Yesterday afternoon our friend Isack met us at the hotel and took us over to the Tuleeni Orphanage. Isack is a very rare person, and I don't even know how to begin to describe him. I have never seen someone give so much time and energy to the people that need it most. He is the master of many projects, and one of those projects is working with the children at Tuleeni.
If you want to meet orphans in Tanzania, you will find the worst of the worst at Tuleeni. By that I mean living hand to mouth and having so little, though they are incredibly sweet and happy children. When we first walked in I was instantly drawn to a little girl named Queen. She's 5 years old (or so we were told) and found abandoned at a church a while back. For 5 years old she is TINY. Her arms were about as big around as two of my fingers. She looked so fragile. He voice was tiny to match, but her smile and laughter was enormous. It broke my heart to see her. We spent a couple hours over at Tuleeni and brought a suitcase of clothing for the children. They are not nearly as funded as Upendo. In fact, I don't think they are funded much at all. They were very welcoming, and invited us back on Saturday for their Valentine's day party. I am really looking forward to that.
This morning was pretty busy. We had to run into town to buy some last minute things: School books and workbooks for Hamisi, backpacks for three of the children, and a load of groceries for Hamisi's family. We are becoming much more efficient with all of these things, and managed to get done with enough time for a cup of coffee before meeting with Living.
He came to the hotel around noon as usual, and we took off for Majengo. Hamisi's mother met us at Jiendeleze. We had her meet there because her house is difficult to find through all of the side streets and alley ways. We walked back to her house and handed out the groceries, clothing, and school supplies for Hamisi. It was a rather quick house visit, but it went well. Her personality is much different from Fatuma, but it is still obvious that she is grateful for our help.
We left there to head over to Fatuma's house to drop off the backpacks for Saumu and Abeidi. Everyone waited outside while Living and I knocked on the door. It was closed and locked, and I was afraid that nobody was home. She did answer the door though, and I was glad to see them eating plates of rice. Normally they would cook and eat outside, but since we had asked her to keep secret about how much we had given her, and what we had done, she had shut the door so they could eat in private without prying eyes. I have a lot of respect for Fatuma, and she is by far one of my most favorite people here.
We had a Strawberry Shortcake backpack for Saumu, and a soccer backpack for Abeidi. Saumu was still eating and didn't have a chance to see her bag, but Abeidi is not one to miss out on an opportunity. The smile on his face was contagious. I pointed to the soccer ball on his bag and asked him "What is this?" (in my poorly managed swahili of course) His smile grew when he told me what it was. He is a proud boy.
Fatuma wanted to know when we would be back next, and we made plans to stop in on Sunday before we head back to the airport. I wish I had at least three more weeks here. :(
I offered to take Living out to lunch to thank him for everything he has done for us over the last couple of weeks. We were going to head to The Coffee Shop just at the far side of town. After a lot of walking and talking we realized that we had long since passed the place. I thought I he was leading the way, and he thought I was leading the way. Sigh. But like a good day in Tanzania, things work out the way they were supposed to. By that point we had made it pretty much to the edge of town, and Living had mentioned we were near the place to buy sweaters for the kids, the last piece missing from their uniforms. So, we kept on walking and made it to the market.
Going to the market is not something I think I will ever want to do again, but was a really great thing to experience. We walked into a booth where they were selling sweaters and the bartering began. Remember, I am whiter than white and I stick out like a sore thumb here. Sticking out attracts a special "mzungu price." For what Living would have paid 3,500 tsh on his own, the man was trying to charge us 12,000 tsh per sweater. There was a lot of arguing going on between Living and the shop keeper about how I was a mzungu and had the money to spend, but Living would have none of that because I was here trying to help the children. He told the man I had only 20,000 tsh on me (and by random chance I had only 20,000 tsh separated out in my wallet). After about 10 minutes we had drawn a small crowd, and my heart was racing hard. Finally, when Living threatened to leave and spend our money elsewhere, we bought the sweaters for 5,000 tsh a piece. More than the local price, but still reasonable.
As of this afternoon everything for the students has been taken care off. School fees paid, uniforms distributed, sweaters bought, and all but three books have been acquired. I left Living with a list of the last three books I need him to buy, and 20,000 tsh to buy them. Hopefully they will be to the kids by next week.
I feel very accomplished today. I came here and did nothing that I thought I would do, but more than I could have ever imagined I would do. I can't wait to see where things are next year.
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