I am so glad it is the cool season here right now! With temperatures still high and humidity
that threatens to drown out a population, the breeze feels good and it is
possible to stand outside for five whole minutes before the heat starts getting
to me. Having been here during the hot
season, I know I have come at the perfect time and am grateful.
Kids Day at the Mikindani Clinic yesterday. Speeches, games, lunch, snacks, poetry
reciting, plays, singing, and gifts make up this fun day for the kids. This is a time for HIV+ children to be
together without the fear of stigma or rejection. These kids, ranging from toddlers to 19 year
olds, have known each other for long years and are comfortable with each other,
teasing and laughing the day away. I am
astounded to see some of my kids…how they’ve grown! Christopher is almost a man, as is Benson and
Omondi. Abraham is now six years old – a little man who shakes my hand and
smiles shyly. Beverlyne, Lydia, Defence
and the other girls are looking and doing great. I just can’t believe that those who were
babies or young when I started here are now six and seven, thirteen and
eighteen. Amazing to see them well.
I jump in a sack race against staff and guardians and forget
that I am a mom, a director, an adult. I
laugh get ready for the spoon and potato races.
Then, there’s the relays.
Finally, I am moved from contestant to giver of prizes to winners. Fun, fun, fun time.
I miss those who are no longer here, whether because they had
to find another home due to a guardian’s death or because they had to move to
an orphanage. I am grateful that not one
of my kiddos has been removed from the program due to death. Even though I keep tabs on them throughout
the year, I am never sure until I come and see them…seeing them makes me
believe once again that what we do is good and right.
Seeing them, along with the string of new, young ones added
to the programs also shakes me to reality of the sheer volume of work we must
keep doing in order to keep this next generation doing well.
I have had tough meetings this time around. I’ve discussed reporting in Congo and new
needs which we can’t handle at this time, but which will save lives and which
will make children self-sufficient. How
can I refuse? But, how can I agree? In Kenya I’ve been hearing about all the
programs left as gaping holes due to cuts in budgets due to many reasons –
reduction of grant money from US government, the death of a beloved worker
whose organization is moving on now that he has moved on to glory and higher
costs in-country due to inflation, higher food costs, and a poor economy. We are dreaming today, writing a grant, doing
some thinking about a self-sustainable plan, visiting gardens meant to help
children today and the clinics tomorrow, as well.
I so wish that for once, we had an influx of funds that
would remove the terrible stress of this calling. We need more Kilimanjaro climbers, more 5k
organizers (Betsy, I hear your 5k was PHENOMENAL!!!), more churches,
businesses, schools, and individuals to see that HIV/AIDS will not go away on
its own, but that we need to work together for these little ones who didn’t in
any way ask for what they’ve been given.
I am often asked at home how I am doing, how I feel with
this work I do. Today, I’d answer that I
am heart- broken, sad and frustrated and that I am searching, reaching, feeling
blindly for faith and hope. My throat is
choking as I write and my eyes sting. Yesterday was hopeful, seeing happy
children. Today is scary and heavy, very
heavy, meeting about needs and gaps and starvation for some.
