Sons of Menaseh

When I was a kid I had a bit of an orphan complex - okay I had a huge orphan complex! I was obsessed with little orphan Annie, Cabbage Patch Kids, the Little Match girl, Road to Avonlea... anything remotely orphan related. I was desperate to be orphaned, kidnapped, anything! I obviously didn't have a terribly realistic idea about what would happen if I were kidnapped - I of course ifgured I would be forced down a well to mine jewels for a crazy old lady (see The Rescuers) or trapped in a magic painting by a crazy man and forced to make magic paintbrushes (The Peanutbutter Solution, but don't watch it, you'll think I'm crazy). And of course the life of an orphan was bound to consist mostly of shenanagans and sisterhood, intersparsed with a few good songs, some dancing and the occasional escape attempt foiled by that darn orphanage owner! My sister and I used to play orphan Annie relentlessly - I was always Annie and she was always Ms. Hannigan. I think I may have complained aobu this arrangement at the time, but secretly, I wouldn't have had it any other way!

Here in Kenya, I'm getting a bit of a different outlook on the whole orphan situation. I have been spending some time at the Sons Of Menaseh home for children - a bonafide orphanage. It's probably perverse but when I'm there, I always feel the urge to break into a round of "It's a hard-knocked life" or "The sun will come out tomorrow". The kids would probably love it - they love songs and sing constantly. Their favorites include The Sound of Music and some Sunday school song about a hippo that Crystal taught them. Still, I try to contain myself.

It is actually quite fun to hand out at the orphanage. The children are, in most ways, just like kids in Canada - they laugh and play, giggle with friends, tease the other children and think farting is hilarious. Of course there are differences also; the oldest girls seem much older to me than their 13 years, they are serious and cautious; a few of the youngest ones seem more withdrawn than a preschooler should be; and all of them crave adult attention to extremes! I have been told a few of the children's stories, how they came to be living at the childrens home; some are truly orphaned, by AIDS or otherwise; some have been abandoned or neglected in their homes; a few have lived on the street for a while before being taken in by Joseph and Beatrice (the owners). At least one of the children are HIV positive. Stories like these could happen anywhere, Kenya or Canada, and yet to see them in such high numbers (this orphanage is only one of at least five just in my area) is alarming and heart breaking.

The volunteers at the orphanage help with daily routines, cooking and cleaning, they also help the children with homework and practicing English, but mostly they are there just to play, interact and care about the children. I think it is often these simplest of interactions that encourage the children and make them feel valuable. Of course there is an interesting downside to the volunteer role as well. As much as the kids love that you come and play with them, they also seem a bit indifferent to the comings and goings of the volunteers. This orphanage, and many others, have a constantly rotating contingent of foreign volunteers - meaning that sometimes the kids see new faces every couple of weeks. While I have no doubt that the volunteers do good and wonderful things by giving their time, it also means the children live with very little constancy in their lives - here today, gone tomorrow. I wonder how that impacts someone after a life time of people who care, but are going to leave, often suddenly.

The other night I spent the night at Sons of Menaseh and we had a pizza party with the kids - complete with pizza, pop, chips and Finding Nemo, pretty much a standard North American birthday party, minus the presents. Oh, and add the small drama of one of the children coming home after having run away two days ago. Actually it was great to watch all the children hugging him and welcoming him home, and to see the looks of relief on all the staffs' faces. Not Ms. Hannigan draggin Annie home, but Joseph and Beatrice hugging the boy in a very parental way.

Jospeh and Beatrice, they are truly beautiful people. They have two young children of their won and a few years ago they felt called to care for more. They opened Sons of Menaseh and are now raising 29 children from many different backgrounds. Their funds are often lacking and the building they rent is austere, to put it nicely, but they make do. They are immaculate hosts, very kind and welcoming. Joseph is the dreamer, the visionary - he has huge plans for their home, whether they are attainable or not. Beatrice is a bit more grounded - the organizer, the detailed one, she keeps things going on a daily basis.

In just under two weeks, my mum will be joining me in Kenya as a volunteer in a children's home. I know she is really excited abou this new experience and truthfully, I am excited also. I'm excited for her, trying something new and bringing so many life experiences to this. I'm also excited for me, because she will be someone to share the experience here with; to debrief with, laugh with, ride matatus with and pine for Starbucks with!