I
have made some pretty funny promises in my life. But my recent one to an orphan named Emmanuel
really came back to bite me… and I am not in the business of breaking promises
to orphans.
Meet Emmanuel. Emmanuel
is a perfectly perfect twelve year old boy.
I love him dearly. Emmanuel and
six other boys became too old to stay at their home orphanage in the city last year.
The orphanage houses all children below ten and only teenage girls. When the boys get too old at this particular
home, they are sent to other orphanages.
This is an attempt to keep poorly supervised teen boys separate from
poorly supervised teen girls. While these policies seem very appropriate, it
often separates siblings. In Emmanuel’s
case, no home could be found for them.
They waited for months until suddenly one morning in February they were
told, “You’re leaving within the hour. Pack yourselves and get ready.”
In
an atypical move, the boys were shipped out of the city to a village an hour
away. Each boy lost at least one
sibling, and in one case, two twins were separated for the first time in their
lives. Heartbroken is a placid word
here for orphans whose only concept of family centered around a brother or
sister. Most of these boys had lived
their whole life in the city and went through a great deal of change in
schooling, language, and lifestyle as a result of their new surroundings. The transition was not easy, but the hardest
part for many seemed to be their split with siblings.
In
March we took a bus of orphans from the city orphanage out to the village to
reunite everyone. Though not all of the
children were allowed to come, it was an amazing magical day for those
involved. We had a picnic, played
together and toured the boys’ new home. But
the day was short and the boys have not seen their siblings since. This is where Emmanuel comes in…
Emmanuel
is not a drama queen; he is not loud.
Whenever I visit his orphanage, he clings to me and bawls. Quiet,
streaming tears, from the time I come to the time I leave. And always, always,
he asks about his sister. In November,
with happy gracious permission of the head nun, I promised a crying Emmanuel
that I would pick him up two weeks later to take him back to the city to visit
his old orphanage. Before I had even left
the property, all six other boys had surrounded us, wanting to come, too. How were their brothers? How were there
sisters? Oh they had to go! More promises were made.
When
I returned to the city and spoke to a number of individuals to orchestrate
another magical day, I hit a brick wall.
Not only was it clear I could not bring my 7 kids in to visit, but it
was clear I could not get their siblings out.
I’m going to save the discussion on spite for another time, but let me
just say that I have never seen it so greatly as in the hands of a few powerful
orphanage “mothers” who have little skill at mothering. We could not disappoint these kids. I had to keep my word.
“Make
plan,” we call it in Zim. Go another
route, find another way.
We
headed back to the orphanage an hour away.
We refused to not keep our promise and have seven boys waiting for our
non-arriving car. We spoke to Emmanuel
again, this time promising a day full of surprises if he could only wait an
extra week. We returned to the city. Then
we scrambled.
Putting
together a large Christmas party at the school was not hard, but it was
rushed. We transported every child we
could from the city orphanage in the name of a Christmas party… but little did
any orphan know that some of their brothers and sisters would be waiting at the
party to spend the afternoon with them!
A
tiny promise snowballed into an exhausting party for one hundred hungry,
excited children. But I can’t think of a
better reason to have a Christmas party.
Biggest
thanks to our friend Laura, who helped with every item, to the Mullen family
for four extra hours of driving and a donation of one hundred ice cream cups, to
the many people who donated a fantastic spread of food and supplies, and to
those who shared their time and open arms. Here are some pictures of one special day:
Emmanuel, Jonas, and Lovemore
We had a little time to spare before the party, so we took our seven to a special play-place called Tamba-Tamba. Though the boys should be on the cusp of being too old, they had a blast experiencing something so new and foreign to them.
The boys had been doing gardening chores all morning at the orphanage until our arrival. We filled their stomachs as soon as possible.
What a great time. Our seven: Tawanda, Munashe, Lovemore, Emmanuel, Tristen, Kudakwashe, and Reason
Reuniting at the school in the name of a Christmas party.
Friend Gil and her favorites spend some quality time together.
Want to hear a horrible story? The little boy pictured above in the striped blue shirt, Samuel, became an orphan as an infant when his mother died. But he was not at the orphanage last year at this time because the lucky guy had been adopted! His adopted mother then died a few months ago. Uggh. And now here he is. Back again. Orphaned twice.
The kids ate and ate and ate. No matter now much we brought, I knew there would be no leftovers!
Full tummies on the menu!
Julie, Luke, and Amy shelter under the cafeteria roof during our 15 minutes of rain.
Emmanuel and his sister
