Kaziba

I'm nearing the end of tales from Congo, but can't imagine a better one than this. I went to the Kaziba orphanage on Saturday. It was a long, quite bumpy three and a half hours to get there. (Yes, I said five hours in an earlier post; it wasn't until we were leaving that I realized I had that number wrong.) We traveled out of Bukavu proper, through Essence (which reminded me a lot of the shantytowns I've seen in Mexico--poorly made structures nearly on top of each other, people everywhere selling any item you might imagine, cars and trucks and motorcycles jockeying for a position on the road. I wish I had a picture to share, but Congolese people don't like to have their picture taken without being asked and it just wasn't appropriate at the time. Not long after Essence, however, everything changes. Suddenly you're away from the chaos of urban life and into the country. You might see huts, varying in shape depending on the tribe which built them. Green hills/mountains punctuate the skyline. And people are far more spread out and you can see them carry water or wood or lots of other things on their head. It fits more of the stereotypical "Africa" of National Geographic.

And then, and then, there's the orphanage. From the moment I arrived, I saw people excited to see us. The term "muzungu" (which I think means white person, but might mean foreigner) isn't used. "Le blanc" is. It might not matter, but since "muzungu" had taken on slightly negative connotation for me, it was a relief to be called something else which clearly had no negative associations for the kids or the staff there. I walked in and saw happy kids who looked healthy. There was laughter. We were welcomed kindly. The mamas were so excited by the formula and bumbo chairs; not an hour later the latter were all in use. I got to train the women and the director on heel cord stretching. Ironically, because there are now more women to care for the kids they are now out of bed a lot more and I was hard-pressed to find a child that actually needed their heel cords stretched. I finally found one, but decided that this was a good "problem" to have. But the best part of the day was playing with the kids. They just want to be loved and held. It didn't matter that we couldn't communicate verbally; their body language was quite clear. As an aside, it reminded me of when I went to Mexico in high school to do Vacation Bible School with my church. Being surrounded by kids and spending time with them changed me then, as it did now.

The kids looked well, which is a huge change from a few months ago. When my friend Holly began going in February the children were extremely malnourished. She has raised money to help buy formula and milk powder for the orphanage and it has literally changed their lives. I am so honored that I got to see the kids and to hold them. I'm equally honored to have brought the gifts (formula and bumbo seats) many of you sent with me. Thank you for partnering with me; I can, without doubt or hesitation, say that you are making a huge difference in their lives.

There is a hope to start a 501c3 which will focus on helping kids in eastern Congo, including these. Let me know if you might be interested in being involved.

Although the drive was exhausting (and I started each time we saw a soldier with a gun), I am so glad I traveled to Kaziba. It made me realize that you can make a difference and that, the world around, kids want to be loved. It was a great day.