A Dominican Walk Through Kenya (Part 6)

Pearl of Great Price

“The kingdom of heaven is like a treasure buried in a field, which a person finds and hides again, and out of joy goes and sells all that he has and buys that field. Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a merchant searching for fine pearls. When he finds a pearl of great price, he goes and sells all that he has and buys it.” Matthew 13:44-46

Just as we returned to the Missionaries of Charity the day after going to Kibagare, I return there now. While at the Mother Teresa House we had a chance to meet Rose, a recent graduate from Tangaza University, who has lived with the Missionaries of Charity since she was 5. Quick with a welcoming greeting, she is a unique ambassador for the children because she calls the place home, and as a bright graduate from college, she takes on the role of big sister there with zeal and humility.

As she led us among the chairs, Rose introduced me to a girl named Bernadette, who was excitedly rocking her head back and forth with a wide smile, stretched out on her stomach, and hands extended. On the wall above her low bed was a poster with a tiger on it reading, “His eye sees every precious thing.” And she certainly was. I held the hand of this sweet girl who did not have the ability to speak clearly while Rose discussed her studies on journalism and the Church. Although hampered by the inability to speak, Bernadette can understand what people are saying on some level, especially as it came from Rose in Swahili. It was humbling just to sit near her bed, knowing that she was content and affirmed.

Meanwhile, a girl named Lucy came over on crutches near our group which now included Br. Peter, with Br. Augustine still talking with the girls on the other end of the room. Lucy is one of the more communicative girls at the orphanage and enjoys singing at Mass with the Sisters. Rose patiently encouraged Lucy to break through her initial shyness and sing for the four of us. Finally, she began to sing, “Kumbaya, My Lord. Kumbaya.” Peter and I were a little surprised to realize that we knew the words as well, having sung that song in elementary school. So, we joined in, all the while still holding Bernadette’s hand, who was having a great time along with us in our little choir.

There was a lot to cook and clean, but we did not find the work burdensome. As we approached the kitchen in the back, with that familiar metal table and crooked wooden sign saying, “We need to be alone with God in silence to be renewed and to be transformed,” I remember thinking how much of a blessing it was to be here. Simply put, we saw the Beatitudes in action there with the Missionaries of Charity, the aspirants, the mamas, and the girls.

Arriving one morning after our 20-minute walk through the market, we discovered that the work load would be light because there were six college students and their teacher from Ireland folding clothes and sifting beans. As we sat down with our Irish compadres, we sifted out grass and rocks that had made their way into the bag from the harvest. One of the mamas came over with some shallow wicker baskets to show us how to do the sorting the traditional way. Her process involved tossing the beans up out of the basket about half a meter while blowing on them to knock out the grass and dirt. Sure enough, it worked pretty well, although Augustine, Peter, and I were never really able to master this fine art.

After finishing the next task of peeling potatoes (which I considered an honor in such Irish company) we had plenty of time to spend with the girls. Walking around, you could find their names on their chairs. So, we all sifted through greeting each girl and talking to the ones who were able to respond, either in English or basic Swahili. Betty. Lucy. Immaculate. Matini. Bernadette. Catherine. Irene. Mary. Beatrince. Nancy. Susan. Pauline. Agatha. Mumbi. Anna. Wangari. Apiyo. Mwende….

One by one, we gave our hearts and smiles to these girls and they gave us their hearts right back. Seeing Betty in a chair low to the ground, I walked over to her, surely remembering the fact that she had welcomed me to her home as I met with her the previous visit. A little tired, she did offer a wide smile when I asked her how she was. More tired than Betty, a girl name Immaculate was just about asleep in the next chair. Anna was certainly not asleep as she actively played with two of the Missionary of Charity aspirants over in the center of the room.

Making my way over to the action there, I was intercepted by a girl in a wheelchair who smiled, wearing a black sweater with the beads stitched in. She was very proud to show me the purple beads, her favorite color. As I asked her name, she pointed to the back of her wheelchair saying, “look.” Apiyo, written in sharpie on her chair, served as a sign post for anyone else approaching this gentle girl whose friendliness shone through her physical handicaps so brightly. I walked over to find Augustine talking with a girl named Susan and one of the mamas. I was impressed when she said that “sewa, sewa” meant “cool, cool.” It was then that she began the role as our resident Swahili instructor. Our lesson came to a close as the mamas brought out food for lunch.

The cabbage that we had cut in the back with Moses reappeared in cooked form as I was handed a plate from one of the mamas to begin feeding. Instead of going through a cafeteria line these girls were fed by hand, one on one, by the mamas and any volunteers. This took a great deal of humility and patience, a little from us with the spoons, and a lot from the girls who were willing to be helped just to eat. Rose, our faithful ambassador, brought me over to Veronica, one of the older girls on the age range supported by the sisters in the particular orphanage. Veronica, saying hello to me and Rose from her wheelchair, with a hint of grey hair, was probably in her 30s. Exchanging smiles, I could tell she was hungry and soon learned that cabbage was her favorite. Spoon by spoon, she was heartily enjoying the meal prepared by the mamas.

Peter and Augustine were busy feeding their own girls as the Irish teacher sat next to me, encouraging Lucy to “chomp, chomp, chomp.” Mary, a 10-year-old girl with down syndrome, one of the more mobile of the bunch, then greeted us as we walked outside to the sunny courtyard. One of the mamas came over and began singing a traditional song in Swahili and we clapped along in beat with Mary as the melody continued. Eventually, she ended up singing a simple song composed of the two words “Alleluia, Amen” with claps in between. It was a great way to end the day as we said goodbye to the children, the aspirants, the mamas, and the sisters at the gate on our way back to the matatu stop and the Priory for lunch.

Returning again on another day after morning prayer, Mass with the brothers, and a bumpy matatu ride, we found the girls outside in the courtyard on a sunny, yet cool and breezy day. I noticed that the moods of the girls were lifted by the favorable weather as the mamas and aspirants worked scrubbing the surfaces of the space inside not currently being occupied. Having already hung clothes to dry and chopped bananas and beans with Moses, it was time to help with feeding again.

We were starting to get the rhythm of this whole thing and were starting to build relationships with the girls who were able to engage with us. Susan gave Augustine another lesson in Swahili, Agatha walked with Peter to find a spot right in the sun (her favorite), and Lucy and I listed off our favorite animals together, which ended in me describing to her what a beaver looks like. (To be fair, I don’t think she would have ever encountered this North American rodent otherwise.)

Going inside, Apiyo was very excited to race around the craft/meal table in the center of the room. This involved her pushing her wheel chair as I rapidly shuffled my feet down the straightaway to her side. It finished as a close race, and she was all smiles at the end. Esther was enjoying sitting next to Peter on a bench, as I could tell from her gentle rocking back and forth. Pauline was making her way to the craft table in her wheelchair, beads in hand, as she gave me a big thumbs-up on the way. Rose told me that Bernadette really enjoyed spending time with the Dominican brothers who had been at the orphanage in the past. So, I walked up to her bed again, knelt down, and asked her, “Do you remember Brother Nicholas? and Lorenzo? And Joseph Paul? And Ben? And Pierce? And Adrian?” Nodding very excitedly with her tongue out, she was filled with joy as I listed their names for her. “Do you want me to say hello to them for you?” She nodded again. Wow. I was thankful that the Lord had given her the gift of memory. It was time for us to begin the journey, yet again, to the Priory for lunch and time with the brothers.