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15.5.09
We`re driving towards the orphanage.The highway is lonely, save for a few languid trucks ambling along.It is damp too, and a dense fog covers the countryside:a single light here or there provides the only trace of civilization amidst the eternal verdure.Inside the van, the smoking of cigarettes past wafts in the air, lingering like a lost soul.
inhale, and quickly cough.I subsequently opened the window to the enveloping darkness outside, so slightly as to not trouble my companions in the back.The wail of the road echoes in my ears.
An unexpected wrench was thrown into our travel plans today.The trip began expediently enough as the bus on which Candy and I rode reached the Shenzhen airport with hours to spare; however, the unscheduled hiccups soon followed.We received an announcement over the world address system notifying us of a flight delay, due to a secret military maneuver, we deduced, high in the Shenzhen skies.Several more sonorous reminders came in punctual succession over the following six hours.It seemed as though we would be stuck, stranded really, at the airport forever, or for the day at least.Thankfully, after the police arrested some of the more aggrieved passengers, we finally boarded the level and took off for central China.We were blessed to be on our way at last, none of us having blown a gasket during the afternoon tedium.
One more pitch black road awaited, down a single lonely lane lined with swarthy trees, standing as though sentries, and at length we arrived at the orphanage.The car stopped in a clearing, and we stepped out, onto a cement lot with soft puddles spread silently beneath our feet.We squinted into the twilight, our eyes trying to have sense of the surroundings.Our bags were unloaded, we made our way to the rooms, and soon enough fell asleep.I guess we all enjoyed the repose, rendered especially comfortable by the new guest rooms in which we were staying.
16.5.09
We receive just been here for barely 24 hours, yet it feels as though we have been here for much longer, as if time at some detail in our journey decided to slow itself to a crawl. Maybe it was because of the litany of activities that we packed into the sweep of several hours, or maybe it was the want of worldly distractions, allowing us to concentrate only on our mission, that caused us to freeze the custody of that imaginary clock in our mind. Whatever the case, we`ve enjoyed every instant at the orphanage; it is time definitely well spent in service!
Morning call was at 6:20; and afterwards a prayer meeting we went downward to last see the kids. They were acting on the vast driveway of the orphanage, savoring their bit of freedom before breakfast. To see so many friendly faces, in spite of their precarious physical and filial circumstance was definitely encouraging. I made a mass of new friends; and did my best throughout the day to affect those kids with joy, honesty and patience. It is a potent cocktail which brings love immediately to many.
The food at the orphanage is without processing, as rude as victuals can be in these years of impersonal industrial production. Large chunks of mantou, steaming bowls of soupy congee, and salty vegetables with slivers of meat have characterized our meals. It is the sort of small stuff that lengthens life spans, and disciplines the palate.
We presented a broad array of activities - structured and unstructured; whole course and little group - to the kids, in the desire that we would do them as often as amuse. In the morning, as though breaking the ice once were not enough, we ran through a serial of dizzying, if not at times totally incoherent, activities designed to familiarize our dispositions to each other. Later, we accomplished a makeshift fun fair, at which we ushered the children to rooms filled with (board) games, and puzzles, and other, more colorful activities such as face painting and balloon making. The kids couldn`t at length contain their enthusiasm, busting into and out of rooms with impunity, soaking in the rapturous atmosphere. In the afternoon, our team attempted to tire them out:running topped the agenda, and by leaps and bounds, the activities, whether straightforward relays or schoolyard classics like duck duck goose and red light, green light, indeed began to tucker our charges out. We, too, were pretty beat by the time night began to crawl over the horizon!
17.5.09
Yesterday evening, we surprised the students with a musical performance, followed by forty minutes of bubble-blowing madness; to be sure, the students could not appreciate our somewhat accurate rendition of Amazing Grace so often as the innocent madness of dipping one`s hands in a result of dish detergent and corn syrup and then whispering a ripple to life; and indeed, the moment the Disney branded bubble-making machines churned the first sight of bubbles into the air, with much rapidity weaving their frenetic pattern of fun, chaos erupted in the room. The students stormed the soap basin, and almost overwhelmed my teammates who valiantly held the Shop and Pooh high above the heads of the clamoring kids.
