Attachments

On one of her living room walls, Amina has a large poster on which past volunteers have glued their photos and written farewell notes. When I first arrived, I thought they all seemed exaggerated, ("You're my mom away from home," is a common theme) especially for the individuals who only stayed with her for a couple weeks. Now, it is clear to me that these people truly felt attached to Amina because I, too, feel the same.

Living with Amina has been better than I could have hoped for. Our personalities simply clicked (she's a Sagittarius). Having had an interesting experience with my host mother in Spain, I braced myself for what was to come this time around. I hit the jackpot with Amina, however, and now I am worried for my host mom in Mombasa, as she has large shoes to fill. Amina is hilarious; she is sarcastic (definitely my kind of person) and says what is on her mind. She is a poster child for the strong, no-nonsense, independent woman. I admire that. Also, she is an expert at ignoring my pleas to give up washing my sneakers since they are only going to continue to get dirty (although she somehow makes them look cleaner than when I bought them, which is a convincing factor for her argument). Her guidance and advice for surviving Kenya, and more specifically Githurai, has been invaluable. She taught me essential Kiswahili phrases to use against persistent men looking to make it big in America with their new Caucasian wife. As life here can sometimes be frustrating, it was comforting to know she is looking out for me. The care she has for me is something I feel deeply and there's no way to repay her for that. She has indeed been a mom away from home.

Aside from Amina, I will suffer a loss from the Elshadai kids, as well. The whole week I've been feeling sad about the looming inevitability of my departure. The girls and boys frequently confirm which day will be my last and have made it clear that they are upset about my leaving a month earlier than I originally told them. We have been having increasingly enjoyable days together; we celebrated a pizza day, organized a party with balloons and cake, and spent endless hours playing at the school lot. Every day is more exciting than the last.

There are always certain people we connect with more in any setting and the orphanage has not proved differently. Five year old Nivah and eleven year old Eric I have grown very close to. Nivah is always taking the opportunity to sit in my lap or hold my hand, and when she tells me she loves me, I melt. Eric is a little man; strong and confident on the outside but sensitive on the inside. He also has a gorgeous smile (upon verbalizing this to him, he became terribly bashful about it). I realized the connection I feel with each of them must be what it is like for soon-to-be parents who adopt children (don't worry, mom, I won't come home with a child). Instead, I need to use these types of connections to motivate me to find change on a broader scale. It will be kids like Nivah and Eric whom I will strive to make improvements for in the field of human rights and community development.

When I arrive in Mombasa, I will meet a whole new group of children and will eventually go through these feelings of attachment again. Regardless, the Elshadai children will always be special to me and each and every personality will be engraved in my memory forever. When I look at photos and videos of them, I laugh at their joy, wit, and companionship. They are truly a family and one that is happy just being together. They reinforced the lesson of the importance of love and laughter over material things. At the end of the day, they are the reason I went home with a smile on my face, and to me, that makes every challenge worth it.