Yesterday I went with Pastor Tom to check out an orphanage he is thinking of trying to get his parish in MA to sponsor. He wanted a few of us to come with and check it out even though he's been there several times to get our impressions of how it is run.
This was one well thought out orphanage. An Anglican priest has had it built on his own land with the little money he has coming in in donations every once in a while. He has no consistant source of funding. They grow all of their own food and keep animals for milk, eggs, and meat. The buildings (though made of mud like everything else here) were immaculate, and you could just tell that the kids were loved. At other orphanages, the children are so starved for attention, for food, for anything more than the little they are getting out of life, that they just have this hungry, desperate look in their eyes. These kids were calm as can be and seemed quite content for having lost both parents and living hard lives before coming there. There were only 36 children, which is a small enough number to spread out the love of the caretakers and build a sense of community amongst the children rather than the cut throat competition for attention that is a hallmark of most institutions. It was just a nice nice place. I hope that they will be able to get some overseas partnerships that will allow them to expand their work.
Now, I hate it when people see all of the poor African children running around and comment that "Oh, I would just love to take them all home!" like they are cute little kitties and puppies that you see through the glass at the mall. These are human lives, and those words always hit me as perverse.
Yesterday at the orphanage was the first time I have felt that way, about actually wanting to take some home.
Right when we got there they brought in an eight year old girl with massive scars all over her head and face. The right side of her body was moving slowly and in the uncooridinated fashion of someone who has some paralysis and probably a head injury. I sat there holding her two year old brother while we heard the story of what had happened to them.
The childrens' uncle was very jealous of their little piece of land that they were farming on and wanted it for himself. So he went over to their home with a machete with plans to take out the entire family, Rwandan genocide style. He almost succeeded, except for little brother who was hidden under a bed and big sister who he thought was dead but somehow managed to pull through. Mother, father, nine-month old brother, and five year old sister were all hacked to death, and the eight year old watched it all happen.
They think that she is still fully functional mentally and they have her doing physical therapy to improve her motor functioning. The priest has her staying at his own home with his children. Little brother wouldn't go near her for a long time - he was absolutely terrified of her, but now you can hardly pry him from her side. From my observation she is still very much in shock, and just randomly started crying for no apparent reason at a few points throughout the day. Once, someone went and sat her in a car so she could have some space, and little brother came a running and tried with all of his little two-year-old might to get the door of the land rover open because he thought she was leaving. I'd take them in a heartbeat and not because they are cute and cuddly. They need parents and a home a whole lot of security and stability to help them overcome what they have had to live through.
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