SMALL HOME
When I was a child, growing up in a prewar Yugoslavia was a dream; a utopia, better said. Up until my second grade in elementary school, I went to the beach every summer. I lived in a National Park Plitvice Lakes where my mother was a pastry chef. I ate pastries and cakes for breakfast, lunch and dinner any time I wanted. The winters were long and snowy. After the school and homework we, the kids, would play in the snow into the dark and unattended. Everyone would go home for the dinner. That’s how the days went by. My childhood was interrupted by a war in my country, and my adulthood was deeply affected as a consequence, but I managed to accomplish a lot by hard work.
A month ago I learned of an opportunity to help children; some battling cerebral palsy, some orphans, some malaria and polio affected survivors. I was looking for this kind of opportunity for a long time, but haven’t had a chance to pursue it due to the college, lack of funds, and then job obligations; however, this time I was unemployed for a while and had free time and savings that allowed me to quickly jump on this opportunity. I was also lucky to meet right people who helped me and directed me into detail to organize and prepare for a trip of a lifetime in less than a month.
A week ago I flew into Nairobi, Kenya. The trip from Nairobi to Subukia, where the Small Home is, was more than five hours long. We were traveling through the country, passing through several police check points until we came to the last hour or two of the trip. The road turned into a dirt road, wet from the pouring rain that was unlikely for this area at this time of usually dry season. The police was everywhere. We were checked at the entrance to the stores, gas stations, restaurants; literally everywhere. I began to wonder how livable is life in such conditions, but then, as we reached closer to our destination, all we could see around us were mountains, corn fields, live stock, umbrella trees and children walking from school asking for candy when spotting our car.
Most of volunteers come from Europe. I was told that I am the first volunteer that came from The United States, although I am also originally from Europe. Before I got my degree in Economics from Rutgers University, I studied Education for three semesters in Croatia, and I firmly believe that any social and economic development depends mostly on the opportunities children and young adults are given as a product of right upbringing and the opportunity to get the right care and education. What chances do orphans and health lacking children have; I thought.
I worked with children most of my life, but once I met my friends in Small Home, I saw the side of the life that is both heart breaking and admiring. Some children know their age and some don’t. One of my friends has only half of the skull and the other half of the head is only covered with skin, but the brain is exposed and unprotected from external elements as in a new born baby, except that she is maybe ten or thirteen. She covers her head with the colorful hat. She is extremely bright, but she was kept at home until few months ago when she came to Small Home because of the fear that others might hurt her at school, because she looks like a monster, someone said. I assure you, she is the most beautiful being I’ve seen; from the way she hops when she walks, to the kindest bliss she looks at the person with, when referring to her.
Another friend is fourteen and she often prepares food for about twenty children in the home, although she is physically disabled. She learns a new song on my iPhone piano in five min. and immediately after that goes back to folding laundry. She feeds younger disabled children first, then eats, then washes clothing for everybody with another friend who is older, but cognitively disadvantaged, probably due to the lack of vaccination in childhood and untreated illness.
Another friend and her brother were found alone at home. Their mother was gone so the kids never went to school. They lived alone and the girl is cognitively disabled due to the illness that hasn’t been treated on time. Her brother is twenty two years old and in the middle school, getting ready for high school.
To the rest of the healthy kids in the villages, high school is almost a privilege to those who are able to attend, or a huge sacrifice, even to those few working parents that make some $50 a month, because the most affordable school can cost $100-$150 a year. Some people live from the arable land they cultivate and some more fortunate from the motorcycle and car transportation business. Public schools get little or no funds and boarding schools for those who qualify are success driven and; therefore, program intensive. That includes waking up at four in the morning to study, eating breakfast and going to school at seven till lunch time, then studying again, having free play from five to six, then dinner and study again from seven to nine, when everyone goes to bed; that is, if there is electricity available on a given day. Even the best student in high school can not afford to go to college due to the financial struggles.
