So Kenya is providing me with so many weird stories that I don’t know where to start.
For example last night I met an Irish priest named Father Jack who is violently anti-religion, and at one point said-and I quote- “Jesus just got a little over excited” when I asked about Jesus destroying vendor stalls in Jerusalem.
I was also baptized with beer last night, but that’s another story.
In real news Mama Michelle will be bringing her nephew here by Tuesday and he will be in school by next week as will Davin.
For those of you who are out of the loop Davin and Junior, Junior is the boy (who named these kids?), are two orphans that Mama Michelle has been trying to get in school here for years but didn’t have the money to. So thank you to all who are helping get these kids, I wish I could explain how astronomically changed these kids lives have changed for the better.
But no more need to talk about past victories time for present problems. Such as my need to find a sponsor for a senior here to go to Narok college or my search for funding for a school for HIV orphans. Any ideas? If yes please tell me.
My father has started a website smallplanetbigplans.com that should have a paypal account so everyone who felt moved to help could donate money.
It’s amazing how little money can go so far here. Yesterday a girl came to my office hysterical about not being able to afford a sweater for her school uniform. The cost you ask? 100 keyan shillings. That’s about a $1.70 so your aware.
It’s hard sometimes to stop myself from just giving money away. Really hard.
Particularly because I feel like such a pseudo-mommy here. I thought it would take awhile for the kids to warm up to me and talk about real issues, but it was like the second someone said guidance and counseling the flood gates opened. I feel like these kids don’t get asked how they think or feel ever and so the idea that there was someone who’s specific purpose was to just listen to them was mind-blowing. A kind of intimacy that is unfamiliar on both sides has been created and become strong enough that kids come to me not just when they are upset but to share things about a good day or when they don’t feel well or they just want to sit.
It’s a strange feeling to be so needed and wanted by so many. It makes me terrified of failure. And when I say terrified I mean keeps me up at night scared. I would face a million armed muggers if it meant I wouldn’t fail these kids.
Also could people send old books? The kids are literature deprived and I want to start a small library.
So my office just filled with kids cause it’s porridge time so I need to sign off.
Love love love love love you