The six of us live and serve within the one-room church here on an Indigenous reservation and we help Pastor Janis and locals with a daycare during the mornings. On Tuesday, our first day of ministry, about ten children from two to four years of age, followed by their mothers, grandmothers, and foster mothers, filtered into the church and out to the attached fenced-in yard. I found myself astonished by my first meeting of Indigenous children. All seemed well-fed, but not necessarily well-taken care of. Alcoholism is rampant in this reservation and its people, so this made sense in a heart-wrenching way.
Most of these children were shy at first, which is understandable–to see six strangers in their playground would affect any child. But with time, encouragement from their mother figures, and the comfort of their familiar toys and daycare schedule, their joyous, talkative, and active sides were quickly revealed. I do not think I noticed it, but it was not until I heard their laughter that I felt like I could breath in their presence. After that, I was more than happy to play with Play-Dough(c), bubbles, glue, and paper. I approached a little girl with wavy brown hair, milk chocolate skin, and nearly black eyes, who sat alone at one of the six child-size tables, just outside of the sun’s harsh rays. She was quiet when I squatted next to her. She was even quieter when I complemented her craft project that included glue and construction paper. I was then approached by one of the mothers who told me this shy girl’s name and the knowledge that due to rampant alcoholism, most Indigenous people have hearing difficulties. With these two new pieces of information, I once again squatted next to Wilma, introduced myself, and intentionally raised my voice to talk with her.
All that and still nothing.
I am rather persistent, so this did not daunt me. I still chatted with this little one, but made it a point to help other children with their crafts.
It was not until after lunch, when a water hose and kiddy pool were laid out in the playground area that I had a new chance to connect with Wilma. She was splashing in the small pool with another girl and I decided that it was time to get wet. I sat in the nearby grass, knowing that my silk pants could easily be ruined. But no matter. Before I knew it, I was splashing with these two girls, enjoying every moment of it. Wilma began to talk almost instantly and I soon found myself being showered with careful handfuls of water. It was lovely to see this girl’s beautiful smile and intelligent eyes as she picked out the leaves and grass from the water she picked up to cover my head, in a baptism-like style. She continued to talk about animals and my need of a shower (my hair was too light or blonde, or so she said) until it was time to air dry and leave for the day.
We exchanged smiles as she left with her grandmother and I was happy to have a new friend, even a three year old.
On Wednesday, I found myself behind the scenes of the day’s daycare by helping with the dishes and lunch set-up and tear-down, so I was unable to play with the children. In fact, I was not able to see Wilma until she and her grandmother were on their way out the church’s front doors. As I finished up the dishes, I spotted her. Or should I say, Wilma spotted me? She came up to the gate that divided the kitchen from the main area and called me over to her. I hesitated only long enough to place the dish towel on the counter and squatted on my side of the gate to greet and chat with her and another child. They asked about me and why I had not played with them again today in their limited vocabulary as they played with my now-dry hair. To say I was delighted by them would be quite the understatement. As they walked out, I reassured them that I would play with them next time and a smile was then permanently planted on my face as I finished up with the plates.
I am quite pleased that even though I felt alienated earlier in my life, it was not for naught–it has helped me form life-long friendships and even temporary ones such as with Wilma.
