Goodbyes

All good things must come to an end. And in the case of my trip to Kinangop, Kenya, I certainly wasn't ready to leave. Unfortunately, I actually tried to bump my flight back for an extra couple of weeks, but the airlines wouldn't allow me to get any kind of refund on the flight that I already had so that definitely wasn't an option. But then again, are we ever really ready to say goodbye? I feel like each and every one of the days I was able to spend with the kids at IAA was a blessing, and I'm so thankful for every moment I was able to stay.

My last days there were full of a mix of emotions. On one hand, I was doing my best to soak up every last bit of my experiences there, while at the same time I always had it nagging at me in back of my head that my time was in fact, limited.

I began exchanging letters with Sheilah the last couple of weeks. She's the oldest girl who lives on site, and she's much quieter than most of the others. Unlike the toddlers who immediately run up to greet you upon arrival, the older kids take a bit more effort to get to know. They won't just come up to you and talk about your day, but for some reason the effort required to get to know them seems to make things that much more personal. Since Sheilah was never particularly one to talk to any of the volunteers, I spent lots of time just sitting with her, or even doing a bit of talking to myself. I would ask her questions, yes - but that doesn't mean I'd get too many responses. But before long, she began to open up little bit by little bit. When she wrote me a note one evening, I was so excited to write her back. She'd leave notes and gifts (bracelets I'll treasure forever) under my door at night, then I'd be able to have a response ready when we picked everyone up from school.

When it came to the day I was flying out, it really hadn't hit me that I was leaving. Things were normal for the most part, and there was a lot to do. (Particularly since a medical team was coming in a couple of days - inspiration for the staff to do a bit of "spring" cleaning in the middle of their wintertime.) I brought Jacob along for the ride to pick up the kids from school one last time, and by the time we made it back on site he was fast asleep, drooling as usual. I handed him off to Sara so I could begin my goodbyes.

First was Mum Jane. I had completely held myself together until she began to cry - then suddenly I couldn't talk. Thoughts were racing through my head about everything I wanted to tell her - how much respect I have for her, how much I wanted to thank her, how much I was going to miss her and the kids, and what an incredible time I'd had - yet all I could choke out was that I loved her.

I went in the next room to find Teresiah and Sheilah standing, watching me blankly as I completely lost my composure. Hugging them and telling them how much I loved them seemed like it wasn't nearly enough knowing that I'm really unaware whether or not I'll ever see them again.

The toddlers were distracted, running around the dorm and having a good time as usual, but adorable little Sharon was kind enough to take a moment and say her goodbyes. Just like each night before bedtime, she took my face and gave me a slobbery kiss on the forehead, on one cheek, and then the other - finishing it with an "Auntie, and me?" Requesting me to return the favor, of course.

Christine was already waiting in the van while I ran up to say one last goodbye to the rest of the girls and all the boys. Then, suddenly, I was on my way home. Of course I was missing it in certain regards - but I still couldn't believe how fast time had gone. It was a strange mixture of so much that had happened within the past six weeks, yet I have no idea where it all fit in.

I tried my best to hold back my tears as our driver, Alex turned to me as we headed back to Nairobi jokingly asking, "Do you want to go home that bad? You spent too much time here, you're so upset!"

I laughed, "Not exactly."

I hope that one day I can return to IAA to see all of the kids again. Ruthie's constantly runny nose, Joy and her "Buddah Belly" and incredible imitations of everything you do, Moses and "how was school?", Lydia's crazy bedtime stories, Milka's dancing, Faith's deep belly laugh, Jacob's drooling and constant need for human contact, and on and on. But I also hope that I can move on to continue to discover people who may be able to use my help even more, and I hope to continue to learn from them and my experiences to come - whatever or wherever they may be.

I miss each and every one of the people I left behind. More than anything else, I miss being able to spend my time constantly loving on the kids. We all need to be loved - it's a given. And it's an incredible feeling to spend your time constantly knowing that you're living to serve and to offer every bit of love that you have for whoever is there to accept it. That doesn't mean it's always easy. When the toddlers start hitting, the older kids stop talking, and the babies start screaming - that love has to come along with a little more patience. But that's why its all a learning experience. And I have a lot left to learn.

Lessos, Mtatus, and Nyama Choma

As my time here in Kenya continues, so do the adventures! On Wednesday, Sara and I decided to ask Mum Jane (who takes care of the babies) if she wouldn’t mind accompanying us to go get some Nyama Choma. It’s a special treat for Kenyans – grilled sheep. Conveniently, there’s a restaurant relatively close that’s apparently famous for its Nyama Choma; and as Mum Jane told us, people will travel all the way from Nairobi to eat there.

