A touch of Charity

 

One of them had a bad face. The bad face was a shy but happy face, warming hearts. She had the best heart. She blushed alot. The other was an alcohol addict. She was also a happy face. They matched in, dressed in yellow t-shirts and jeans trousers. They sang with passion when called upon to. Some of them recited in Spanish fluently. Others had no business besides just being happy. Some bad spirits should never descend upon you on a beautiful day. They should never come in between you a day like this! It is miserable to feel a certain way in certain days. I almost missed the event. 

I stayed indoors to decide whether I should go or just call it off. It was one of those strange moments when you have nothing to do, but also you got to do something to pass time. My laptop that has been in a coma for about a month now was there staring at me and it was my perfect destination. Thanks to YouTube for the good tutorial, even though I did not do anything constructive after opening every screw of the device. 

I made a choice. A choice to go and spend the afternoon with the children at Makimei children’s home in Gitaru rather than stay indoors and play hide and seek games with my rumbling stomach. Besides, I was tagged along by a special someone in a charity group called Heart Work. And to spice it up, it was a chapatti fest. You barely get things wrong with chapos in attendance.

Heart work says weekends are for charity. How one takes this is solely up to them but weekends should be for charity. We are needed desperately, so dearly by these less fortunate people than we ever contemplate. We were a large group. We rolled our sleeves, split firewood and cooked kamande. Good  delicious stew. We cooked chapos and washed clothes. There was a cake cutting session. The children were happy and that’s all that mattered at that particular time. They ate chapos and drunk soup with the mouth of their dishes - as the soup trickled down their cheeks. 

Golden hearts still exist; the compound was swollen with cars to a spilling brim. Guys showed up and did desirable acts of charity. I made a few friends, Kazidi was one of them. She made good dough balls for rolling. There was an exact size of the dough balls she wanted, not too small not too big. She could ration the size with her eyes and pinch the larger ones a bit to be the exact match. Then there was Small, she was actually small like her name. She works at a company that publishes kids’ books. I asked her if besides rolling chapos she could help me publish a book and she said we could talk about it so we exchanged contacts.

There was Rachel, the managing director of the home. She also grew up there. Other than being a mother that all those children never had, she is also a pastor. When she prays, you feel like God is right beside you. How she narrates the lives of those young ones will make your heart melt with emotions. Her narrations cut through the heart like a red-hot knife on butter. 

There was silence when she brought the children forward for introduction. Baby Abigael Lota was picked at Wangige market wrapped in a leso; she was 2 months 3 weeks old. At the time of her rescue, she was 8hrs old. Moses was three and a half months, he was dumped at Mbagathi river in Dagoretti. By the time he was found, he was blue and pale. There was blood all over his body, he was eaten by termites. His nose and ears were tattered. He was just a day old.  Jeremy was rescued in a drainage system and Faith was rescued on the railway line.

John was dumped in Thogoto forest; he was not even well wrapped and was freezing. He was cold and pale but he survived. Then there was another Abigael, a heroine. She started winning at three. Her mother left and never came back. In the secluded  place where they lived no one noticed they were abandoned for some time. Abigael fed her twin siblings who were just months old until there was nothing more to eat, when the hunger became unbearable they resorted to feeding on used diapers. Well, did this woman just leave or she was run over by something heavy somewhere and died?

I've thought of many things but not a child eating used diapers like those homeless dogs that do nothing but roam around. Most people had stopped eating chapos - they were silent and all ears. Maybe to help with the burden of multitasking; eating and listening. Total silence; the pictures painted by Rachel’s words were eldritch. 

There was Jason, he looked like an Arab child. He had good hair that you would want to run your fingers through. He had a happy face and sang loudest. He was adorable.  Emily was bold, she didn’t look down when being introduced. She was raised and abandoned in a chang’aa den. She was an alcohol addict when she was brought to Makimei. At 2 years she could not do without chang’aa, she looked like she would die the next minute if she didn’t drink. The doctors advised that she should consume alcohol on a reducing balance until she is okay.

Ladies and gentlemen, put your hands together for John William Ruto. In Makimei we had Ruto, Uhuru and Raila who were later persuaded to drop the prominent political names to avoid biasness. Guess who refused to drop his name ?... John William. That is how my namesake retained his third name. He was dumped in a carton like chicken. Whoever dropped him was kind enough to bore holes on the carton so he could breathe. He was injected drugs so that he could sleep for long hours and just die when he wakes up. His delicate parts were swollen almost the size of his head. The motorist who picked the carton held it in reserve till evening thinking it was something for the stomach. He said that only God knows the horror that met him when his chicken turned into a child.

Shiro was rescued from domestic violence - when her parents engaged in a fatal fight leaving her with broken limbs. There was this little one with purplish braids. She was beautiful and calm. I missed her name. She was the newest case at Makimei, brought in July. She was still adapting to live in a children’s home. She looked confused and uneasy. You could see the trauma in her eyes.

There was a J for Joshua. His mom gave birth to him and wrapped him in a paper bag together with his placenta. He was squeezed and fractured his arms. He was navy blue when he was found. He was closer to death, but still survived. Another had his placenta cut badly or something, he had started rotting at the umbilical cord when he was  rescued by the police from the mad woman who picked him. In the garbage place the lady found something wrapped in paper and thought it was the perfect day that the Lord had made. She took it and slowly walked away from the others only to find out it was a child when she was ready to eat.  He happens to be the most intelligent.

When Rachel was done telling us about Milly Clare and another kababy who was tied on the railway line so that the 5pm train would run over him, I started packing my chapos. There was no more appetite. Milly Clare had a bad face and the best heart. You can throw a child anywhere but certain places should not be an option. You can go leave them at someone’s doorstep or in the market place, in a church compound yes, but pit latrine is a No. Milly’s face looked burnt, she was thrown in a pit latrine. A pit latrine where everyone goes to shit? This was the most hurting story for me. With all the magots ?with the spooky stench ? Rachel said  her whole body looked burnt but she’s improving. She looks low on self-esteem but with your visits to Makimei children’s home she will be fine.

There were two others whose names I don’t recall. One was rescued by dogs in the forest, the other was rescued by a dog in a garbage pit. How the dogs didn’t eat them beats me. Then there was Raila, Rachel said he’s a freedom fighter. He once dropped a flask of tea breaking it to pieces because the matrons gave them uji whilst they were taking white tea. The matrons ain't mean - it was just one remaining sachet of milk in the store and could not make enough tea for the kids. H.E decided to choose Chaos, there was no supreme court so he took the law in his own hands. 

Angel was 16; she looked younger than her age. You could think she was 7 or something. She suffered cerebral paralysis. She was still learning how to use her legs . They were feeble and shaky . They were swinging like they were just attached by some clips on her waist. She suffered sodomy and defilement from her father. Aaaggrrh!! She was a happy girl anyway, but only happy when wanted to be  happy. When she got angry, it was disaster!

Rachel has a big heart. You can tell that after hearing a few words from her. She loves those kids unconditionally. She told Heart Work to educate young ladies not to throw away their babies come what may.  Take them to a children's home or a police station. Take them to the chief or to the church. This is the road that leads to a long lasting solution.  

If you want to extend support to Angel, Milly, shiro, Joshua, Abigael and many others visit Makimei Children's Home in Gitaru one weekend or help them build a house for the kids through Till number 895412. They will ask God to bless you and sing you this song; There was a bird in an egg and the egg on a nest and the nest on a branch and the branch on a tree and the tree on a hill and the hill on the land and the land on the sea and the sea bla bla bla...