During the evening`s festivities, I grew progressively ill, until at death I dashed out of the way to sneeze. Outside, in the chill of the night, under a mist of stars beaming so far away in the thick of space, I exploded in a resentment of sneezing. The fit lasted for 5 minutes, an inexorable depression in my system which sent both my trunk and my esteem tumbling down. I felt bad, not just for my exceedingly rickety health, but for my teammates and the children who may have been open to my illness as it incubated within me; furthermore, everyone in the classroom was saying goodbye and all I could do was rid myself of a sniffle here and there, in between rounds of bursting from nostrils and sinuses. I was impotent, as though one of my insignificant droplets on the floor!
18.5.09
We are in a car heading towards a notable historic situation in Henan. The driver`s drawl slips slowly from his mouth, and what he says resonates intelligibly in our ears. Candy, Tanya and the driver are discussing Chinese mythology, and history, which, for better or for worse seem to be inextricably intertwined. We narrowly just now missed hitting an idle biker in the centre of the road; in dodging our human obstacle, the car swerved into the oncoming traffic, sending us flying inside the cabin. Reciting a rhyme from a worship song calmed our frazzled nerves.
How to distinguish the children?Many of them smiled freely, and were so polite when greeted that undoubtedly they had been trained well at some degree in the turmoil of their life education.Precociousness was likewise a usual characteristic shared by the kids, whose stunted bodies belied the mature, perspicacious thoughts hiding just underneath the skin.Of course, in our time together we were more jolly than serious, that character being best left for the adults working silently in their rooms; and to that effect, the kids brought out their funny bones and jangled them in the air to raise up the fervour and to ruin by a jocular clamor any trace of a dull moment - we really laughed a lot.At last, although not all of them seemed interested in our staged activities - rather than feign enthusiasm and eagerness, some skipped our events altogether - those who did participate, most of them in fact, enjoyed themselves with abandon, helping to produce that delightful atmosphere where the many sounds of elation reign.
Of the students whom I had the chance to know personally, several still get out in my mind, not the least for my having christened a few of them with English names!David was bold, and courageous, willing to soothe crying babes as often as reprimand them when their capricious actions led them astray; he had a caring heart not unlike a shepherd who tends to his young charges.Edward, who at 13 was the like age as David, definitely grew emotionally, not to mention physically connected to me.He was by my face for lots of the weekend, grabbing onto my hand and not letting go, to the spot where I in my arrogance would detach my fingers within his, ever so slightly, as if to indicate that a bit more would go to a clean break - I live now that with the brutal men of time motoring away during the mission, I shouldn`t have lapsed into such an independent, selfish state; he should have been my son.Another youngster who became so committed to the team as to intimate annoyance was the boy we deemed John`s son, because the boy, it seemed, had handcuffed himself to our teammate, and would only rid himself to cause insidious mischief, which would always result in an explosion of hysterics, his eyes bursting with weeping and his mouth, as broad as canyon, unleashing a sonorous wail when something went wrong.On the other hand, Alice remained in the distance, content to grin and shyly wave her hand at our team while hiding behind her sisters.And death but not least, of our precious goonies, Sunny undoubtedly was the photographer extraordinaire, always in point of the school`s camera, snapping away liberally, never allowing any passing moment to run his shot.
That I learned on this trip so often about my teammates verily surprised me, as I view the relationships that we had established were already mature, not hiding any new bump, any sharp edge to storm us from our friendly stupor.So, consider myself delightfully amazed at how a few little changes in the personality mix can get out the best, the most creative and the strangest in the group dynamic:admittedly, Candy and Tanya were the ideal foils for John, they eliciting the most humorous observations and reactions from my house church leader, they expertly constructing a profundity of reference that even last week, in the heat of the Guangdong biking trip, I never knew existed!Most of all, I`m happy to have been a piece of such a harmonious fellowship, for the fact that we could prayer together as one, and encourage each other too, and all the more as we saw the day approaching.
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