I continue to reflect on the days I spent with the girls. I am still thinking about them, 2 in particular but really the children as a group. I found myself locked in twice, once while we were still playing and someone had gone off to the market. The second time both of the workers had returned and so I am not sure exactly how it is we found ourselves locked in. I was ready to leave and calls for the key produced nothing. I sat down next to the girls who were helping carry my stuff to the car and we sang and danced and played drums on the containers. We talked and laughed and I learned a lot of Lingala in those 20 minutes.
Jolie is an older girl, somewhere between 11-14 I would guess, and has the most French. She served as my translator for the most part on Sunday when there was no one else around. With shaven hair and an erect posture she exuded a certain grace and patience. Kindness. Jolie is intelligent and thoughtful, the kind of girl you would be proud to call your daughter. Anna is a little cutie that appears about 4 but is probably actually closer to 6. She is spunky and fierce and I saw her devilishly tearing around a corner, fleeing one of the girls she had irritated in some way. The pesky little sister.
The problem for me is that, for the most part, these children aren't orphans. Many of them have homes and families, siblings, aunts and uncles, parents. And I can't help but look at Anna and wonder how it is her mother, her father, her aunties---someone---isn't thinking of her, wondering where she is and losing sleep over her absence in the house.
This Ramadan has been especially difficult for me as I've encountered something like a crisis of faith. I have been struggling to put together the pieces that make sense to me and figure out exactly what I can believe in, without doubt. Or maybe doubt is a constant part of having faith. But this struggle only further serves to create a distance between me and families like those of Anna. Often the families have been told by their church that the child is a sorcerer and I just can't imagine having that much faith in something. I can't imagine giving my life over to anyone who would tell me to put my child out. And I don't understand how sleep comes at night.
But I am learning that sometimes understanding is not the path. The folks at ORPER have a program based on reintegration. They work to move kids from the day centers to the home centers and back to their families. It is an arduous process. I don't know how many of the children who are returned end up back on the streets. As always, I land in the middle when trying to determine what is the best placement for kids like these. The cynical part of me believes someone who could be convinced to throw their child away once could be convinced to do it again. The optimist in me believes perhaps there are families out there grateful to have been given a second chance and have their eyes opened to the treasure they have. But I haven't stopped thinking about Anna since I met her three weeks ago. And I know where she is. Most likely her family remains in the dark. They just turned their backs and walked away..... Ramadan mubarak but it's not really a happy eid. I am struggling with this....
18.8.12
Looking for the white lady
"I have lost the road. I turned by the bakery, but now I am not sure exactly which turn off I should take." I was talking to Mama Annette, whom I'd never met in person and trying to find out how to get to the center for boys just outside of Bandal. She said she would send some of the kids to find me. I had already traveled a considerable way down the road and wondered if I had gone too far.
"But how will they know me?" I queried, still not quite solid in my belief that everything always works out (no matter how many times it does, there remains a lingering doubt.)
"Well, first, you're white." Did something in my voice give me away? I took a quick glance around the dusty dirt road and confirmed that I was, in fact, the only white person in sight.
"I am in a blue car," I said just in case some other mondele showed up in the meantime. I turned the car around and headed back towards the bakery. Then I turned around again and waited by the side of the road for some strange kids to find me. After a few minutes, I spotted them running towards me, waving their hands with smiles exploding from their faces. Did I really think somehow we would miss each other?
They happily jumped in the car and we set off in search of the center a block away. I've begun an art therapy program for the ORPER centers in Kinshasa. There are six houses, with one dedicated to serving girls, one for the youngest boys and the other four for the older boys. One day a week we draw and color and paint. On Sundays we play games and build with legos.
The boys were full of energy and eager to begin. They drew with concentration and careful thought. Mama Annette told me several of the boys had just arrived in the last day or so and were still getting used to routines. The care and nurturing here was evident. She began by asking them all to make sure their noses were clean which I found amusing and considerate all at the same time.
We began by designing their names. Some of the boys needed help writing and I did my best to try and spell some of the more unique names. I'm at their mercy. One little boy told me his name was Dieu (God) and so, thinking perhaps Dieudonne (God given), which is a common name in Kinshasa, I went ahead and wrote it on his paper. With some discussion we eventually added Mbaya. Dieu Mbaya. Pierrence and Moshubaye were some other names I sounded out.
Each boy presented his picture and explained some of the items he'd chosen to add. There were lots of flags of Congo, "Angola" (they said this but the flags didn't show the colors of Angola) and a green, yellow and black flag that I couldn't quite discern the significance of. There were houses and cars and snakes. One boy showed the story of how he had run away from his parents. After each presentation, the boys clapped and whooped for each other. Pride and happiness filled the room. I couldn't keep the smile from my own face even as the energy took a bit of a chaotic turn.
