Sometimes I don't know how to handle it.
The blatant contrast of extreme joy and extreme pain, all wrapped up into one tidy, compact little experience. The vast myriad of emotions that overtake me on a daily basis. Blessing and wealth juxtaposed against utter poverty. Feeling intense bewilderment and compassion towards a person all at the same time.
Friday, we visited Mama Victoria's Kingsville Orhphanage, out in the country. Liberia's countryside is unreal. Lush. Green. Picturesque. As we drive down the dirt road in our landrover, children run to the streets with huge smiles on their faces screaming "White man, White man, White man!".
We arrive and are greeted with overwhelmingly welcoming faces and embraces, mostly from complete strangers. We are given a tour of the buildings, which are already getting run down, a year after construction, from the 80+ children who inhabit them. We see their undressed ratty foam mattresses lying on bunkbeds that were constructed by veteran Mercy Shippers on previous outreaches.
We walk through their "kitchen", where old women are cooking massive pots of rice over open fires, knowing that similar fires have been the source of so many of the burn contractures of our patients.
We listen to Liberian music being blasted over a low quality sound system that we know was bought with money that could have been used to buy rice. Or add to the half-finished school building. The children dance. We make awkward attempts, but even white people who have been in Africa for half a year can't even begin to compete. They don't care. We all laugh and sweat and sing the words to songs we have never heard before. Little girls are dressed in their very best attire and have beads platted into their hair because today is special.
The program begins. One of the older boys recites an alphabet poem that he clearly wrote himself and is quite proud of. It involves the phrase "Kissing is the best part of love" and concludes with the indisputable statement that "Zebra is a member of the animal kingdom". Enough said.
The "Birthday Month Challenge" starts. A fundraising competition, to raise money for the school building project. For ten minutes, prominent people from the community dance around and put money into plastic Walmart bags in front of their respective month representative. Again, the horrible sound system is blaring music.
The nine of us each give probably no more than a dollar. It would be unfair to sway the competition by giving more. The competition ends and it is time for the counting. One younger man tries to collect the bags, which a number of others apparently disagree with. In typical Liberian fashion, they all jump him and everybody begins yelling incoherently all at the same time.
My stomach grumbles because it is 1:00 and my lunch is in the landrover. The child on my lap gets one meal of rice per day.
The grand totals are read. The month of May takes the crown with a grand total of 900 Liberian Dollars being raised (15$ in our world).
My lifelong goal to become friends with a monkey that isn't crawling on top of my car at the African Lion Safari comes true.
My perfectly representative African day.