moments in the last week; Walter walking by behind me as I sat sorting clothing donations and stopping to lean down and kiss my cheek…just because. In addition to that, I witnessed a tender moment between mother and daughter that might have never happened had not a grandmother chosen to bring her little granddaughter to us. This little girl’s jaja showed up at our gate about a month ago carrying this little skin and bones bundle named Mercy. She had CP and had been left in the care of her grandmother due to her mother’s disinterest, but the grandmother was struggling to care for her…a fact that was very evident due to how malnourished she was. The Emily’s agreed to take her in temporarily to help nurse her back to health under one condition…that her mother come to stay to be the one to care for her under the guidance and supervision of Emily and the mommas as Mercy would have to be fed every 2 hours initially to get her weight up. So a day or 2 later, mom showed up to relieve the jaja and took up residence with Mercy in one of the buildings out back. This was the first time she had seen her daughter since last December and was non-to-happy to have been pushed into this scenario. In the beginning, she made this quite clear by her mood and attitude towards Mercy and the mommas, mostly keeping to herself, but over time, her pretence began to melt away and joy began to take its place. She began smiling, laughing, socializing with the mommas, helping with laundry even though she was not required to do so and, most importantly, bonding with her daughter. The moment that encapsulated this, the moment I will never forget, happened just a couple days before she left us to go home with Mercy; she was on the porch sitting amongst the kids and the mommas seemingly in her own world as she cuddled Mercy, kissing her little head; clearly in love with her daughter…another staggering thing.       

Yesterday, in itself, was a day to remember: Halloween. I had an early start, getting up at 7:15 to go to market with Emily H, as we do most Mondays, to stock up on matoke, beans, rice, milk, veggies and anything else that’s needed for the week ahead. By the end of these shops, there is usually just enough room for me to squeeze into the passenger seat as this isn’t your average trip to the supermarket. We usually get 4 or 5 bunches of matoke (like a banana but with a more potato-like flavor), each about the size of a 6 year old child and weighing about 20-30 pounds, a 100lb sack of potatoes, the same sacks full of rice and beans, at least 3 boxes of milk and assorted veggies and supplies stuck in the foot wells, including my own. This particular morning, we made a stop at Ozzie’s for breakfast (my favorite; French toast with cinnamon sugar and syrup, a side of scrambled eggs and a cup of tea) before carrying on to our final stop before home: a chicken vendor. You can buy frozen chicken from the grocery store, but it is not the cheapest or the freshest option. No, we were doing things the Ugandan way. Emily pulled over, agreed to a price of 17,000 shillings per and 5 live chickens were tied together by their feet and thrown into the boot with all the matoke. One of the funniest things to date was the drive home and how Emily would duck her head every time we would go over a speed bump and the chickens would start flapping around in the back. Another one of those wonderful, never-did-I-think-I-would, moments.

As soon as we got home, we began preparations for our Halloween party. We bought a couple green pumpkins which we painted orange to make things feel a little more like home but bought 10 little watermelons to carve as the squash was much too difficult to cut through. Myself and a few other volunteers made a huge batch of sugar cookies and different colors of icing for decorating, we made a “Happy Halloween” garland and cut out construction paper pumpkins and bats for coloring. After the kids woke up from their naps, we got them all dressed up in costumes, painted their faces with orange paint and cycled them through the stations - pumpkin carving, cookie decorating and coloring – while Michael Jackson played from the iPod stereo. They had an absolute blast, but I think the highlight came just after when we all went outside for a huge dance party which was somewhat overshadowed by the rather entertaining game of catch the chickens that the kids decided to play. They tormented the poor creatures, I’m not going to lie, but the sight of Walter picking them up by the tail and chasing after the couple volunteers who were less-then eager to be close to them, was far too hilarious to care. After dinner and bath time, we each took a few kids and went around to different rooms throughout the house and had them knock, say “Trick or treat!” (if they were able) and receive a little bit of candy from whomever we had stationed behind the door. Halloween is completely unknown here, so the whole experience was a first for all of our kids and I am absolutely certain that we did it justice. Explaining the holiday to the mommas, though, was somewhat of a struggle…I have just resolved myself to the fact that they all think that white people are mulalu’s (crazy people). 

Walter, getting his face painted

Jane

Jason

Zeke

Paul

Walter, chasing Jessica with a chicken

I had hoped to be part of the slaughter and preparation of the chickens the next morning, but didn't make it out in time. I did take a moment to document this, though…    

Now, a couple randoms: first, our dog, Pippen; my sister’s been bugging me for a photo. Second, last week, in the midst of all the sickness, we were down a few mommas so George and I spent the morning helping with laundry. There is a staggering amount of washing to do every day and I admit to enjoying this little change of pace quite a bit.

George, wringing things out by hand