Our next project was to work in teams and draw random lines with a black marker. Then the boys spent time using crayons to fill in the spaces they had created. It is fascinating to watch how the different teams organize themselves. Inevitably there is a team that ends up with clearly divided areas. There are teams that work together to coordinate colors and teams that just randomly fill in wherever and however they wish. Each group came up with a name for their design and presented it to the group. Mama Annette asked them to explain why they had chosen a particular name and it turned almost into a school lesson. They said things like, "Banana because they are filled with vitamins and vitamins are important."or "Okapi, it is the pride of Congo." and " Ferme because when you don't have enough to eat, your stomach is closed." Profound thoughts from 7 and 8 year olds.
There are several challenges when going to the centers, one of which is figuring out how to work with the educators. My two experiences have been incredibly positive and the women have helped to translate for me, teach me a few words and maintain order.
On Sundays, the "auxillary" staff are present. They are not the trained workers but fill ins so the regular staff can have a day of rest. They may let the routines slide a bit and be a little less involved in doling out morale and encouraging good behavior. But in general, I felt like the kids were lucky to be in such a positive place.
I couldn't help comparing them to the girls at the center I had visited the week before. The girls were calmer, appeared more tired and worn out. They are at a day center and this may be part of the reason. While there are sleeping quarters, the girls can come and go. There was a greater range of ages and on my first visit, I was introduced to the president, vice president and secretary. They did the same activities but with shyness and less exuberant energy. Their drawings were full of food (pineapples and fish) and the pestle and mortar used for grinding. They talked about preparing food and listening to the radio. Some of them talked about fashion. They all seemed to name their group pictures after countries (carte de Amerique, carte de Congo, carte de Angola, etc.)
The second day at their center, we built with legos and pattern blocks. They learned how to play Jenga and Connect Four. They had a lot of questions about my hair- most of the younger girls appear boy like because thier hair is so short. One girl sported some beads just in the front-"Rhianna," she told me, after the famous pop star.) They offered to fix me up and I sadly had to tell them that the dreds don't actually come out. The courtyard is not covered and we were in the sun for much of the time. They alternated between sleeping and building lazily. I watched one young girl who appeared to be mentally retarded do most of the work washing cups and dishes. I really wanted to call her over and tell her to play but wasn't quite ready to over rule established routines. This was quite different from Mama Annette who told me about one of the boys that seemed a little slow in speaking, but now she noticed he was quite intelligent with the art we were doing. She also remarked about how coordination in some of the children could be improved and I felt like I had a good supporter in her.
The program involves me rotating around to all of the six centers - which means it will be a long time before I get back to the girls. I had such a good time talking with those girls and laughing together I thought I wanted to insist on staying at just one place. Then I met the boys today and we had a different kind of fun. So I see, maybe the rotation is good for awhile. All the kids can benefit from making art and playing games with the white lady, Mama Soumah. And I am learning more Lingala and how to have my own real exploding smile.
"But how will they know me?" I queried, still not quite solid in my belief that everything always works out (no matter how many times it does, there remains a lingering doubt.)
"Well, first, you're white." Did something in my voice give me away? I took a quick glance around the dusty dirt road and confirmed that I was, in fact, the only white person in sight.
"I am in a blue car," I said just in case some other mondele showed up in the meantime. I turned the car around and headed back towards the bakery. Then I turned around again and waited by the side of the road for some strange kids to find me. After a few minutes, I spotted them running towards me, waving their hands with smiles exploding from their faces. Did I really think somehow we would miss each other?
They happily jumped in the car and we set off in search of the center a block away. I've begun an art therapy program for the ORPER centers in Kinshasa. There are six houses, with one dedicated to serving girls, one for the youngest boys and the other four for the older boys. One day a week we draw and color and paint. On Sundays we play games and build with legos.
The boys were full of energy and eager to begin. They drew with concentration and careful thought. Mama Annette told me several of the boys had just arrived in the last day or so and were still getting used to routines. The care and nurturing here was evident. She began by asking them all to make sure their noses were clean which I found amusing and considerate all at the same time.
We began by designing their names. Some of the boys needed help writing and I did my best to try and spell some of the more unique names. I'm at their mercy. One little boy told me his name was Dieu (God) and so, thinking perhaps Dieudonne (God given), which is a common name in Kinshasa, I went ahead and wrote it on his paper. With some discussion we eventually added Mbaya. Dieu Mbaya. Pierrence and Moshubaye were some other names I sounded out.
Each boy presented his picture and explained some of the items he'd chosen to add. There were lots of flags of Congo, "Angola" (they said this but the flags didn't show the colors of Angola) and a green, yellow and black flag that I couldn't quite discern the significance of. There were houses and cars and snakes. One boy showed the story of how he had run away from his parents. After each presentation, the boys clapped and whooped for each other. Pride and happiness filled the room. I couldn't keep the smile from my own face even as the energy took a bit of a chaotic turn.