So the three of us began walking down the road, each with a baby strapped to our backs Kenyan style in a lesso. Mum Jane had Joy, Sara had hope, and Jacob was with me. At the end of the road, we waited for a mtatu (Kenyan “taxi” vans) to come by, and fortunately one that wasn’t very full showed up almost immediately. We all piled in, twisting the lessos around so the babies were on our laps, and held on for the ride. Kenyan roads are full of potholes. Consequently, drivers are constantly swerving on either side of the road, dodging the holes, going around livestock, and passing slower vehicles. Fortunately our mtatu wasn’t very full, but you can often see them overflowing with passengers packed in as tightly as they’ll fit. (Not so pleasant when it comes to body odor.)

We rode just past Haraka (a town on the way to Njabini where the kids go to school) until we made it to the restaurant. The driver dropped us off past where we needed to be, so we began walking back down the road a ways, and as we traveled along in front of all the shops and businesses we got plenty of stares and laughs. Apparently it’s not a common sight to see two white girls with African babies strapped to their backs. One guy made the comment, “Oh, you have a black baby? How good!”

We finally arrived and ordered a kilo of Nyama Choma for Sara and I, and meat pies for Mum Jane and the toddlers back home. (It still amazes me how cheap food is here – 270ksh for a kilo of meat, that’s only about three dollars!) One of the workers brought out a big chunk of meat and asked for our approval before he chopped it up in front of us. Next we stopped at another stand to get chips (French fries) and then we waited for a ride home.

The first vehicle that stopped was the Tulaga, a bus much bigger than the mtatus. Mum Jane said she’d prefer to wait for a different option so we continued standing on the side of the road while a guy got off the Tulaga that had stopped and approached us. Sara and I were a bit taken aback, not sure how to react to him. He had his face painted with black and white stripes, his two front teeth were painted black, his pants had colored strips of fabric hanging off of them, his oversized shirt was stuffed to give him a beer belly, and the same was done to his pants – giving him a highly oversized rear end. He was acting a bit like a mime, trying to get some kind of reaction out of us by making faces at us and the babies and randomly laughing and dancing around. We waited to see what Mum Jane would do, and she talked to him and told us he was a comedian… though he definitely acted more like the drunk men you can usually come across walking around. When he finally figured out we spoke English, he made a desperate attempt to sell us his CD as everyone else standing nearby laughed at our awkward meeting.

After no mtatus were showing up, we finally decided to take the next Tulaga home. It was more spacey than the mtatu, but it was crowded, full of body odor, and like the mtatu, its walls were covered in advertisements for Eminem and various rappers. After our walk back down the road making up the last leg of the trip, we made it back to IAA. It turned out the shopkeepers had put ketchup on the fries so they were all soggy and half of the Nyama Choma was fat or bone, but the meat was delicious and I’d say it was a pretty successful venture – not too bad for mzungus.

Blessed

I can’t believe it’s been nearly five weeks. It’s hard to explain how days here seem to be so slow, and the concept of time in Kenya is definitely a lot different than anything I’ve experienced in the states, yet time has still gone by so incredibly fast.

Days seem to be becoming a bit of a blur of cleaning, laundry, paperwork, nursery school, and lots of playtime. This past Saturday morning we got to greet the new addition to the livestock living here when Daniel notified me that one of the cows had had her calf the night before. After finishing up laundry with Ann, a bunch of us took several of the toddlers to see the newborn as it wobbled around on its unsteady legs. It was adorable, and so soft, but it took some convincing to get some of the kids anywhere near it – many of them are terrified of most animals. When the very friendly watchdogs Cole and Jinx are lying out on the porch, poor Peter John won’t even step outside, though a few of the younger kids have made it into a bit of a game, yelling “Sa, Sa!” And running after the dogs, proud of themselves shooing away their enemies.

Later on, I had the chance to accompany Donna (a long-term volunteer who’s been here for the past seven years, only leaving every six months as her visa expires), Sara, and Joyce (the nursery school teacher) to the visiting day of six of IAA’s boarders. That afternoon, we loaded up the car with Chipatis, chicken, rice, and some of Jen’s freshly-baked cookies and stopped off to get sodas as well as some beef stew before arriving at Good Shepherd Academy. The lawn in front of their chapel was covered with cars parked with families picnicking and visiting with their students. We found Kennedy, Joseph, Francis, Simon, Kevin, and Grace and propped open the back of the car to serve everyone lunch. All the kids huddled inside for warmth (it was plenty windy and cold) and Sara and I plopped right outside to enjoy our Kenyan meal. It was fun to see the kids, and I only wish I was able to be around when they were home on another one of their offs (I was able to meet them earlier during my trip when they came home for three days, but their two-week break isn’t until the end of July).

