From Then to Now

Krumasaray, Joseph, Maxell and I walking to the roadside to fetch them school supplies

January 30th
I just came inside from showering in the first rainstorm in Dodowa since my arrival! I was just telling the volunteers at lunch how much I wished it would rain and how on my previous visit we would stand outside in bathing suits with our shower gel and shampoo in anticipation of rain that rarely came. Less than an hour later someone said “Do you hear rain??” and we ran outside to enjoy it. When you don’t have running water, showering under the torrent of rain pouring from the gutters feels like the cleanest you’ve ever been. Of course, staying clean is an entirely different story. Our road is mostly loose red dirt, so our next trek to the orphanage will be a long muddy slog in which I suspect at least one person will lose a shoe.

Spot #1-Front Porch

***Turns out I was right about the shoe. Later that same night Manuela, Tiahn, Emma and I were walking to the orphanage down the slightly muddy path. Emma was walking ahead of the torchlight and saw the small ditch we normally pass over and thought it had dried. She was rather sorely mistaken. She stepped into a good foot of muddy water and came out the other side minus one shoe. Some locals passing by helped catch her on the other side and proceeded to fish her shoe out of the water before sending her on her way. Manuela, Tiahn and I were rather useless in helping this process along as we were giggling our pants off.***
February 9th

Spot #2-Behind the black tanks

In the last week, Dodowa has seen 3 rather impressive rainstorms. Just so you know, I gauge “impressive” based on the rain being heavy enough for me to take a high-pressure shower underneath our gutters. Such storms are pretty unusual this time of year as it is the dry season but I think our close proximity to the mountains allow us a bit more rain than other nearby villages. As I mentioned in a previous post, the river behind the orphanage turned dry a few weeks ago. The loss of that nearby source of water definitely slowed down the morning process. Suddenly the children had to walk a considerable distance to fetch water for their bath with one of the few available buckets. Thanks to these blessed storms the river has returned, though likely only temporarily.

Spot #3-My bedroom

Welcome though these storms may be, they do put a small, muddy hitch in getting from the volunteer house to the orphanage. The red, clay-like dirt that our road is comprised of does not absorb much water, and what it does absorb promptly turns to deeply slippery red mud. Have I ever mentioned how you feel perpetually dirty here? If not, now I have. If you shower in the rainstorm, you walk to your job and are literally splattered with dirt. If you take a bucket shower inside on a typical, non-rainy day you walk outside only to become immediately sweaty and dusted by the wind with the aforementioned red dirt.

Spot #4-End of the hallway

As my family can personally attest to, such storms also come with a little musical entertainment. While on the phone with my mom, dad and aunt earlier this week I warned my dad that I might not have much time to talk because a storm was coming and it would soon be very loud. Looking back, I realize he may not have realized the truth behind this statement at the time, though less than 10 minutes later he had experienced it firsthand (or maybe secondhand, if you count the phone in my hand as the first hand). Soon began the game of run-room-to-room-attempting-to-find-a-quiet-spot-to-talk-on-the-phone. I started out on the front porch, free from echo-y hallways and bad service caused by concrete walls. Predictably, the sudden onset of cooler weather brought the neighbor 3 neighbor children out to the front porch to play. I walked out from under the protection of the porch to the front garden for a quieter spot to talk. Once I was under the dark sky the rain started falling, forcing me to go back inside in search of a 3rd location for a phone conversation that hadn’t even been going on for 5 minutes yet. I went inside the house knowing that it was unlikely I’d find a quiet place to talk. The roof of our house is made of metal, as are most of our neighbor’s houses, so when the rain starts to come the noise is magnified considerably. We also don’t have the option to close our windows as they essentially operate as large, glass Venetian blinds so even when they are closed serve only to block wind, not noise.

Spot # 5-Just down by that window

As I stood struggling to maintain the conversation with the combination of chattering roommates and pouring rain on the tin roof above me, another noise added to the chorus working against me. A few goats started bleating loudly immediately outside our bedroom window, presumably indignant about their involuntary shower. If you’ve never heard such a sound before, you probably won’t believe me when I tell you that screaming goats sound like children screaming at the top of their lungs. So now on top of the considerable din of the rain, I had a chorus of angry kids screaming loudly a few feet away. I decided to venture elsewhere in the house, knowing that the only room that was free from windows is a proverbial dead-zone for cellular reception in addition to being lightless and fan-less. I tried the end of a hallway within view of the porch where I giggled upon seeing all the neighbor’s chickens and chicks (who we frequently find wandering the hallways of our house) congregated on the porch squawking loudly and using our recently cleaned porch as a communal toilet. Finally, I settled on a quiet-ish hallway with only one window and no protesting animals to finish my short-lived telephone conversation. Even a fifteen-minute phone call can turn into a challenge here.
****

