"Don't mess with my kids, ya schmuck!"

In September, My mom and I went to a party/barbecue/hangout-in-the-pool-day at her friends' house.
Because my Dad couldn't come, I got to sit at the grown-up table!
I am 22 years old, and I act like a kid on Christmas whenever I get to sit at the grown-up table, it's such a rarity. (My sister was at the party too, and I love her, but she doesn't count because she had to sit at the kids' table.)
So we're sitting at the grown-up table and they started asking me about my upcoming trip to Tanzania.
Oh my gosh, I just remembered there was Port Wine cheese at this party, AAH I LOVE Port Wine cheese!
Sorry, I'm hungry.
So we were talking about Africa, and then the grown-ups started making bets on whether or not I'd ever come home.
Mr. and Mrs. Mistretta said I would come home, but then come back to Africa.
Mr. Koch said I would come home, but it would be with an African baby.
Mr. Susich said I was never coming home.
Mrs. Koch, Mrs. Susich, and my mom said I was definitely coming home... or else.
And I just cried. You'll find I do that a lot.
(I think that was right, if I got your vote wrong, I'm sorry, it was 5 months ago.)

Listen guys, I'm definitely coming home. I want Chili's.
I think they were all right.
That's correct. I'm bringing a baby home.


Not really, but I wish. How thoroughly do you think they check your bags at customs?
I will be home in May, and I know it will be great. I miss my family, my friends, my dog, my boss and coworkers, my job, my clients, and FOOD.
But I know I will be back here.
My home will always be in New Jersey.
But they say home is where the heart is.
And these kids took their little hands, shoved them through my chest, took out my heart, and divided it amongst themselves.
I will never get it back.
And I'm okay with that.
This is home too.
I'm sitting here on our front stoop, writing this, listening to the crickets, the dogs barking, and the Maasai guys in our neighborhood doing their weird Maasai singing/yelling.
And it feels normal.
It feels like home.

Today, some friends and I took the kids from the Hope Orphan Center to Lake Duluti to go swimming.
It was so much fun!
The kids were scared of the water and I was swimming with multiple children hanging on my neck, and I couldn't shake the feeling that they were MY kids.
Some local guy was splashing them and grabbing their ankles and trying to scare them.
I was getting so angry.
At one point, I had a little boy on my back, and this rude guy tried to swim between my legs to scare us.
So what did I do?
Well being a crazy girl from New Jersey, naturally, I shut my knees together and squeezed the guy's head.
Before I realized it's a bad idea to squeeze a person's head underwater, I thought, "Don't mess with my kids, ya schmuck!"
And then I let him go.
I just feel so protective of these kids. I have to take care of them, there's no choice.

They've been placed in my life.
They're mine.
Rosie is mine.
Angel is mine.
Over the past four months, my family has expanded immensely, along with my heart.
There are days when I'm ready to go home, when I just want to watch Lifetime movies with my mom, or go to the beach with my friends, or hang out with my dog (that's not weird), or even go to work.
But in reality, I do not know how I am going to be able to leave my babies.
I just have to hold on to hope that I will see them again.
I have less than six weeks left.
That's nothing.

So here's what we're gonna do.
I have like 60 kids that I'm bringing back with me.
So you guys need to mail me like 45 suitcases, and when I get to the airport, everybody grab a suitcase and run.
Go in different directions to throw the cops off the trail, and then we'll meet at Chili's at around 6:00.
Dinner's on you, cause I don't have money, and I got 60 mouths to feed.
Okay? Okay.
Sounds great, see ya then.

-Braver than I Believe.

Consider the lilies of the field...

As I sit here in my bed, home with a twisted ankle, listening to Taylor Swift, I cannot help but believe that things always work out.
The past few weeks have been some of the most trying weeks of my life.
I've been dealing with some insomnia, which just makes me so exhausted, not just physically, but mentally and emotionally. It's almost comical how much I've been crying.

