in awe

When I met with my professor about the orphanage I’m working at here in Accra she mentioned a childrens home she had done work with in Volta Region that would be great to check out. This last weekend (now two weekends ago) myself and 3 other girls trekked up to Kpando to visit Hardt Haven Children’s Home; a home for HIV+ children.

It was about a 4 hour tro-tro ride up to Kpando where Edem, the director, picked us up from the station. He took us up to a look-out over Lake Volta, the second largest man made lake in the world. It was an absolute beautiful view over one of the fishing villages on the outskirts of Kpando. He also bought us water and “officially welcomed” us, as he said was custom in the Volta Region. Edem told us all about the orphanage; he said there are 20 children staying at the home and about 15 or so others within the village that the program aids. However, no one in the community knows that it is a home for HIV/AIDS children because of the stigma that comes along with it. He said it is so bad that a mother would disown her child if she knew she was carrying it. Edem also runs a number of other youth empowerment and community action organizations throughout the region. He said he has a blessing; to not run out of energy, to not get tired. That’s how he is able to do all of this. He was pretty powerful.

The children were beautiful. It would be a lie to say I wasn’t a little apprehensive about spending a couple days with kids who were HIV+. I’d never been around someone, knowingly at least, who was and in my ignorance I didn’t know what to expect. But my heart was stolen by these lively, mischievous, adorable children.

I was struck by the functioning community that was taking place behind the walls of the home. The older children kept a watchful eye on the smaller ones and were quick to step in to reprimand if someone crossed the line. The older girls, who were probably 13 or 14 years old each have a baby that they are in charge of: they feed them, bathe them, dress them, and when leaving the compound carry the child on their back. It’s a lot of responsibility for a young teenager.

It was strange seeing these children screaming and running and laughing and playing knowing that somewhere inside of them there was a disease that was trying to win out. Trying to beat them at their own life. It was strange knowing that Donkor, who I played football with, and Paulie, who was my church buddy, both almost died the week before because of something they were born with. The vivacity and resilience of children will never cease to amaze me.

Wisdom was the tiniest, most fragile 1 year old I’d ever seen, but he would curl up in my arms as I bounced him around the yard when he was upset. Christopher’s best friend was food they said. I believed it. He was the cuddliest, fluffiest little guy and it pained me to see the bowed legs he hobbled on, that could have been addressed with proper care. Paulie and Nancy were beautiful little girls and reminded me so much of my sisters: both in their own little worlds with very set ideas of how things are supposed to happen, always curious. And always lauging.

But it was the older boys who really made my heart throb. Donkor and Israel were both very handsome and proud 11/12 year olds. They walked a very fine line being tough preteen boys and loving and caring big brothers. But despite the tough front they put on, the brotherly protectiveness always seemed to win out. Which hurt because they shouldn’t have to do that; there should be a parent of some nature there to take on that role, allowing them to be little boys like I thought they should be. But then I am reminded that my idea of normal applies to no one other than myself, and even that is questionable. I pity these children because they have no parents, yet they are so thankful to have been blessed with each other.

That night Edem put us up in a guest room he has at the hospital and then came and picked us up the next morning for church. Natalie and I walked with 10 kids in tow back over to the hospital where Mass was being said. I was so impressed by how quiet and attentive the children were, especially given that we could not even see the priest. None of us wanted to leave that afternoon, but we said our goodbyes knowing we’d be back soon.

Whenever we travel East of Accra our ritual coming home is to stop at the Mall and drag our haggard, worn out selves in to the coffee shop for the rare treat of a blended coffee. It’s pretty much amazing.

I clearly have more to catch up on, as this all took place about two weeks ago. But I told myself I needed to get one done..and here it is…will follow with a shorter update for the last week and half.

peace and love