Desiree's Diary

February 21st, 2008

This is one of an occasional series of columns from Desiree,
who is serving an orphanage in the Republic of Uzbekistan, (formerly part of the USSR).
 

02-09-08

Today at the Q Orphanage was such a good day; so different than the past few weeks. It was still cold and the kids were still hungry, but the workers allowed me to do my thing. We fed them bananas and cookies and I was prepared with apples for the kids who couldn’t have bananas.

Some kids now come to me and just asked to be held. It’s much harder than it sounds. As I try and hold one kid, the others are hitting us, pulling my hair, biting me, or trying to pile on top. Even though the kids range from 4 to 7, I have found that they like to be cradled like a baby, or my like scrunched in my arms. If the other kids retreat, I just rock back and forth with the one in my arms and recite the only Russian nursery rhyme I have committed to memory. They all seem to enjoy this special time.

I went to the other section and there too was allowed to give out bananas and cookies. The kids asked me to stay and play and soon we were in a make-believe world that I could never have imagined. These kids began play-acting and used me as their prop. They told me to sit, so I sat. They told me to sleep, so I slept. I woke up and they arrested me and sent me to jail. When I said I was afraid to go to jail, they gave me a shot and told me to behave. They dragged me around the room and told me to eat. I said the food was too spicy, so they sent me back to jail, where I quickly said I was sorry rather than endure another shot.

They took me to get ice cream and Marat, who has no use of his hands or legs, demanded that I hold his hand as he lifted his shoulder to pay for the treat. He, with he others who were playing along, then took me to a concert and as soon as I was forced to sit they quickly said it was time to go. At risk of being incarcerated, I complained that there was no singing or dancing and they hurriedly began to sing into ethereal microphones and dance the native style. We had great fun!

It was a gift for me to see them act in such a way. The adults wondered what prompted such an unusual display and they were all in disbelief. The day before, these same kids had asked me to bring them toys. As they sat, lined-up on their bench, they each, rather matter-of-factly, yelled out specific requests; jump-ropes, cameras, cars, watches, etc… I stood there with my hands spread out and asked, “Where will the money come from for ALL these things? I don’t have that much money. If you have money, I will do my best to get it for you.”

After a moment of silence, Qudrat led the charge. He stood up walked over to me with both hands cupped and simply said, “Here, here’s my money!”

It took awhile but soon others followed. Heaving upon me bucket loads of wishful money, which I could barely fit into my pockets. Even Marat, scooted over on his crumpled legs, lifted his shoulder and flung his limp arm at me and said, “Take mine, too!”

After they all had sat back down, I said I would do my best to get their requests, but if I could not, I would return their money. Marat rather quickly questioned, “You will give us money, if you don’t come with our toys?”

I smiled at his intelligence and quick thinking and added with great assurance, “The exact same money you gave me, I will return to you.”

The adults, whose appearance seemed to have vanished, were suddenly heard chuckling and with that laughter, I said my goodbyes. These children have such love and great hope. It amazes me how they can let alone survive, yet still pretend.

Desiree'

All contributions can be sent to:

Uzbekistan & Humanity Inc
Box 4224
Mission Viejo, CA 92690-4224