Fourth of July felt incredibly unusual this year. Being that it was a Sunday, we enjoyed church with all the neighborhood kids, and after that most of us stayed indoors watching a movie and playing cards where there was a warm fire to help fend off the cold (I taught some of the older kids how to play Egyptian Rat Screw and they get quite the kick out of trying to slap all the “sandwiches” and “doubles” at the right time). So no barbecue, fireworks, or celebrations… but I have to say – I think life here’s a pretty good trade-off, even if we are missing out on the American fun back home.

Yesterday afternoon Sara and I helped out in the nursery school during their “writing” time while Joyce went to the kitchen for prayers with the rest of the IAA staff. The kids are always more wild than usual without her around, so we definitely had our hands full. But I’ve felt that we’ve been able to be more helpful in nursery school recently – with the extra help Joyce is able to split the kids into two groups, one that can do a pretty good job writing out numbers, the alphabet, and even their names, while the other focuses on drawing their ones, zeros, A’s, and shapes.

Suddenly most of them seem to have figured out my name, so every time they decide they need help on something they yell out, “Auntie Carly, Auntie Carly!” over and over and over until I acknowledge them.

When things slowed down a bit later on in the afternoon, Sara and I took Joy and Jacob for a walk down the road. Joy did a great job marching along, pointing at all the cows on the side of the road and asking, “Auntie, doggie?” while Jacob was a trooper, laughing at the dogs who were walking with us while I carried him tied to my back Kenyan style in a lesso.

Its mid-afternoon right now, and this is right about the time things start getting more and more chilly outside. But it’s also getting close to when the big kids get done with school. Recently I’ve had a really good time hitching a ride in the van to pick them up and bring them back to the site. The scenery is green and beautiful along the way, and on the way home we talk about their days or I listen to them sing.

The last few days have included many transitions. We were all sad to see Krisitn leave on Saturday, Donna left yesterday, and we have one new arrival of a visitor who’s only planning on staying for the next week. Its hard knowing that I have such a seemingly short time left here, and I really do wish it would work out to stay longer. But everything happens for a reason, and I know I’ve been so incredibly blessed to be here as long as I have.

Habati!

Friday was a big adventure day in Nairobi. Sara, Kristin, myself, and a couple of other volunteers decided to go to a couple of animal parks in the city. We got up and ready, and with baby Joy along for the fun, we headed out just after nine. It should’ve been about an hour and a half drive into the city – but we had some bumps along the way and didn’t actually make it to our destination until after noon.

First of all, we got pulled over for a police “inspection”. There are typically lots of police checkpoints, where they wave seemingly random cars and mtatus (vans that serve as taxis) over to the side of the road, checking for licenses and stopping people for speeding. But this time, we were asked to use a turn off on the side of the road where there were mtatus, busses, cars, and people everywhere. Our driver, Alex got out of the car to try to talk to a couple of the officials (they’d taken his license so we couldn’t drive off) and we began to wonder how suspicious it must look to be traveling with five white girls and a little African baby. Thankfully, though there were people set up selling roasted maize, candy, sodas, and popcorn to everyone waiting, we managed to get away without much of any inspection after only fifteen minutes or so.

We headed on to the giraffe park in Karen, and thankfully Sara had a vague idea where it was, because it turned out that Alex definitely didn’t. We stopped for directions multiple times, but in the end we arrived and were delighted to get out of the car for a bit. The park is small, it’s set up where you pay a fee to go up a set of stairs to a sort of balcony overlooking an enclosure of giraffes and warthogs. Being so high up, the giraffes are able to reach their heads over the little fence and greet you at about eye level. Joy was fine with the whole situation until Sara reached out her hand to feed one of them. As soon as she came in contact with the massive animal Joy began to scream and scream. But luckily, upon backing away, little Joy calmed down and we all got a chance to feed the giraffes, pet them, and even feed them straight from our mouths. Yeah – a giraffe kiss was quite the experience.

