Week 3!

From June 25, 2008

It is my third week at the Palm Tree Orphanage and I feel like I have been here for years. The reason for this is twofold. Firstly, I am finally comfortable here. I have accustomed myself to the random power outages. I try to predict when they will occur; for example, if there is no outage during the day, there will probably be one in the evening, so I shower early to avoid missing out on hot water. Secondly, time moves so slowly here. Perhaps this is due to the fact that I wake up very early for my 7:00am class. I often find myself looking at my watch and wondering how it is not later in the day. In New York, I would always have a multitude of things to do each day. From work to papers to meetings, there was always something on my mind. However, I really do not have much to think about here. All I need to do is prepare my lessons and teach and I have found that relatively easy. I am trying to take this time to relax a bit and not worry so much about “what’s next.” Thinking too much about the future makes you miss out on the present, and I certainly do not want to do that this summer.

I have a great admiration for the staff and children at the Palm Tree Orphanage. Despite the hardships that have come their way, from poverty to loss of loved ones, they have a great resilience about them. A situation yesterday deepened this sentiment in my mind. In the early evening, I was playing with a few of the children, when I noticed that about twenty kids and staff members were gathered in a circle, looking at something on the floor. I thought maybe one of them had caught a frog or a small animal, but then I saw a little girl lying on the floor, bleeding profusely. I found out she had jumped off the top of a car, and hit her head on the concrete, opening a huge gash in her forehead. Upon seeing her bleeding from the head, I said, “we need to take her to a hospital!” In hindsight, I realize they have probably encountered something like this before and should know how to handle it, but that was my first reaction. The “doctor” at the Palm Tree Orphanage, who has little training beyond his stint in the medical unit during the Vietnam War, prepared to stitch together the little girl’s wound. Just then, the power went out! I could not believe what was happening. There was a five year old girl on the floor, bleeding from the head, and it was pitch black. However, this still did not stop anyone. The staff immediately brought out motion-powered flashlights (donated by my family, which fortunately arrived last week) and the doctor began to place stitches across the girl’s forehead. As she screamed and cried and flailed, we held her down and tried to assure her everything was going to be okay.

For me, it was incredibly frightening to see the little girl in such pain. She is one of my favorite children at the orphanage. She is always smiling or laughing, with the most beautiful expression on her face. To hear her screaming as they put the stitches in her forehead upset me deeply. After the doctor finished and the crowd dispersed, I thought about the entire incident and realized how inspiring it was. During the makeshift surgery, the older girls and boys helped the doctor, held flashlights and carried the girl back to her room when he was finished. The young children held one another’s hands and did not seem to worry one bit. Everyone cooperated. There was no sense of confusion or fear. Someone was hurt, and they were going to fix the problem, power or no power.

Today, the girl was laughing and playing as if nothing had ever happened. If not for the enormous bandage across her head, no one would have known she was seriously injured the day before. In situations such as these, and with problems such as poverty or illness, everything is about perseverance. You cannot change the circumstances of your life. You must do the best you can. I believe this is what living in a developing nation must be like, everyday.