sounds of any kind, it stays open with saliva incessantly drooling. She gazes at you, her mind
seemingly lost in a world far away distant from yours. Seeing her this way, it is easy to conclude that she knows nothing, but how mistaken could you be. Her bright eyes and the infectious smile she accords you when she occasionally snap from her trance leave a lot to be desired. She follows us around, jubilantly wailing and mumbling what we all don’t understand; ours is a guess that she like us and is only too pleased to be in our company. She seems interested in us, occasionally picking the guy she likes and demanding a hug; the lucky guy, either as shows of modesty or perhaps too pleased to comply does not decline. Amidst jubilation and claps, the hugging is over. Without even a goodbye, she has forgotten about the guy, spotted another one though, and dash there for a repeat of the same.
Her wishes granted, she remain jovial and friendly.
Seated lonely on the freshly mowed grass, another one beckons at you, perhaps fascinated with the camera on our wrist and the frequent flashes it emits when you hop around taking photos that you probably don’t need. All he wants is his picture taken. That done, he beg to see it, immediately forget your presence and move on… on to his own world where he maintain a blank stare in space, his mouth open and saliva drooling from his mouth. I stand there and look at this special child. I wonder what he could be thinking about… his next meal, the picture he just seen? Could he be thinking about his future? Or is he be thinking about me and why I am standing there forlornly looking at him? I try to synchronize my mind with his, try to read his thoughts but he completely shut me out and eventually I give up. The party has moved on so I leave the special one still deeply engrossed in his thoughts and trudge along to join the flock.
Playing on the slides in the play ground, Michael, 23yrs, is enjoying himself oblivious of the fact that he is playing with children who are three to five years old. Occasionally he knocks the stubborn ones down, when they refuse to clear the way along the tunnel of the slide, then run away fearing the child might reprimand him. It does not bother him that we, his peers, are watching him and before long, he is back on the slide again.
A screaming boy dashes past us, his teacher hotly in pursuit. To control the children, we are told, sometimes demand on ones physique and athletic skills. There are those who will refuse to obey, engaging the teachers in a cat and mouse kind of a game. The problem is even magnified by the varied needs of these children since each is unique in his or her own way: some are pure mental case are others are a little mentally shaky, still, others look normal. Some do not know logic so reasoning with them is out of question; it calls for skill and patience to deal with their demands.
It was our intention was to come here and familiarize ourselves with the life these children. We wanted to spend the day with them, have fun and make them feel appreciated. As part of community service, our plan was to assist the institution with anything we could do in a day. It was a challenging day and an informative one all the same. To see the harmony and love that these children have, to note that they care about each other more than us, who claim to be normal, to see the innocent and beaming smiles that they bear as a show of appreciation whenever anyone do anything for them… these children are indeed special.
Within the confine of its walls, the school houses some amazingly special children. Each of these children has a story to tell, one which unfortunately most will never tell. They are the people who have faced rejection from the society with some starting with their parents. To have finally found a place they can call home, a place where all their needs are taken care of is a blessing and a relief. To see the dedication and enthusiasm that the teachers who teach in the place have, the love and care they take of these children touches in the core of humanity. It leaves one with a guilty conscious knowing how stingy we are, that the closest thing we ever did on humanitarian grounds was to contribute some derisory amount to the Kenyans4Kenya campaign, and even that was because everyone we know was doing it. But here we are, people who perhaps contributed more than you in that campaign earn their livelihood taking care of what the society has rejected. Running up and down, controlling these children, giving them direction and guidance they require. I shudder and for a moment am tempted to ask the teacher who is taking us around the school how much she earns. I do not ask her; I don’t want the guilty of knowing how measly her draining job rewards. It could be she does not do it for money; that’s what I want to believe.
