Beacon House

Living here hit a new kind of high today. And by high I mean low.

Explanation: Today is one of the coolest days since I arrived a month ago, and it is beautiful.

The humidity in the past week or so has been horrendous. The 70ish-feeling day today was much appreciated. On top of the beautiful temperature and exceptional breeze - I went to Beacon House again today.

The joy that those kids bring me cannot be matched elsewhere. The knee-hugs and ear-to-ear smiles coupled with booger-wipes on my pants and drool pools on my shirt collar result in a state of pure bliss. The kids are so full of life and so excited to be loved on.

Sometimes I feel kind of useless when I'm there, simply because I don't know what to do with myself. Should I be doing something more useful than holding this baby and kissing his nose repeatedly?

The answer is usually no.

Two of my early-favorites at the orphanage are Jeremiah and Kwasi. Both of them are just little babies, but they have personality for days. I've started calling Jeremiah our little bullfrog and Kwasi is still Mikaeli to me, because that was his name when he came into the orphanage a few weeks ago. One of the little girls who was the most excited to see me last week was Anna Maria. She was equally excited today. When it came time to read the story for the day one of the other CIEE volunteers took a seat and started to read. I sat down in the back of the classroom trying to keep from being a distraction. I failed. Anna Maria was sitting in front of me and quickly turned around to hold my hand and eventually pull it over her should so I was draped on her like a fill-in-Mommy-blanket.

My heart was full to the point of bursting... painfully so.

These kids want nothing more than to be held, loved... NOTICED. And here I am, some stupid white foreigner, only in the country for 4 months and I think I can give them that? I had a few moments today where I started to feel guilty for going there. I started to think about how hard it will be on these kids (and on me for that matter) when I disappear from their lives in December. The only consolation is that I know I will write them letters when I go home. I will do my absolute best to stay in touch.

One of the boys, Solo, is blind, mute and suffers from a mental handicap with unknown parameters. The orphanage simply doesn't have the means to work out any kind of diagnosis, so the degree of his mental handicap is a mystery. Solo identifies the volunteers by their voices and the rings or bracelets they wear. Today I was wearing a beaded cuff that I bought here and I was quickly informed by a fellow volunteer that I needed to wear it every time I came, because now that bracelet marks ME for Solo.

To these kids I'm a big hug and a bracelet.

And that seems to be enough.