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Published: October 14th 2009
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I feel like visiting an orphanage in Africa (or any other developing country for that matter) is one of those things you might find listed on the website stuffwhitepeoplelike.com, which makes fun of the seemingly normal but somehow ridiculous interests of middle-class caucasians. I admit that I once felt noble telling people at home that I had just returned from Ethiopia, volunteering at a homeless soup kitchen and holding orphan babies. Even though it was a temporary treat for the kids I served, the experience was more about me, and the effect it would have on
my life. And I guess there’s really nothing wrong with that, as long as I don’t believe that makes me Jesus.
Spending a Saturday afternoon at Royal Seed Orphanage in Kasoa, Central Region, however, was a much different experience than I had expected. It could be because I went not with a bunch of Americans but with a Ghanaian high school church group, or because it wasn’t my first encounter with a hundred parent-less little kids smeared with dirt and toughened with a lifetime of struggling. Maybe it is because it wasn’t part of a mission or my main purpose in coming to this
The cutest
I wish I could look that good with yarn braided in my hair! country; I was just going to share a bit of joy and love with some lively children. And as it turned out, they were even more willing to share their own joy and love with me!
It was a little random how I ended up in the whole situation. My friend Daniel had gone there before to sing and was planning to visit again this particular Saturday but got malaria. He still wanted me to go so he arranged for a friend to escort me to the church whose youth group was also going to put on a program. There were about 25 teenagers dressed in red t-shirts and jeans when I arrived, and none of them seemed to take any interest in me. Ghanaians are sometimes weird about introductions; they don’t always find them necessary, so you end up sitting there awkwardly in silence. But after we got going and arrived at the orphanage, some of them warmed up to me. Plus, it wasn’t really about the group.
The program they had planned was a mini church service, dancing, and games that were much too complicated and only involved a few kids at a time
(when there were over 120), except for a dance competition and musical chairs. The children sat patiently and sang loudly and seemed to enjoy most of it. They were too shy to dance with me, which I was kind of surprised by, so I ended up watching with a little baby on my lap named Isaac. He was super cute. The group did a couple of fun choreography routines and the kids responded with a show of their own (that definitely topped that of the high schoolers). We passed out ice cream, but that became a disaster because there weren’t enough packets of FanIce to go around so we had to cut them into fourths.
By the end, everyone was tired, some were crying, and the wind had done a sufficient job of caking us with dirt from head to toe. I hadn’t eaten since early morning and definitely felt ready to leave. Before I could, however, the leader of the dance group asked me to give a closing speech, thanking them and presenting the gifts we brought (which I hadn’t actually contributed to). I tried to throw in as many references to the Lord as I could, since
that seemed to be the theme of the day (hah well, every day every where on this continent) and I guess it was satisfactory because everyone applauded. We left them with a few huge bags of clothes and they weren’t too sad to see us go; I guess they come to expect it.
The journey home was long and sticky. The worst traffic anywhere in Ghana is on Saturday evenings, as everyone is coming home from funerals, dressed in black and red funeral-patterned cloth and headscarves. The tro-tros are humid with B.O. and dust in the hot recycled air. On this particular night, I found myself sandwiched between a sleeping old woman and a creepy-looking man sulking because I harshly rejected his nearly immediate friend-proposal in the first five minutes of the ride. I was tired and dirty but decided to enjoy the next two hours anyway. There is one brilliant thing about being stuck in traffic here and that is snack-shopping. A continuous stream of vendors pass through the lanes on both sides, balancing anything you could ever want on top of their heads or waving in their hands: plantain chips, fried coconut dough, tiger nuts, oranges and frozen yogurt. I tried to restrain myself this time, though, because I had an exquisite Kenyan dinner waiting for me at my friend Michelle’s house.
All in all, it was a very satisfying day and it felt great to forget about my own life for a few hours. I think that is why people of any color do things like this-- we all like to be reminded that our way of viewing the world is just one tiny window into every life that is possible. And isn’t it wonderful when we find that the panes of our vision have expanded to include so much more beauty and tragedy at the same time?
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shelley
non-member comment
Service w/ 120+ Smiles
It is so cool, fasinating and unexpected how different your experience is this time doing exactly many of the things you've now done in your 2 previous trips to Africa. And so fun to laugh w/ the direct honest sharing of raw human experience that is the cornerstone of a successful comedian. And talk about living your research paper on individual/cultural differences toward pain?! So newly released from your hospital hell w/ malaria or swine flu or whatever (diagnosis irrelevant since treatment is universal, huh?) you pop right out there into the crazy chaotic and unpredictable life that is so Ghanain -- like living a 24/7 imprompt to drama. I really like the way you seem to be much more into the flow of things, so different from the intense emotional highs and lows of your initial introduction to the magic and tragedy of Ethiopia, wow 5 yrs ago? Keep playing up the Lord deal -- I know it is extremely dogmatic and pervasive (and invasive!!) but I believe their faith is the core of what sustains and anchors them internally that they're able to so easily deal w/ the dire daily external hardships there with such Grace. You are so clearly embracing and allowing yourself to be swept along into that vast powerful river of your own powerlessness and the joy so clearly expressed in your writing is testament to the power of nonresistance. GO WITH THE FLOW KIDDO it's a crack up to vicariously share it w/ you (esp as I pout that my fax isn't working and my printer is out of ink, again! and isn't configured right, I'm out of fresh orange and carrot juice blah blah blah) Bless you for putting a smile on my face and a lightness in my heart. LOVE YOU PA! Your Maa