Something More Creative Later

i don’t know where to start, really…

On Monday, I started work in an orphanage called AHOPE. We will be splitting our time with our original work site and the orphanage.

I don’t know how it started. I made some noises, three boys echoed me. I made a couple more noises. They echoed. I added a body gesture, they repeated it. Soon, I was waltzing around the orphanage yard, cawing, mawing, waving my arms, marching, and the kids were following the leader dutifully. At one point, I had about 20 imitating my everything…I even got them to tell Autumn that they were hungry and were going to eat here. Perhaps I misused my power. Do I regret it? Sometimes I lay awake at night…Leaving was a difficult endaeavor, as you can assume, with everyone echoing me, but I escaped.

The next day, was able to sit with several shoe shine boys, and able to pray with them. They are all boys off the street.

Then Wednesday. I am still recovering.

I returned to the AHOPE orphanage. My shadows were there, eager to imitate me. Such high flattery. I didn’t oblige them, but instead let a boy named Abraham drag me around.

And then we went to the other branch of AHOPE, for the children under 7. They are all so cute, and cuddly (and all the other smiley cliches). I had to coax a boy named Binyam to happiness, and then I couldn’t get rid of him. I plopped him on my lap and bobbed him around, and then added another boy (whose name I struggle to remember). Two little ninos juggled on my knees. Incredibly giggly, joyous faces.

Both of them have HIV. AHOPE only accepts children that are HIV positive. The second boy had a lesion on his neck and warts on his face, it was almost hard to look at…I wanted to weep…I have never experienced such privilege in my life.

That night, I walked the streets with a group of about six teammates. We met several boys who lived under a tarp against a wall.

Next, we walked the alleys of South Mercado. The alleys are paved of uneven rocks stuck in mud. Walls of sheet metals line these alleys, which stretch for kilometers. And women line the walls. Prostitutes, commercial sex workers, just sitting in doorways into huts which have little more than a bed and some posters on the walls. With two group members, I entered one of the commercial sex workers huts and talked with the woman. Her name was Jerry, a very nice woman. She indicated a curtain in the back. We lifted it to find a baby, Teguist, beautiful and asleep.

I don’t know what to do with that. With the whole day, with my entire time here. I realize how broken this world really is, and I just don’t know what to do with it. Jesus is obviously the answer, but if I am his body, what does he want of me? I know the basics, but when I look at Teguist, it all seems so much more complex than it used to. My tears aren’t enough. Sometimes they feel like all I have.

On a lighter note, still no sickness, and the food is amazing, although I have been emitting strange smells as of late. It have cause quite a ruckus.

I ate a Calzone that looked like it had eaten four litter Calzones. To all those skeptics, you would have been proud of my downing ability.

A little girl with braids turned around and I promise that the back of her looked liked the Predator. I can’t describe it any better than that.

Mainly though, I’m incredibly privileged. To have talked to Jerry, to have held those children. That God let me witness and partake in such things is more than I deserve.

Also, I will not be changing the blog title. My apologies.