I cry when I'm sad.
I cry when I'm tired.
I cry when I'm excited.
I cried when I took Rosie to the hospital. Many times.
I cried when I found out Rosie has malaria.
I cried when I came home and told everyone about my day at the hospital.
I cried when I had to wait for an hour at Western Union.
I cried when my friend told me the plot to the movie Simon Birch.
I cry every time I skype ANYONE. Seriously, if you don't want me to cry, don't skype me.
I cried when I talked to one of my favorite clients, Alyson, and she said nice things to me.
I cry every time someone says anything nice about me.
I cried when we were talking about getting proposed to at Disney World.
I cried when I went to pick Rosie up, and she was still sick.
I cried when I was reading the 1st Harry Potter this weekend, and Neville got awarded the 10 points that won Gryffindor the house cup, because I was just thinking that probably felt so great.
I cried when I didn't know how I would be able to pay Rosie's hospital bills.
I cried when an anonymous organization paid them for me.
I cried when $200 went missing from my suitcase.
I cried when one of my friends who was leaving, gave me money to help take Rosie to physio.
I cried this morning when I twisted my ankle on the way to school.
I am crying right now.

For the past few years, I've been a pretty big cry baby, but this is getting out of hand.
But hey, good news is coming!
In this difficult time, I am learning so much.
Every time something goes wrong, I feel like it is the end of the world.
But so far, nothing has been the end of the world yet.
The world is still in tact.
Things always work out.
On Sunday, I was talking to Rosie's school director telling him I did not know how I would be able to pay her hospital bills. He told me, "Katrinah, God will take care of you. You are doing a good thing for one of His children, He will take care of you." ...Two minutes later, Rosie's mom called and said that the people at the hospital had just told her that there was an organization paying for her hospital bills because she is disabled."
Things like this happen EVERY time something goes wrong.
It never stays wrong for long.
But still, I always get nervous when things go wrong.
Why? They ALWAYS turn out fine.
I am learning that I just need to trust that things will be okay.
I waste so much time worrying when something bad happens, and then all of a sudden, it's turned around, and I'm shocked every time. Like it's a surprise.
It's not a surprise. I am being taken care of. I need to trust that.
After almost 4 months in Africa, I am finally truly starting to realize I will never be forsaken.
I am not forgotten.
The birds of the air neither reap nor sow, the lilies of the field neither toil nor spin...
I'll be fine.
That's a beautiful epiphany.

I am a character in the Muppets Treasure Island.

Ooph, it has been some week so far, and it's only Wednesday. 

Dave Hasz, an old teacher of mine, whom I admire greatly, once said, "an optimist gets thrown into a barn full of horse manure, and starts looking for the horse." 

WHERE IS THIS FREAKIN HORSE?!?!

I am standing in a pile of manure right now searching for the dang horse. 

I have been stretched and tried so much in the last days, I feel like Gonzo in the Muppets Treasure Island, when they put him in the torture machine where they stretch him out and twist his body, except I didn't get tall and skinny afterward. 

I have been feeling really sick the past few weeks, and so fatigued. I find my mind racing all night, unable to sleep and then I am so exhausted all day. 

I finally went to the hospital today to figure out if anything is wrong. I had to have a bunch of tests done and have blood taken. The lab tech couldn't find veins on either of my arms (after some unsuccessful jabbing and poking unnecessarily with needles), so he had to take it out of my hand, which REALLY hurt.

As it turns out, nothing is really wrong with me, I just have a cough and cold from the kids, and I'm so fatigued because my immune system is having a really hard time keeping up with all my snot covered students. So I spent 45,000 Shillings and got brutally stabbed with needles to find out I just need to sleep more and drink more water.