Our next stop was the animal orphanage, a part of the Nairobi National Park. Not long after we entered, Peter, one of the workers, began to show us around the different enclosures (most of which only consisted of a chain-link fence separating us from Cheetahs, Lions, and Hyenas). Sara spoke up quickly and said, “So we’ve heard you’re allowed to pet some of the baby cheetahs…” Peter responded quietly with a quick “Shh! You’re not really allowed to do that, but I’ll see what I can do.”

After continuing a little ways through the park, they took us to one of the enclosures near the back and opened the gate. They hurried us all in, saying “go quickly, go quickly!” We stepped into the cage with a full-grown 13-year-old female cheetah and the workers just casually took our pictures as we pet her and listened to her purring like the typical house cat. She rolled over for a little belly scratch and Joy started to whimper – Sara was quick to cover her mouth before she made too much noise to startle the big cat. We headed out just as the cheetah started to stand up, and as we walked away (and tipped the guys, of course) we were all a bit stunned.

The day continued with a stop at Java House – Kenyan’s American food. When we got back to the site, we had a good time hanging out with the older kids. Jehosephat, one of the oldest boys, has been opening up so much more over the last week or so. Sara and I had a good time playing games with him and a few of the other kids once they’d finished all that they needed to do for the next day. And when him and a few of the boys asked when I’d come back to visit I replied with, “I don’t know, when do you think?” “The day after you leave.” He said. I agree.

I went for a run on Saturday afternoon while the toddlers were napping. I’ve been able to go up and down the bumpy dirt road that leads from the main road to the orphanage, and on the route I pass by several houses of the village kids who go to church at Into Abbas on Sundays. One girl caught me off guard when I noticed half way down the road that she’d joined me and was following close behind. I asked her name, and in surprisingly strong English she told me her name was Gladis. She continued with me (barefoot) nearly the whole time I ran, telling me how she’s the fastest in her class seven, and by the time I finished there were ten or so other kids who’d joined us.

I love the friendliness of Kenya. Of course, it’s not necessarily something you find everywhere you go – but, especially in Kinangop, mzungus (white people) aren’t a very common sight and the kids make a special effort to stop whatever they’re doing and run to the edge of the road to wave and yell “Habati, habati!” (“How are you, how are you?”).

It seems that the whole weekend was full of excitement – and with the U.S. vs. Ghana game, Saturday night was no exception. After most of the kids went to bed, Sara, Kristin, and I joined a few of the Kenyan staff as well as the boys: Moses, Jehosephat, Newton, Johnny, and George to watch the game on the little 13” screen in the back of the church. We all huddled around with our Stoneys, soda we’d bought when we walked to a market, and popcorn Sara made special for the occasion. It was freezing and sad to see the Americans loose, but fun to watch them all see the final African team pull through.

Kibera

On Monday I had the opportunity to meet Kristin’s friend Fred who helps run the Joy Divine Children’s Organization, a boys’ orphanage in Nairobi. He and his friend Kevin picked up Sara, Kristin, and I, and we made the drive into Nairobi to visit both the orphanage as well as Kibera – the largest slum in East Africa. Though the most recent census results aren’t available, people estimate its population is well over one million. Fred introduced us to Beatrice, a woman who is a part of a network between orphanages and schools within the slum, and she was gracious enough to show us three of them.

The environment throughout Kibera was something that’s difficult to describe; even with pictures. We wound around a maze of dirt roads with tin, mud, and lean-to “buildings” lined up along the narrow alleyways. Dogs picked through piles of trash lining any free space, and there seemed to be people everywhere.

The first school we stopped at was a two-story structure with wooden ladders leading up to additional classrooms and bedrooms. It was started by one woman who took in two orphaned babies she’d found on the street. Eventually there were more children, and there was a realization that they needed some form of education if they were to have any hope. But as with most people living in Kibera, few have access to government schooling. Though it’s “free”, parents are responsible to pay for books and uniforms, which don’t necessarily come at an affordable price. The school we were at – as well as the others we visited – was an informal school. They aren’t government funded, or even official schools, but they follow the Kenyan curriculum in hopes that students may be able to test into high school.

When we arrived, the children were having their lunch break. They were all served beans and maize (ugali is given each day for dinner). Besides finding the funding for food and basic medicines, we were told that one of the greatest challenges the group faces is holding on to staff members. They are paid little, if anything… so if they do come through as volunteers, many don’t stay more than a matter of months or a few years.

This particular school is serving over three hundred students. They had kids sleeping on three-tier bunk beds with four or five of them sharing one twin-sized mattress. It was incredible to see the sheer mass of need these people have. They were hoping for any kind of help – pencils, school supplies, medicines, anything.