Our next project was to work in teams and draw random lines with a black marker. Then the boys spent time using crayons to fill in the spaces they had created. It is fascinating to watch how the different teams organize themselves. Inevitably there is a team that ends up with clearly divided areas. There are teams that work together to coordinate colors and teams that just randomly fill in wherever and however they wish. Each group came up with a name for their design and presented it to the group. Mama Annette asked them to explain why they had chosen a particular name and it turned almost into a school lesson. They said things like, "Banana because they are filled with vitamins and vitamins are important."or "Okapi, it is the pride of Congo." and " Ferme because when you don't have enough to eat, your stomach is closed." Profound thoughts from 7 and 8 year olds.
There are several challenges when going to the centers, one of which is figuring out how to work with the educators. My two experiences have been incredibly positive and the women have helped to translate for me, teach me a few words and maintain order.
On Sundays, the "auxillary" staff are present. They are not the trained workers but fill ins so the regular staff can have a day of rest. They may let the routines slide a bit and be a little less involved in doling out morale and encouraging good behavior. But in general, I felt like the kids were lucky to be in such a positive place.
I couldn't help comparing them to the girls at the center I had visited the week before. The girls were calmer, appeared more tired and worn out. They are at a day center and this may be part of the reason. While there are sleeping quarters, the girls can come and go. There was a greater range of ages and on my first visit, I was introduced to the president, vice president and secretary. They did the same activities but with shyness and less exuberant energy. Their drawings were full of food (pineapples and fish) and the pestle and mortar used for grinding. They talked about preparing food and listening to the radio. Some of them talked about fashion. They all seemed to name their group pictures after countries (carte de Amerique, carte de Congo, carte de Angola, etc.)
The second day at their center, we built with legos and pattern blocks. They learned how to play Jenga and Connect Four. They had a lot of questions about my hair- most of the younger girls appear boy like because thier hair is so short. One girl sported some beads just in the front-"Rhianna," she told me, after the famous pop star.) They offered to fix me up and I sadly had to tell them that the dreds don't actually come out. The courtyard is not covered and we were in the sun for much of the time. They alternated between sleeping and building lazily. I watched one young girl who appeared to be mentally retarded do most of the work washing cups and dishes. I really wanted to call her over and tell her to play but wasn't quite ready to over rule established routines. This was quite different from Mama Annette who told me about one of the boys that seemed a little slow in speaking, but now she noticed he was quite intelligent with the art we were doing. She also remarked about how coordination in some of the children could be improved and I felt like I had a good supporter in her.
The program involves me rotating around to all of the six centers - which means it will be a long time before I get back to the girls. I had such a good time talking with those girls and laughing together I thought I wanted to insist on staying at just one place. Then I met the boys today and we had a different kind of fun. So I see, maybe the rotation is good for awhile. All the kids can benefit from making art and playing games with the white lady, Mama Soumah. And I am learning more Lingala and how to have my own real exploding smile.
12.8.12
year five
Things seem to be going wrong in that colossal way that leaves no room for doubt about future direction. If I was waiting for a theme to emerge this year, irony appears to have shown herself from head to tail. If I had hoped and prayed for signs to guide me, they've been succinctly answered.
I am trying to remember when doors close, windows open and every opportunity begins with an ending. And actually, it's no longer feeling suffocating but liberating. I am learning to laugh at the turn of events and bizarre predicaments my life is bringing forth. Perhaps all of those capoeira classes meant to find find balance and inner strength have paid off.
Despite the departure of my kickboxing instructor, Kinshasa has come through and provided a vast new array of exercise activities to fill my evenings. I wonder how I will have time for classroom planning and homework.
I have vowed (again) not to let my working life take over, but any teacher will tell you how nearly impossible that is. It's not a neat and tidy job that ends at a precise hour when all the papers can be stacked and declared finished. Rather, it is a never ending search to improve, to motivate, to enlighten and to cherish the process of learning. I find myself at a moment when my own personal learning and growth is offering up new pathways and possibilities.
Salue, year five. I embrace the challenges and new directions you are offering.
I am trying to remember when doors close, windows open and every opportunity begins with an ending. And actually, it's no longer feeling suffocating but liberating. I am learning to laugh at the turn of events and bizarre predicaments my life is bringing forth. Perhaps all of those capoeira classes meant to find find balance and inner strength have paid off.
Despite the departure of my kickboxing instructor, Kinshasa has come through and provided a vast new array of exercise activities to fill my evenings. I wonder how I will have time for classroom planning and homework.
I have vowed (again) not to let my working life take over, but any teacher will tell you how nearly impossible that is. It's not a neat and tidy job that ends at a precise hour when all the papers can be stacked and declared finished. Rather, it is a never ending search to improve, to motivate, to enlighten and to cherish the process of learning. I find myself at a moment when my own personal learning and growth is offering up new pathways and possibilities.
Salue, year five. I embrace the challenges and new directions you are offering.
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