Back to the Watoto: Run-ins

My first stop this morning was Satellite Supermarket. It was no surprise to me that my credit had not been issued. I told them I would be back in the afternoon, as they assured me my credit would hit my bank by 2:00pm. Sawa sawa. It wasn't.

Margaret is the oldest child in the home. Her education has been sponsored by a complete stranger, through a church she went to 4 years ago. I was here at the time, but never really got the full story until today. She told me she has not met this sponsor, but he committed to four years at an all girl's private boarding school, one hour from here. As an aside, Agnes told me back in April she had no money, because Margaret's sponsor dropped out, and she was left paying the bill. Sometimes her lies are so egregious that I am left speechless.. this was one of them.

We arrived at Green Garden School right on time. Someone pointed me in the direction of the auditorium, where I stood, looking for Margaret. In a sea of khaki pants, green tops and red ties, I couldn't find her. She, however, saw my white arm on the door and flew at me with a gusto I have never seen. We both cried like babies. I adore Margaret. She is a pensive and quiet observer who does not suffer fools. She is savvy, bright, responsible and wise beyond her years. She and her sister Lydia are two very exceptional young ladies, with enormous potential. I had heard it was her birthday, so I presented her a new watch, two two bangles and a lipstick, in a shiny gold pouch. She was thrilled, and talked non-stop the entire way back to Nagolie. It isn't often I get to spend time with the kids, one-to-one, so this time with Margaret was a gift.

When we returned to the home, Dennis was there. GAI. The man has no shame. I didn't hire him, so I can't fire him. 'Pastor' Dennis, as the kids call him, started to tell me I am going to be saved, that Jesus loves me and I will be rewarded blah blah blah. Spare me. I held my hand up, as if to say 'STOP'. I was disgusted with him, and equally disgusted that he was back at the home. The only good thing is that the kids don't know what transpired the day before.

I saw the office door open (the elusive key has been handed over to me for the duration of my visit) and saw Njau sitting behind the desk. I saw him before he saw me, so the shock that registered on his face wiped out the shock I felt inside. Njau is a horrible 60 year old man, not because he stole money from me two years ago. He is mentally cruel to the children, beat them often and when he felt like it, so they rightfully fear and despise him. We made small talk, as I refused to show this man any emotion about his presence.

There are too many stories to tell about Njau. But once he was gone, and I had the key, Lucy, Grace and Anne came into the office, shut the door and started to cry. These three girls are the ones who were treated at the hospital and told to stay home all week to recover. Grace immediately began to repeat the conversation the four of them had. In a nutshell, he accused them of being degenerates, and told them he would call their extended families (all are total orphans) to come pick them up and take them out of the home permanently (with their brothers). They began sobbing as they recounted the conversation, some of which is too brutal to repeat in this blog. They begged me not to share any of this, which I will honor. Terrified and sad, I calmed them down and assured them that none of his threats would come to fruition; if there was any inkling that that these threats would be acted upon, I would tell Agnes I am pulling out of the home, and would leave the country immediately. We talked about their fears, and how important it is for them never to give power to someone like Njau. This is what he thrives on, and they need not contribute to it, or give him the satisfaction he seeks. After two hours, the girls were laughing again, while I was left with a pit in my stomach. Mission accomplished.

In the meantime, two more bunk beds I had made were delivered by my friend Mutinda today. The boys now have a full home, and each child has their own bed. This is a first, and cause for celebration!

The other good news is I hired 2 fundi to repair the leaky roof, which was completed at the end of the day. It is raining buckets as I write this, so I am anxious to hear if the home remained dry this evening.

We all ended the day playing with balloons, cards, beads and football. I watched the children. marveling at the depth of their love for one another, and their resiliency. In the end, they know they have one another, and me. I say this, because it has become increasingly apparent how unified we are, as a family. They are open, loving and honest with me. I am Mama Simba when I am angry at those who dare to abuse them, and Mama Africa the rest of the time. Funny thing is, when Mama Simba appears, they beam with pride. Go figure.