Something About Babies

I spent New Years Eve this year a little different to the last moments of 2009, sitting in an old chair in an orphanage named ‘House of Joy’ in Lome’ with a darling 5 year old who promptly stole away my heart fast asleep in my arms.

I’ve met many children here who’ve left their footprints & fingerprints across my heart but there was something different about Blandine . Abandoned by her mother who due to mental illness sought help from a witch doctor. His solution was to impregnant her, promising a cure. Obviously this did not cure her mother who left her in the care of drug addicts who sexually abused her. Blandine was brought to live with Augusta - a remarkably strong & inspiring single woman who cares for 7 children in this orphanage. Each of their stories is horrific & hard. When you look in their eyes you can see the years of tears of pain each of them have encounted.

Just before the clock struck twelve we tucked them into their little beds and scrambled up to the roof to watch the fireworks, twirl in circles to Michael Franti tunes and eat fried coconut from old gin bottles. Sometimes here in Africa all I wish for is the comforts of home but this night I wouldn’t have wanted to be anywhere else in the world.

I wish you could all meet Blandine, I can’t wait till the internet connection is faster so I can spoil you all with photos. She loves to sing & dance & twirl even if her torn little red dress sometimes falls off (these things happen) She doesn’t like to hold hands when she crosses the street & she hates brushing her hair (sound like any other little girl that you know mum and dad?)

She likes to crawl into my lap last night at night and lifts her arms up for a cuddle early in the morning. We have a secret system for sneaking extra pineapple for the both of us at breakfast. After spending all day every day with her & the rest of the gang, leaving was one of the most painful experiences here yet. After a teary goodbye from both of us I only lasted the few steps onto our bus before sobbing into my sleeve for the 45 minute drive back to our home. ’ll never ever forget her and we hope to head back to the same orphanage again before we leave. I scribbled this about her in my notebook...

My girl

Fuzzy black hair
Wide white smile

Torn & ratty & faded orange shirt

She’s spinning & smiling with

Each flash our cameras and music ringing

But the little life of pain she’s already
led is ever so present in her deep dark brown eyes

She’s been abused
She’s been robbed
Not only of a life full of toys and secrets and teaparties
She’s been robbed of a life protected

She’s facing things I’ve never seen
Not even in my nightmares or my baddest dreams

Fuzzy black hair
Wide white smile

When we leave, self-contented with our contribution to your world within these walls

What’ll happen to you?

Back on the base we are nearly finished with our first attempt at a water tank and while I won’t be adding mason to my resume and hopefully the concrete comes out of my hair before I come home, its rewarding (AND really hard work) completing this tank for the children who walk from the nearby villages to get clean disease-free drinking water. In coming weeks we’ll be completing sand filters for hopefully a stack of homes in the surrounding villages to ensure that any of the unclean water they do collect can be filtered. This work reminds me of just how blessed, lucky - call it what you want - I am that I have never had to worry about not having enough water, it not being clean or having to carry litres on my head for miles. I don’t pretend to understand God and how He works ...but I have learnt even more from this trip that He must care for me. And it has inspired me more and more to ensure that I bless others as He has blessed me.

Our health care team are always in demand. It is not currently malaria season but we have encountered so many little lives plagued with this horrid and preventable disease. Suffering from malnutrition they are easily susceptible. Thankfully we have been able to diagnose and distribute medication. Amy, one of our team leaders and a nurse amazes me with her strength and ability to distribute compassion as well. She is never too tired or too busy for whoever has come to our home, hearing that their are white people in the village.

In a few weeks we’ll be heading further north to another village for awhile. I’m not sure whether or not we’ll have internet access there but your prayers, emails & notes are still so appreciated. We all get ridiculously excited when we head to the city to spend our cefa’s on banana splits and checking our emails. I am reminded often of the money so many of you generously gave to help me get here. Again. Thankyou. Thankyou. Thankyou.

Missing so many of you ever so much.