On Monday, I took Rosie to the hospital to meet with the doctors from Germany. We left at 7am and I didn't get home until 5:30pm. It was a LONG day. After waiting around for hours and hours, she met with the doctors and they told her that surgery would not be necessary, they will be able to fix her legs with splints and casts, which is awesome! What is not awesome, is that she has malaria. She will be staying in the hospital until Friday, because her mom needs help taking care of her and administering the meds. Rosie puked on me twice. I love her, but I really wish she wouldn't vomit on me, it's gross. I had to deal with the Tanzanian doctor and pharmacist who didn't speak English and asked me to speak Kiswahili to them. Ummmm... I can bargain cab rides and teach numbers, letters, body parts, and days of the week, and hold a pretty decent conversation, but I know nothing about how to speak of medicine in Swahili. To top everything off, I don't really want to get into it, but I felt that Rosie's mother was trying to get a lot of money out of me (which I don't have) and trying to take advantage of me. Since I was a little kid, people have often tried to take advantage of me. It really upsets me, because I would give anything to anyone if I was able. I came home and sat down and just cried, because it was just such a long day and I was so emotionally drained.

Rosie had to get tested for malaria, which just requires them to take a little blood, but she was SCREAMING. That was so hard for me to watch. I am not her mother, but my heart was breaking. She was in so much pain, and I had to help inflict the pain on her, because it was for her own good. It gives me a whole new respect for my mom and all the other moms I know. You know your baby is in pain, and it's partially your fault, but you're doing it to help them. It hurt me so badly to see her hurting and not be able to do anything.

Okay, I'm done complaining. 

The point of this is that this has been a rough week.

But in the midst of all this manure, there is a horse.

I don't have any infectious diseases, it's just a side-effect of spending time with my awesome kids, which is completely worth it.

Rosie is in the care of awesome doctors, and she won't need surgery.

The horrible incident of the needle-poking-rosie-screaming resulted in her finding out she has malaria and being able to treat it.

Vomit washes off.

I am learning to be grateful in the midst of trials.

Adversity makes me stronger.

And maybe, like Gonzo, these trials will make me stand a little taller.

I am Braver than I Believe.

Rock everything you do.

I have a lot of best friends. 

It's a weird thing about me.

I don't have a million acquaintances.

When I become friends with a person, I give them my whole heart.

I have a lot of close, dear friends.

I was blessed with one of the most amazing bestfriends a person could wish for.

She was smart, funny, beautiful, sweet, compassionate, caring, kind, and a little cheeky.

My best friend meant the world to me.

I told her everything, and she did the same.

We laughed together, cried together, screamed together, and sang together.

We loved together and feared together.

We held hands when she told me the cancer came back.

When she went to Arizona for treatment, I gave her the teddy bear who now sits on my pillow next to my head in Africa.

A part of me died when she did.

And then, even after she was gone, she told me that was stupid. She told me I wasn't allowed to be dead.

So I came back to life.

With a vengeance.

Caiti knew that my heart had Africa written all over it. And she loved that.

We talked about the incredible things we would do. How we would one day change the world.

I am an idealist. I make crazy plans to make the world a better place. It's unrealistic.

Caiti loved that.

She loved my crazy ideas about coming to Africa and doing something about the things I don't like in the world.

I wish I could see her face when she saw that I was actually doing it.

Caiti once told me, "Rock everything you do."

Caiti shared so much with me.

Her life, her feelings, her thoughts, her lunch, and even her family.

That was the greatest gift she ever gave me.

I am still so close with her family. 

Her siblings and parents are some of the greatest people you could ever meet.

Her mother, Michelle, has been one of my greatest supporters in this journey to Africa.

Her siblings make me laugh more than most people in the world.

Today, I got a package.

I was expecting a package.

A group of people from my church put together a package for me and my students.

I was expecting that.

What I was not expecting, was the second package.

A brown box with a return address that said "The Brown Family"

I started crying right there in the post office.

Just because I was surprised, and blindsided by the kindness of friends.

The box had all of the delicious snacks I could possibly want.

Cookies, candy, popcorn, Kraft Dinner, a note, and a picture.

A picture of my bestfriend, Caiti, with the inscription:

"She would be so proud of you."

Sitting on my bed, holding a box of macaroni and a package of gummy worms, I cried.

And it wasn't tears of sadness.

It was tears of gratefulness.

Tears of truth.

It was something I needed to hear.

