Family

The kids were looking forward today like no other.  They have technically not been out of the compound, other than going to school, since I left in February. Nagolie has been a virtual prison to them - unnecessarily so.  So when Cary and I told them we would be spending the day at Whistling Thorns today, they were absolutely elated.  Everyone was ready for the 1km walk when we arrived at the home this morning.

I had spoken with Helen about Kanai, a 15 year old boy, who left to go back to his home so that he could be with his sick sister.  Kanai had come to Whistling Thorns on my first morning, to tell me what he was headed home to Magadi, 80km away. I could not advise Kanai not to leave.  It wouldn't have mattered.  He had his mind made up.  As Helen and I were discussing the children yesterday, I told her about Kanai, and asked her if she would be willing to take him back.  He has been traumatized, I told her.  If you do not allow him back in the home, he will have no choice but to stay with his abusive brother, both of his parents are deceased. Helen then agreed, and promised me that she would be gentle with Kanai. He needs guidance.

What I didn't know was Kanai had also gone back home for his ritual circumcision.  He was too embarrassed to admit this, I believe.  What choice did he have?

Today, the kids were having a wonderful time in the pool, while their feast of kuku and nyama choma was being prepared in the fire pit.  I did not tell the children that Kanai was on his way back.  I had paid for a driver to collect him, because the roads to his home were completely washed out due to the rains.  There was no matatu (bus) service.  Upon arrival, I watched the children greet Kanai, as if he was their long lost brother.  It had only been 2 weeks since he left, but when these things happen, the children never know how the story will end.  Will he come back?  Will we ever see him again?  Our family is not complete.  I watched this scenario with a heavy heart, and admiration.  All I could think about was the impact these separations have on the children.  One child leaves, and a piece of the puzzle is missing.  A piece of each child dies, I am afraid.  Their unit is completely and utterly disrupted.  Once again, witnessing this scene was the shot in the arm I needed to keep up the battle.  Right then, Emmanuel showed up with his sister, cousins and aunts - all of whom I had invited the day before. All the children lit up as they were back together again.  The mood was light, gleeful and joyous.

I will fight tooth and nail to ensure that these children stay together.  Yes, the fight is tough, exhausting and extremely emotional.  But it is worth every second. When Emmanuel told us how lonely he is, that it is difficult for him to make friends at his 'home' over this school holiday, because he misses his siblings so much, I wanted to cry.  "Nagolie has always been my home.  I miss my family".  The system has not been the children's friend.  Agnes has not made it easier either. On the contrary.  Emmanuel left the home without fully developed emotional skills.  He certainly does not have any physical skills, because Agnes prohibited him and all the children from learning anything outside of school.  For the last year, they have all been living in a virtual prison.  I must continue every effort to transition the children into WatotoWorld.  The clock is ticking, however, and I am starting to come to terms with the reality that this is not going to happen on this trip.  Time moves at a glacial pace here in Kenya.  No one is in a hurry to do ANYTHING.  Rushing creates stonewalling, exactly what I want to avoid.

I have given myself a deadline to complete the application process by this Thursday.  While I have not spoken to Lucas yet, we will discuss how far we can go with the DO until we must resort to leaving this situation in his hands.  Right now, I do not see another option. 

We spent a great afternoon together, despite my heavy heart.  Cary and I are sharing these feelings, and thankfully have one another to bounce around ideas  suggestions, worries and emotions.  We are both frustrated by a real lack of justice and cooperation from disinterested and obstructionist authorities.  Watching these children interact with us and one another creates great incentive, but it hurts.  It hurts not knowing where or how this is going to end.

Good night from Kenya ~

Simmie and Linet