The second school we saw was constructed of mud and wood structures with a second story where many of them slept on mats with one or two blankets on them. The rooms were tiny, and the entire place had a particular stench that took a little bit of getting used to. But like everywhere else we visited, the kids were shy yet happy to see us. Excited, they greeted our hellos with “habati!”

The last informal institution we saw was the largest. With classrooms in colorfully painted containers, it had 450 students on-site (with 13 staff members), and the headmaster kept stressing that there were more who wanted to come, but there was simply no more space.

The whole scene was overwhelming. It’s difficult to even comprehend how many people are living in the conditions we were seeing. Few if any of them have access to clean water, and crime and violence is a major issue. Government housing is being built around parts of the slum’s perimeter in an effort to keep it from expanding farther while providing better living environments, but we were told that many people who move into the housing aren’t used to the style of living and end up back in the slums where they grew up.

It’s hard to imagine a change to a problem so big – the idea of finding a sustainable means of help that would truly make a difference seems nearly impossible. Yet that’s the key. These people really do need help, but they’re in need of more than just school supplies here or there or some trash clean-up crews. I really believe organizations like these informal schools are offering hope for something more in the future.

Once we were finished in Kibera, we headed to Joy Divine, the orphanage Fred is connected with. The set up is quite a bit different than Into Abbas Arms, with ten or so more kids and all of them boys – with the youngest being six years old. It’s a two-story building set up with three staff workers who take care of the laundry, cooking, and housework. Before we headed out, Fred and his mother (the orphanage’s founder) were gracious enough to serve us a delicious meal of stew, greens, and chipati – my favorite!

Back here at IAA, the weather seems to be getting a little colder as each day goes on. (At night, Sara, Kristin, and I have a good time gearing up with layers of socks and long sleeves under our pile of blankets on each of our beds.) The other day, Anne taught a few of us to do laundry by hand, though it was inconvenient that it started raining that afternoon so we all made the mad dash outside to collect as much as we could from the lines before they were completely soaked.

One of my favorite places to be during the day is the “upper” kitchen, where all the Kenyans cook for the staff as well as the older kids. There’s nearly always something to be doing - whether it’s washing dishes, cleaning, chopping, or sorting some type of bean, potato, carrot, or cabbage. And with all the cooking going on, its also one of the warmest places on site, which is a definite bonus! All the women who work here come in and out between their jobs throughout the day, and though I definitely can’t understand the conversations they have among themselves, I love the environment. They are so happy to be doing what they’re doing, they’re relaxed, and some of the sweetest, most friendly people I’ve ever met. This is something I’ve been fortunate to witness often throughout Kenya. People are so happy to have what they’re given, and both here and at the slums, they praise God for what they have and use every effort to give all that they can to make a difference in so many kids’ lives. And much of what they’re doing is hard work. Like Lydia told me today while we were mopping, Kenyans do everything with their hands.

When the older kids are around in the evenings, I’m still loving providing some homework help, or just a fun chat if need be. Last night I was helping Sheilah (a sixth grader and the oldest girl living here on site) out with some of her math homework, and when we finished she took it upon herself to give me some homework to do myself. I now have a list of twenty or so words in Kiswahili with a little note at the bottom, “you have to know all these words”. I’m sure she’ll be checking up on my progress.

Adventures in Nursery School

For Kristin and I, this weekend was safari time. Now I was definitely excited about the opportunity, and I was so happy to be going, but what we experienced was far beyond what I’d expected. We made the nearly seven-hour drive to the Masai Mara reserve, bordering Tanzania. During our first drive on Saturday evening, the whole thing started to hit me. The scenery around us was one of the most beautiful things I’ve seen in my life – with open plains stretching farther than our eyes could see and huge thunderheads splotched across the bright blue sky (not to mention the giraffe silhouettes dotting the horizon). We got to see just about everything on the reserve, from lion prides feet from our car, to a baby rhino and a heard of elephants – again, literally right outside the window.

Being at a resort for the weekend was a really strange experience. It was a really nice place and everything, but it was difficult not to think about how different life is for locals. The Masai people live in dung-huts with stick barriers creating a little village around them – and of course, back in Nairobi, the overcrowding and pollution is inescapable. It was a good breather, and a chance to mentally re-load, but we were so excited to get back home to the kids Monday afternoon.

Being back, this has been my second week helping “Auntie Joyce” at the nursery school. She teaches about 25 two, three, and four-year-olds from IAA and the surrounding villages in a dirt floor tent that’s set up at the end of the soccer field that’s here on site. I have so much respect for what she does!

