Hey, you!
Well, it has, indeed, been another heart-wrenching few days. A few members of our second group of teachers went to visit St. Jude's, an orphanage I was at only a few days prior to their visit. The children were a community that policed, protected, and nurtured each other... there are eight adults to over 80 kids. The small ones put my glasses on their faces and got a little rowdy with my camera.
Upon group two's visit, which I was not a part of, within minutes of arriving, "Big John" (a nearly seven foot male American teacher of mathematics) was reaching into an old latrine hole and bringing up an unconscious, non-responsive 2 1/2 year old child named Samuel. CPR was immediately administered by two young women, Colleen and Min. There remained no response. After a certain passage of 5 to 10 minutes, the three, John, Min, and Colleen, headed to the hospital with the IC vehicle. Colleen continued to administer breathing while Mine continued attempts at restoring Samuel's heartbeat. They arrived at Lacor Hospital around 2:40 pm. They were received with little attention and the staff seemed incapable of simply finding a cord for a machine to help save Samuel's life. There was little response to their emergency. Samuel was pronounced dead at 3:07 pm.
The emotional essence of our home that day was sobering, somber, and mournful. The story was retold enough times to make it just that - a story. And when the reality of an occurrence can become a story, we can remove ourselves from the reality. I know that in this story of mine from this summer... John, Colleen, and Min will always be heroes in my eyes.
Related, yet not related, I visited Mother Theressa's, another orphanage equipped with a primary school and boarding facilities, just the day after this horrific St. Jude's event. Over half of the children are deaf, though our communication border is still quite high with the very young ones with or without their capacity to hear. We played hand games, watched them fly a kite that was brought by another American teacher named Amanda, and saw another American teacher named Jeni sign a story for the deaf children. As our hand games progressed (Raysa and I were together), we slowly progressed into the inevitable - dancing!
We taught them how to salsa, how to do the running man, the "white guy can't dance," and much more. We were then quickly taught other Acholi dances, complete with an older woman yelling out in only the way an Acholi woman can (I must give you an attempted yell sample when I return... it cannot be transliterated). We returned a few days later to Kevin, a girl who had danced with us the entire few hours. We taught her and many others the Makarena and they taught us the Ajera... the courtship dance of the Acholi. Ohmagooness. It was so, so, SO much fun. And there was much laughter from us and the other kids. This, also, I will have to show you upon my return. All I can say is that Kevin is an incredible young girl and she has confidence like no other 12-year-old girl I have seen here. Amazing.
Otherwise, I've just been workin' in the office at IC. Brought cookies in last Friday... and that makes insta-friends. Hahaha. Maybe I should've done that week one, eh?
Much, much, much love to you and all you do!
- Miss Karen Rebecca Drydyk I
You are all so strong.
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