Dirty Dancing

It is just after lunch on Tuesday, and I have a few minutes before gender issues class to say hello. I miss all of you back home.

My children were little devils today. Lots of fighting and crying, making one tires mwalimu (teacher). I must say, though, something happens each day that makes me laugh. They are just like children in the US, they have their own little personalities, and I always laugh when I feel like I can see their brains trying to wrap around a situation. A little girl named Evenlight (Evenia for short) has captured my heart. Most of the others, I could leave or take. But not Evenia. She is the youngest in class, 4, and has a very poor mother who looks after her. Today, she stayed after class and wanted to pretend to be the teacher with the ruler and the chalkboard. If I was going to take someone home with me, it would be her.

I am really wishing I had a video camera with me. I would like you all to see dance time. They like American music, and they start jumping around when the radio comes out. The girls are taught to pull their skirts tight around their bottoms, and move their hips like JLo. It's so funny to see them doing these provocative dances, and the boys staring at them. Then when the boys dance, they do this thrusting movement that makes me laugh so hard, I leave the room. It really is no wonder most children are sexually active at 12, and so many women have lots of children. They really are taught young- it's ingrained in their culture. The hardest part is to realize that and not yell at them for it.

After class today, I spoke to Mr. Massawe and his wife about the orphanage. The students pay no school fees. He says he knows the parents are poor, and the children will end up in the streets with nothing to make of their lives, most of the girls using their bodies for money. So, he makes no money at all to support his family. The only money they get is from donations and sponsors. His 15 year old daughter, who I spend most days with and just adore, is not in secondary school because they cannot afford it. She is my African sister! I really admire him for caring for the children like they are his own, and living without so much for his own family. I can't imagine what that must take.

I asked today for the address so I can send care packages from home, but he told me that he had to close the PO Box because he couldn't pay the fee. It's just under $30 for a year. So, even people who are fundraising for them have nowhere to send any money. It's really heartbreaking. But, I will do everything in my power and my fiscal capabilities to help them out. I will get the PO Box back open, and hopefully send my dada (sister) to secondary school. Again today, they bought us Coca-Colas and fed us little bread cakes (which had the consistency of a rubber eraser, but at least they tried, right?).

Tomorrow I have the day off from teaching. We are going on a tour, and to swim in some waterfalls. It will be a welcomed break for me. These little rascals are tiring me out!