The kids start school at 8:30, and after repetition of words, the alphabet, or flashcards, there’s time for “writing” before their chai tea break. All of the toddlers are at completely different learning levels. Many of them barely understand any English and speak even less, and while some can pretty accurately write out the alphabet or numbers from one to one hundred, others sit and struggle with drawing the letter “A”. Of course, teaching and communicating is much easier when you speak the same language as the student, but with lots of trial and error, I can’t explain the feeling of success when one of them pulls through!

This morning, I headed down to the nursery around 10, hoping to be of some help, and it turned out that Joyce was getting ready to head out with the big kids to their performance in a nearby city for African Children’s Day. She asked if I’d be able to stay with the kids, and after my “of course!” I made a quick dash for backup. Sara and Kristin joined me shortly after and we tried to lead the kids through words and vocab, the alphabet song (much cuter Kenyan style), and some writing. After chai, we broke out a giant coloring book and faced some exciting challenges being a few pages short. By the kids’ lunch time at one, we were all exhausted and trying desperately to keep them under control while breaking up disputes, drying tears, and “teaching”, though its debatable whether they actually learned much other than that when the muzungus (white people) are the ones doing the teaching, there isn’t much order!

We found ourselves making lots of use of the words “kuja happa” (come here), “hapana” (no), and “keti” (sit). After lunch the kids living at IAA had their naps and we headed back out to the field to have the village kids do the same. We rounded them up in the church, and with determined “wee wee, lala!” (you, sleep!), we attempted to get them to nap but definitely didn’t do a very successful job. Sara went to ask if the children were to head home at three or three-thirty, and Daniel told her, “the language is very difficult and the children are tired – let them go free!” Only two of the kids had fallen asleep.

Well, regardless of whether or not they were tired – I know I was exhausted. I find myself praying for patience throughout the day, especially when orders to “make a line” or “be nice” only result in the kids repeating what you say, having no clue what it means. I feel like they’re teaching me a lot more about myself than they’re probably learning about the English language, but hey… maybe that’s a good thing.

Things have been a little thrown off with the medical team around; the toddlers don’t have school since their “classroom” tent is being used as an exam room and there are suddenly an extra twenty mouths to feed. Yesterday I began giving the toddlers a tour of all the excitement going on throughout the site in hopes that their curiosity would be eased a bit and they might be less inclined to run out of the house and into the makeshift medical ward unaccompanied. But since Mum Jane was busy taking baby Hope through the medical exam herself, I went off to watch babies Jacob and Joy for a bit. They must be somewhere near the cutest things on the planet.

Joy’s gotten to the stage of repeating everything she hears, in her own version of Swahili/baby talk, of course. She’s constantly moving around and if you don’t keep an eye on her, she’ll sneak her way around the living room’s couch barrier and dash for the kitchen or the door.

Jacob has a smile that makes me melt, and it’s always accompanied by a nearly constant stream of drool dripping from his lip. He’s not quite talking yet, but he loves to imitate Mum Jane singing “Aaaaaamen!” Even more than Joy, Jacob’s constantly on the move. He can’t seem to sit still ever! I was just being told the other day how he, now about 15 months, arrived at IAA at only 2 pounds.

Hope is the youngest of the babies, they think she’s just over a year – but like Jacob, she was tiny when she arrived and she’s still so small for her age. She’s much more quiet than the other two, and she hasn’t quite gotten the hang of walking, but it definitely won’t be long!

In the evening I helped Terrecia and Johnny with some math homework before bed time. The big kids coming home is definitely one of the highlights of my day. Don’t get me wrong, I LOVE the babies and toddlers, but the older company definitely helps to keep my sanity, even if it does mean revisiting my junior high math days.

Today we made another visit to the market, and it was exhausting. (Bartering isn’t always as easy as it sounds!) And as fun as it was, I was relieved to make it home to the kids. Not long after dinner, I had just gotten into a card game with the girls when the power went out (not an uncommon occurrence here). There was plenty of screaming, tackling , and pillow throwing. George finally found a flashlight and it didn’t take long before he and a few others huddled around and helped Lucy finish her homework. As cute as it was, it didn’t last for too long and the playing in the dark continued.

By the time the lights came back on and we were getting the toddlers ready for bed, everyone seemed exhausted and most of them were in tears. But it was a fun night, and something a bit out of the ordinary. The kids didn’t have as much homework as usual (of course, they still do have school tomorrow…) and playing is always more fun than homework – duh.