Red Out Loud

From last night…..

I wrote too quickly today. What I meant to say was that I was astounded. I was astounded by the people that I met and the children that I saw, the ride to and from, the people of the city walking to and from their jobs or farms or trading posts, barefoot, through fields and on busy roads. Person after person. Women with babies hanging off of their backs, slung by only heavy scarf. Men on bikes with large packages, so heavy, the bikes nearly toppling over from the weight.

We arrived at Console homes to be greeted by a friendly man named Alfred and his wife Janelle who manage the facility. The facility is comprised of cement structures, two classrooms for the after school program and two nursery school programs a building with 3 rooms that act as offices and one gogo room, this room is the grandmothers room, where they store, create and teach pot making, a trade or an art, in my opinion, passed from generation to generation.

Women are included in the process. The mothers of many of the children are sought out, brought in to be a part of the culture at this home, plant, receive psycho social support and in turn support the idea of their children learning. I found out today that this donated school is not highly respected by many parents, they prefer to have their children close to home for work. They don’t value education.

The Orphans Union Association provides orphans a youth group of sorts where they are encouraged to discuss issues they have as orphans within the community and government. A group of mature individuals who know not what they are missing, they come barefoot and dirty and discuss how they can better their lives and more so how they can bring their message to others. This union was started by two of the original students at consol homes, Timothy and Hawa, they still work there as teachers and counselors. They are incredible, bright smiles, brilliant and so warm to these children. Both incredibly inspiring leaders. Hawa had the most beautiful smile and bountiful giggle! I hope to see her again while we are here.

The children are almost impossible to speak of. They are 3-5 year olds who just as the toddlers you meet in America, have no reason to hate at all. Open minds and hearts. They have bugs flying around their mouths, they have no shoes, their clothes are ripped. But they sing with such energy, power and contentment. They run and play and follow their teacher. Completely obedient. They gravitated towards me  as most toddlers do and before I knew it I was feeding one, holding the hands of two others and being hugged by another. We played catch, ring around the rosie, duck duck goose, simon says. They sang native songs for us and before I knew it were off. Just like that, they run off to where they come from, whether from small huts or the orphanage, some with parents, others without, they disperse. And they come back again the next day.

The classroom was beautiful in its simplicity, exploring all necessary elements of toddlerhood, from nature, to color, to blocks, to dramatic play. I can not wait to build our classroom up in Tiyabwe Nawo. We will model out of the one we were privy to today.

The mothers who came in the afternoon took time, in the pouring rain, to show us how they literally till the earth, with hoes that seem to have been made centuries ago, women as old as my own grandmother barefoot in the mud preparing the field for sweet potato crop, I could not believe my eyes. How their bodies moved with agility and grace.

The most impressive thing for me today was watching the teachers, the administrators, two who graduated from this program almost 6 years ago, Hawa and Timothy, coming back to do the work that helped them so much. And then there were the volunteers. Here I am volunteering. Leaving my cushy life in NY to learn about simpler people who are so poor their bellies bulge and their clothing is torn, to help them.  Yet here they are, helping one another, for no charge at all. Sinfully poor, yet happy and helpful and giving back. Help is a desire motivated naturally here. Joanna pointed out that sometimes poor and impoverished in the United States are the most violent and crime ridden. But these people are more impoverished than any human beings we know and they are warm and open hearted. Perhaps it is simply because they just have NO idea what they are missing, or perhaps they don’t miss it at all. I wondered what they thought of me, in my sneakers and my poncbo, as they stood in pouring rain, barefoot, playing ball, singing and planting.

NOW IT IS OFF TO THE VILLAGE!