For the past two days, I've had a lot of time to think about the value and beauty of this work here in Kenya. Things are such that this luxury of having time to process and revel in the new is, well... new to me. There are no battles to fight, only negotiating and discussion and development of ideas. No corruption, just bargaining and rejection of unsound solutions. No helplessness to conquer, initiating of plans and solutions instead. No fighting between staff. No stealing from the children. No tears that cannot be wiped away with a kiss.
The teachers at Ereteti have been extremely validating and supportive of WWC and the children. Normally, the six little ones are dismissed at 1:00pm daily. They were transitioned to Ereteti on September 1st, and I have been told that they are far behind. In the past, I was never given the time of day at Ereteti. Until now. No longer the enemy, the teachers are full of information and smiles. They want to help in any way they can. The pre-unit teacher, in fact, is staying after school with our 6 little ones, so that she can bring them up to speed, so that they may transfer to the next grade in January. They're a smart bunch of kids, each of them. The school recognizes this, and also recognizes that Pauline is keen on supplementing them where necessary. Thus, they all return back to WWC together, at 4:15pm.
Teamwork. It's all about teamwork here. There is a real sense of unity here, an enthusiasm for the common denominator: the children. The sum is greater than the parts. Everyone covers for everyone else. The lines of each job are not so well defined that the staff are afraid to cross these lines. I have been in Kenya long enough to know that this is unusual. In fact, it is rare.
Teamwork is what makes a team work.
Our team has spent the past two days together preparing for tomorrow and the future. I honor what my staff has to say, they are the experts here. Pauline is nothing short of exceptional, a woman with vast knowledge of orphanages and rescue centers. Tony is a superior manager. He will tolerate no nonsense and has a keen sense if something is 'off'. He acts quickly and accordingly. He reports to me regularly and thoroughly, and leaves nothing behind.
I must confess one thing, however. I'm not sure I can honor my staff's insistence that I perform the greatest honor of all tomorrow: to slaughter the lamb. I have cringed, laughed, walked away with my hands over my ears, come back with them over my eyes, professed horror - all to fits of laughter. I'll sleep on it tonight, but I just don't know if I have it in me. Joshua said so simply: "Auntie Simmie, you must."
"It is tradition. Utamaduni."
Joshua, in the green shirt below:
We have had the best two days. Yesterday, Tony and I got caught in a massive thunderstorm and downpour on the way back to the home. We are in a serious drought, so the kind of rains we experienced are what make up flash floods. We got to our road, which was under water. Our van was stuck in the soil 1/4km up our road, so Tony and I went to pick up the children instead. 21 of us in his vehicle. I used to shudder at the danger of this. No longer. "Kids, line up. Largest ones in first, toto's last." What can I say, it works! We are praying that there is no rain tomorrow, just tomorrow. Our road is impassible in the rain.
Thomas, in the shamba, with the "Popo" tree (papaya!) Yes, there is drought, but we are using water for the plants. We must.
Watermelon!!
Things are looking just great. Thanks, Bernard. Bernard manages to protect us, paint where necessary, fix everything and tend to our shamba.
As you can see, the kids are still wearing their smiles over their trophies. So are the rest of us. I am so proud, I could burst.
Good night from East Africa. All is great, just fabulous! With a team like this, great things will continue to happen. It is my privilege to be a part of this organization.
Tuonane kesho ~
Simmie and the kids
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