Caiti was the biggest advocate for people living out their dreams.

For people trying to conquer the world.

She would love this.

Even being gone from my life, Caiti continuously inspires me to be the best me that I can.

Sometimes I need some encouragement.

I need to know that what I'm doing means something.

Because you guys hear the good stories, the incredible things.

I don't tend to blog about the week straight I stay home because I got a bacterial infection, or the days when my students have tantrums and punch me.

I don't tend to blog about the days when kids pee on me, or the days when no matter what I do, I feel like I can't get through to my students and I feel like I'm teaching nothing. The week where I'm dealing with insomnia and literally stay up all night, not being able to sleep, thinking about the plight of the my students and how I don't think I can actually make any difference and start to hyperventilate because I am nobody.

"She would be so proud of you."

She would.

Because she understood something that I tend to forget.

The big moments are awesome, but the big moments don't matter alone.

You can have ten big moments and a hundred thousand little moments.

A hundred thousand moments of peeing kids or frustrating classes.

But without those, you only had ten moments.

Ten moments is nothing.

I have less than two months left.

And I want to fill those two months with moments, big and small.

And I want to rock every single moment.

Because they matter.

She knew that.

She rocked every moment.

Miss you Caiti, thanks for teaching me how to rock.

"Impossible" just means it will be more exciting when it happens.

It was a little over a month ago, that my good friend, Katherine, asked me to go check out a rehabilitation center with her.

Katherine has been to Tanzania twice and will soon be returning for a third time. She volunteers at a school called Hillcrest (shown above). Katherine is now back home in North Carolina. She is currently working on building a school for the Hillcrest kids and has inspired me many times over with the devotion that she has for these children.

So anyway, about a month ago, Katherine asked me to come check out a rehab center for one of her students, Rosie, who has Spina Bifida and club foot. I said I would come with her and check it out.

We went to the Usa River Rehabilitation and Vocational Training Centre. It's a magical place where they serve up massive helpings of HOPE! They said that they offered free physiotherapy for kids. Katherine was about to go home, so she couldn't take Rosie, so I said I would bring her every week. Before that, I had only met Rosie once or twice, and I knew that I didn't have the money to pay for cabs to Usa every week (it's really far) but I just knew that I was supposed to step up in this situation.

I've been taking Rosie to physio once a week, with the help of my friend/angel, Sharla. Sharla is a nurse from Canada, who is currently volunteering as a teacher at Rosie's school. Sharla comes to physio with us every week and then implements the exercises at school when possible. Sharla has also been helping me pay for the trips to the rehab center. She's incredible. When I said that I would take Rosie, I did not know how I would possibly manage. Like I said, the physio is free, but the cab ride to Usa every week is quite pricey. I don't know why I EVER doubt. Ever. Things always work out. I am so glad that Sharla was sent to me and that I have her to love and lean on through this process, because it is not always easy to go through rehab with a five year old. 

Last week, an expert physiotherapist came out from Germany to work with the patients here. She assessed Rosie and said that it will possible for her to walk one day! It will not be an easy road to get there, and even if she does walk, she will need crutches, but she can WALK! From the beginning, we were told she wouldn't walk, she could learn to be independent, but would never walk. I did not want to believe that. Towards the beginning of my time with Rosie, I was talking to my friend Terence, and he asked me what I wanted to come out of this situation. I said, "I want to see Rosie walk." He asked if that was even possible. I said "No, but I want it to happen anyway."  In order for her to walk, she will need a surgery to straighten her legs and LOTS and lots of intense physiotherapy. There is a group of orthopedic surgeons from Germany coming next month to do free surgeries. The doctor said that their Operating Room schedule is full and its not likely for them to be able to fit Rosie in, but its possible.

In my opinion, "not likely, but possible" means "definitely going to happen". Yesterday, they casted both of Rosie's legs, just in case they are able to fit her in for a surgery. They doctor asked us to distract her while they casted her legs so she wouldn't be scared, so that's why there are stickers all over her face. Because I believe that a reasonable way to distract people is to put things on their faces. 

