Pap

Snot seems to be a very important theme these days (ahem, this is for the Rushdie readers.) Clad in their green sweatsuits and motely assortment of shoes, sweaters, one-mittens, and beanies, each precious and petite person also had gobs of snot clinging to their upper lips. I feel like I am covered in spit and slime and baby kisses, and while it’s a pleasant glaze on the one hand, I desperately crave a shower (they finally tiled the floor today, so that’s not really an option.)

On the subject of bodily fluids, we also dealt with the scary one today. I was in the midst of a massive pile on the rug, when all of a sudden a small boy with a plaid shirt started screaming, and clutching at his mouth. I tried to get the kids to move away, but of course, fascinated, they only jumped on him. When I say that blood was pouring from somewhere on his face, I mean pouring. Streams of the thick red landed on his pants and trickled over his hands and dropped on the rug and the floor. I didn’t know what to do – I was the closest “teacher” nearby and so I should have helped, but I was torn in two and frozen. Half of me wanted to grab him and carry him and wash him off, but the other half of me was thinking about AIDS and death and panicking a little bit. Luckily, another teacher swooped in and administered to his cut/bloody nose/lost tooth/I’m not sure. However, there were drops of blood on the floor that the kids were pretending to step on and a mop to soak them up didn’t seem like the best chosen tool.

It was just really strange. I don’t want to make a bigger fuss over infection than the other teachers at the day care center – after all, they know these kids far better than I do and are also aware of their status as the orphans of AIDS infected parents. However, I can’t ignore it either and it is something that legitimately terrifies me.

On the lighter side, the kids are incredible. They are so full of energy and affection – within minutes of entering the room I had three on my lap and two more braiding my hair. The language barrier makes things a little frustrating – they really only speak Setswana – but when you’re just trying to communicate about pushes on swingsets and where to sit at lunch, it really isn’t that bad. They chatter a lot though, and I’m really curious about what they’re saying.

The kids range from age 2-6, but I was mostly with the older ones today. Once Abby and I start with lesson plans and a bit of a routine, I hope to spend more time with everyone.

I am so exhausted at the moment, and I can’t really determine why. Probably a combination of four hours of serving as a human jungle gym, the hot hot sun, and a little bit of a realization of just how hard life is for some here. I can’t go into it at the moment because I haven’t fully articulated these thoughts for myself yet, but I’m really just starting to understand some things I’d always thought I had a grasp on.