It is early morning and I leave by matatu from my home base in Mombasa.  The longer we travel, the more distressed the scenery becomes.  Once off the main street, cattle roam freely interrupting the traffic, which seems to have no real pattern.  People line the streets, huddled around charcoal fires, roasting yams and mahindi—a dried sweet corn.  Many, not able to afford the cost of the matatu, walk in groups toward the city to take jobs posted daily by the resorts that hug the coastline.  The women, clad in boldly-printed kangas, carry large baskets or buckets of water atop their heads and herd parades of small children…

In the outskirts of Bamburi, the matatu lets us off to walk the few miles to the orphanage.  More and more, the comforts I know disappear and my angst increases.  It is a blessing to have Louisa, who travels with me for introductions, to offer some distracting conversation.  From London, she has been in Kenya for over a year scouting programs in need of  volunteers.  During our walk, she points out a small medical clinic and other local sites and introduces me to Millie, who will supply me with water for the daily trek…

Finally we turn onto the path of Restoration Orphanage.  I am stalled by the sight of the primitive mud hut that spills out children—all running to see the new white lady.  As children, young and old, circle me, they laugh.  I can not help but respond in kind.  Immediately, the children catch sight of the gold crown that protects a back tooth and explode into a jabber of amazement and pointing.  Then, lacking my timidity,  they repeatedly reach from around my face and pry my mouth open to see the gold tooth.  I know at once that I will love them…

Louisa  introduces Pastor James and his wife, Madame Margaret.   He is a young, slight man and seems, at first visit, to be firm and direct.  He immediately begins detailing timelines and agendas.  He is aggressive in his wants for the school and what he expects to accomplish in short time I will be here.  It is a bit intimidating.  Madame Margaret, a beautiful and maternal figure, is very shy and hangs back.  Her quiet nature complements the sharp matter-of-fact tone of Pastor James.  She speaks little English but her eyes communicate effectively both to me and the children…

After an extended meeting, Louisa prepares to leave for other orphanages under her care.  Panic sinks into the depth of my stomach.  I walk with her to the edge of the pond and let my fears pour out.  How will I accomplish anything without her guidance and assistance?  I have been here five days and still get lost in the alleys leading to home base.  I look around the orphanage and am overwhelmed at what there is to accomplish and, for the first time, I am sure I am in over my head.  Louisa listened and says simply,  “Restoration is yours now.  You will find your way.”  And then, she and a gaggle of children head down the path…

At day’s end, many of the children walk with me as I leave to catch the matatu back to home base.  Soon, it will be dark and I worry about them making it back to Restoration unharmed.   They, however, are not afraid.  Children embrace such independence here.  I wave goodbye and am thankful to a gentleman for lending me his seat.  I watch for familiar landmarks as my body floods with exhaustion.  Finally I make it down Moi.  The last light is leaving the sky and the nightly prayer begins its broadcast from the minarets of the surrounding mosques.   The air is full of spiced stews and goat’s meat…

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