Venetian blind windows...don't keep sound out

        It’s such fun to see how the children change over a short time here. I find particular joy in immense changes that have come about in children since my last visit a year ago. Israel arrived about halfway through my time here last time and didn’t speak a word the first two weeks he was here. We were all convinced he didn’t speak English, though we were informed he had arrived with his two sisters who both did so that theory was dismissed. He wandered around looking rather lost in a pair of horrendously dirty jean shorts that had a flock of flied constantly swarming around them. He wouldn’t allow anyone to give him a new pair and wash those. It wasn’t until nearly three weeks into his residency that he started to talk. On the day that my roommate, Nina, was leaving we were walking down the lane outside the orphanage where Kwame and Israel were playing football with each other. Kwame waved and shouted his farewell to Nina and Israel pulled a grin and yelled “Bye-bye!!” We looked at each other in astonishment, having just heard his voice for the first time. Later that week another volunteer came beckoning the rest of us to see Israel. He was in the boy’s room, and upon request was confidently announcing the name of each person at the home when they were pointed to. He had taken those three weeks to learn the names of every single child and volunteer. That was about my last memory of Israel, aside from the fact that he was still slow to smile.
Since returning, Israel’s smile has become one of my very favorite things to see. He plays daily with Kwame, a small boy who is often mistreated by other children at school and in the home alike. They seem to have found great companionship in each other, which makes me very happy. If you tickle him on his big belly, a smile capable of lighting a small village spreads across his small face as his big brown eyes simultaneously smile up at you. I love seeing how these children change for the better as they become accustomed to their surroundings and new friends.
Israel’s friend, Kwame, has made some big changes in the last year too. Last year he would constantly be asking volunteers for plasters (bandages) for his various open sores. We always try to ask where the sore comes from and how long it’s been there when we mend wounds, and when Kwame was asked he never had an answer. We soon discovered that he was injuring himself. He would sit along and pick off patches of skin just to gain the attention of a volunteer for a few minutes; so desperate was he for any morsel of tenderness. There are such an overwhelming number of children for volunteers to meet and know that a shy boy like Kwame often gets lost in the chaos. Since my return, I’ve noticed that his habit of self-inflicted injuries has been left behind. The occasional injury I treat is one he has an explanation for. He recently had a large abscess on his ankle so severe I purchased antibiotics to help speed the healing process along. I know how much I hated taking medicine growing up so seeing the grin on Kwame’s face as he ran to remind me about his medicine twice a day still sticks with me. Whether because he was excited to have something to himself, though it was only medicine, or to have that personal attention twice a day he practically skipped away after each dose.

Kwame with his stickered face

A week or two ago some of the older boys caught a small bird in the bush behind the house. Upon discovering that it was missing a foot, they decided to keep it and take care of it. After a day or two the novelty had worn off and only Kwame was left checking on him everyday before he went to school, after he came home and before he went to bed. He put the bird in a small tin along with some of his garre, which is a dry grain that is eaten here regularly. He would take him out and pet him daily. A few days later, he came to me and told me he thought the bird was thirsty, could he just pour some water into the tin with him? I suggested he find an empty bottle cap to put the water in instead and allow the bird to drink at will. Kwame went to a nearby tree and picked a large leaf, dusted it meticulously with his shirt and poured a bit of water into the crease down the middle. He set the bird next to the leaf but the bird didn’t find it. He tried a different tact. Tenderly holding the bird in one hand, he slowly poured water past the bird’s mouth. To both of our amazement, he drank it! As the water dripped slowly from the cup, the bird drank and drank until he was satisfied as Kwame proudly smiled at what he had done for another living creature.

Abigail sporting her Wisconsin shirt!

Another few mornings later, I arrived at the orphanage to find Kwame wearing a large puffy coat, despite the warm weather. He moped around with his hand in his pocket for a while, saying very little. Finally he approached me and said “Jayne, the bird died,” and produced the tiny carcass from the pocket of his coat, looking sullen. I told him I was very sorry, he had taken the best care of it he could and thanked him for being so kind to the bird. He asked what he should do with it and I told him the only thing I knew to tell him, it needed to go in with the rubbish. He nodded curtly and walked away. Kwame had a hard time getting ready for school that day. He waited and waited for a bucket to be available to bath with and when it finally was, his bucket of water was tipped over. He wandered around teary-eyed for a while until I took his hand and went with him to fetch some more. It didn’t occur to me until later that in all likelihood his tears were not for the spilled water as much as they were for his lost pet.

3 of the 5 new drums at The Potters Village!

On a cheerier note, thanks to Bruce Hering and his generous band students at Eau Claire North High School 5 custom made drums were purchased for The Potters Village last week! They have been at the home for less than 24 hours and already they have made a great deal of brilliant music. The boys who have been using them the most previously spent a decent amount of time drumming on any available surface from upturned buckets to empty barrels, wooden chairs to plastic bowls. 5 drums in the hands of 5 of these talented kids means loud, joyous African music. Woohoo!!