My days here are a teeter totter, going from things that make me really sad, to things that make me really happy. This really is a city of contrast. I tend to focus on the things that make me happy more when I write because they are much more fun to think about and I presume they are more fun to read about too. However, at times, the sad thoughts can't be completely ignored. I wrote this the other night after being at work and thinking about going back home...

26-Feb-06

Strange, but I only have 1 week left to volunteer with CCD and tben one week to pack up and take care of the last bit of details before I make it back to the States. Crazy how time has gone. It’s not been too bad though thinking of leaving, because, I haven’t really thought of leaving. I’ve told a couple of the guys that I’m going…the ones who can understand it more. The thing is, it would be a lot harder to leave if I didn’t think I would ever come back to see them again. When you get here, you get an initial shock for the way that the guys have it. Granted, some of the guys are better off here than they would be with a family that doesn’t want them, but still most of the guys don’t have much at all in life and spend their days laying in a bed shared with 2 others staring at the wall or TV. Minute after minute, hour after hour, day after day, and the next thing you know…you’re 30 years old and nothing has changed except maybe the occasional change of wards or beds. Some of the guys have good brains, you look in their eyes and know they understand things and what is going on. They just lack the physical ability to speak or move their limbs, and so they probably have the hardest time passing the years.

When you get to the wards though, you can’t be sad. Well, you could, but what’s that going to do? These guys aren’t looking for people to cry with, they’re looking for a break in the dullness, someone to touch them because they want to, not just because they need to be moved or have their diaper changed. So, since you know you can’t be sad when you get their, it’s hard (for me anyways) to want to be sad for it when I get home in the evenings. I don’t wanna remember the things that make me sad when I think of the guys and work, I want to remember the smiles, or how much fun they had singing songs with us. You remember the fun interactions, how happy they seemed when they said “good-bye” at the end of the day. You go home happy you gave them memories, not just another day of 3 meals and a shower.
After about a month then, the sadness starts to fade out and you start to unknowingly come into a subtle acceptance for the way things are. You stop praying everyday that God would bring about change in their lives and end the injustices. Sometimes something tries to bring you back to the reality. You hear for instance that all the kids in one of the wards are getting colds because that ward staff won’t give them blankets at night during cold season since they’re just going to pee on them anyways. Or maybe you see one of the babies being hit because they are crying and that’s the only way that the caregiver can quickly stop the crying so they can finish their job. (Strange how when most small children are in trouble they tend to cry more, but when one of these kids gets punished, they stop crying immediately) But too, after a while, you forget these things and think of the caregivers that do really love the kids, and the smiles on the faces of the guys even when you bring them back. You quickly accept the situation again…until you start thinking of going back to America. And then you remember that you get to go back home and they are already in the only place they know of as “home”.