The grimy truth

So I hardly want to write this, as it's not n appropriate representation of the light and smiley orphanage where I work, well not so much work but play and dance and sing and have fun, "drawing didi (older sister), drawing drawing, " , full of love and sunshine and giggles , energy and delicious home cooked food by auntie, (i'm not exaggerating), but today i read some of the case studies for the children I'm working with, well not directly them, but some other children in nearby associated homes. I was asked to edit the education co-ordinator's writing and so i began... and it started more like a fairy story than a real-life story, she always wrote, "and this is a story like any other poor family's," as if it's the rule not the exception. And so I lapsed into the mode of dreamy reading like a fairytale, until the real horror that it's actually the parents of the happy kids like mine at the home that this has happened to. So there were many stories six in total. They told of quarrelling, drunken fights night after night, wife-beating, shouting, despair and usually much death. In the first, the mother was covered in petrol by her drunk husband and set alight, her 3 screaming kids watched her slowly burn to a corpse screaming 'mamma mamma,' they were then shifted to their uncle's house until that created more quarreling, since their aunt and uncle were just as poor and now had twice the mouths to feed. Other stories told of a mother swallowing kerosine until she died, to escape a similar torture of the first, I believe her brother then had the same fate. Another story told of 5 boys who all died one after another due to some kind of degenerating health disease, this caused their father to commit suicide. I could hardly believe I wa s editing the sentences, "losing my memories" to 'lost my memory' and "was beating me" to 'he would beat me.' It hardly seemed important to get the English perfect in this situation, it felt crude.

But these were suprisingly stories of hope, because the kids that have ended up at the home have all come out of depression and isolation and take part in all activities in the school. They love learning and singing and dancing. When I look around at all the children, who make my day so happy, with their smiling faces, I can hardly believe they have come from backgrounds like these. I think it is testament to the value of love and nurture that these children will I'm sure grow up to be happy and valued people, able to love and give. If this is possible, then anything is possible.