February 18, 2012

Thunder and down pour on the tin roof wake me before the animals. Seven am rolls around and I run through the fields again. Sunday means we head to Nazareth Orphanage to help out. We meet Jaja, short for Josephine. She runs Nazareth, and she says that most people misunderstand her and call her Nazareth.

We sit with some of the staff as they peel potatoes, children flock to us, holding our hands, grabbing, climbing, playing. There is a chicken coop that provides eggs for the children as well as product to sell in the orphanage store. Jessica and Leandrea read books borrowed from the URF library, Goodnight Gorrilla, and the beach. Plastic chairs are pushed around and the kids point out different colours and objects in each of the books. Storytime finishes and the children become restless.

A few rounds of twinkle twinkle little star, the alphabet, and the hokey pokey ring through the small room. We move outside to the playground for counting games with coloured bottle caps. Counting in unison, as the caps are handed out, or put back. Jehan and Leandrea then hide the caps as Jess and I sing more songs, and count. Once hidden, they would run and find the caps

throughout the playground then bring them back to count.

Sister eve asks about my family, and I show her photos of everyone, then asks me to teach her how to take photos. After we head to Frikkadella, which I originally thought was some sort of hippy mezungu bar. It's Danish. As we eat a cow walks by and the internet does not work.

"Never forget Alex". As I was paying for my drink at a supermarket a man in a fur like jacket attempted to put the moves on Leandrea, then asked me to purchase him a

fake gold necklace. He was quite insistent. As we leave he insists that we give him our number, or that we take his so we can be friends. We decline and leave. "Never forget Alex" he says, then attempts to follow us down the street. He appears at the Shell station where we attempt to catch a cab. A short ride to Chabacuza and we hop in a taxi. My height awards me the privelege of the front middle seat. I am too tall and have my head at an angle. A mother and baby daughter sit next to me, the little girl keeps pointing to my leg. I thought it was because of my skin tone, but the mother explains that she does not understand my leg hair.