It’s 8:30 am and we are leaving the Anchor Center, our home base for the month, to walk the 5K trek to the care point. I’m once again in my long, grey skirt and brown-stained, hole-riddled V-neck that I’ve worn every day to the care point. It’s hot, the sun is shining, and our Nalgenes are full. Eight of us walk out the door and begin the day.
As we walk along the gravel-filled dirt road we pass by a cow or two and some donkeys. On either side of the road lie vast fields of sugarcane – tan, white and gold rather than dark hunter green. They go on for as far as the eye can see. The crops are dying, if not dead; this part of the country has been in a severe drought for over 2 years now. We’ve been praying for rain since we arrived.
We finally make it to the care point – a tiny concrete one-room building, an even smaller tin roof covered shack, an outhouse and a well. The gogo is already there and she’s getting ready to make lunch for the little ones. We get the buckets and go fill them up by pumping the water out of the well and two of us use a rag to wash the concrete floor in the building. I feel my Indian roots come alive as I squat on that floor, submerge the rag in the soapy water and wipe the rag back and forth as I hold my skirt in between my knees. I get tired at the end, but it gives me a greater appreciation for those who live this life every day.
The kids trickle to the care point. Most of them have worn the same filthy, holey, clothes every time we’ve seen them. Some wear shoes and some don’t. Who knows when the last time was they had a bath. They don’t come with anything except for a sibling or friend. We see them and smile and they do the same. We hold them, play with them and draw with them.
Lunch is ready. The kids line up and say their prayer of thanksgiving. The gogo scoops huge portions of enriched rice mix out of the 25-gallon cast-iron pot and serves it to the kids – they gratefully receive their plates and begin scooping the food into their mouths with their hands. It takes a little while for them to finish; for some of them this is their only meal of the day.
We hang out for a little bit longer after the kids finish their meal. At this point they kind of entertain themselves. The group of boys has found something interesting underneath the broken water tank lying on the ground. They manage to flip it over a time or two and then come running over to us with shouts of excitement. The ringleader is holding something in his hand. As they come closer we realize it’s a mouse – maybe alive, probably near death. He holds it up like a trophy and then squeezes it till its eyes pop out. We know definitively that it’s met its Maker. The ringleader shows off his prize to each of us and then lays it at my feet. I thought for a minute he was going to throw it at me, but thank the Lord he didn’t.
Zack takes a broken piece of chair, scoops up the dead mouse and chucks it over the fence hoping that will eliminate anymore play and potential mouse-chucking at people. But the boys aren’t done. Two of them run out and retrieve with dead animal with what we know are mischievous intentions. They come back running after Zack with the mouse in hand; Zack takes off in full speed down the road and we die laughing.
It’s about 2 o’clock and we recognize that now is a good time to go – the mouse entertainment has signaled the end for today. Most of the kids have gone back home and the gogo is locking things up. We gather our things and begin the long, hot walk back feeling full of love and laughter – today has been a good day.