This girl is incredible. She is five. FIVE YEARS OLD, PEOPLE! She has faced so many trials and tribulations in her five short years, but is already beating them and coming through strong on the other side. She's amazing, sometimes I look at her and have trouble breathing because I just feel so excited for her future. This girl is going to do incredible things in her life, I promise you. Just wait and see.

Rosie is stronger than she seems,

and Braver than she believes.

There is BIG news in this one. And I mean GINORMOUS.

Warning: I've been having a really difficult time deciding what to blog about, so this post will most likely be scatter-brained, disorganized, and probably neither particularly funny or heart-wrenching. Get over it, it's allowed.

Well, I did switch to a new school a few weeks ago. It's a special needs school and I love it. It's extremely difficult some of the time. Most of my students either have Down Syndrome or Autism. It's a whole different type of teaching, which includes a lot of "play-learning". I spend a lot of time playing catch with the kids and helping them write numbers and letters. Sometimes, they'll bite me or hit me or eachother. Sometimes the kids have episodes and I simply don't know the best way to help them, because I was never trained. But I'm so in love with them. In the past few weeks these kids have taught me so much about love and laughter. Oh, the laughter! I have one student named Husna who literally does not know how to stop laughing. We'll be tracing numbers, or playing with blocks, or singing our ABC's, or I'll be putting her shoes on, and she'll just look at me and CRACK UP. The first few times she did this, I just looked at her funny, but it's become contagious. She'll laugh and all of a sudden, I'm on the floor in stitches fighting for breath because I can't stop laughing. My kids know how to laugh SO WELL. Yesterday, one of my girls, named Salbaha, got in my lap, put her head on my shoulder and went right to sleep. I let her stay there for a good half hour. How does a person steal your whole heart so quickly without your knowledge? I feel like my heart has stretched more than the Grinch's. I don't know how all of the love that I feel can physically fit inside my body.

On Fridays, I'm still at Cheti with my original kids, who I'm obsessed with! Angel's there, and I am telling you that little girl has me wrapped around her little, perfect finger. They still need sponsors, so anyone interested, please contact me. You can message me on Facebook or email me at katrinahkathryn@gmail.com

Once a week, I take a little girl named Rosie to physiotherapy. She has Spina Bifida and is wheelchair bound. I don't know what results will come out of this. They can teach her how to work with her body. Build her arm strength, help her learn how to use her chair on her own, but I wish there was more. Tomorrow, we're meeting with a specialist who's coming over from Germany and doing a consultation with her for free. In March, there will be a team of German surgeons doing free surgeries, and they're schedule is full, but we're hoping and praying that they would be able to fit Rosie in. She is an unbelievable kid. When I first met her, she was pretty reserved and kept to herself, which is not surprising from a five year old stuck in a wheel chair who can't get out and play with the kids. Now, she does not stop smiling, she is excited at school, when she smiles, her entire face lights up like the morning sky. She is so precious, and her life is so precious, and I want to help her make the most of it.

It's strange living in a house with thirty people, I love it! There's so much community, there's always someone to talk to, someone to turn to, someone to laugh or cry with (I do plenty of both). Every two weeks, a new orientation group gets here. The people in these groups stay anywhere from 1 week to 6 months. It's great to get to meet new people all the time, but on the other hand, people are always leaving. When you live with someone in such a different place, like Africa, you form bonds with them. You love them, even if they're only around for a month. Because they're more than just a friend or coworker, you literally live with them. You wake up to their ugly mug, spend all day with them, and fall asleep to their whispers and laughter. You love them, you can't help it. I've probably said goodbye to at least thirty people since I've been here, I've stopped keeping track. Over the next few weeks, most of my closest friends will be heading back home. I do not know how I am going to handle that.

I've got eleven weeks left. I'm halfway through. Part of me is so ready to jump on a plane, hug my dog, and go get some enchilada soup from Chili's. Part of me, is ready to tie myself to the fence and sing "we shall not be moved". All of me wants to leave all my clothes and stuff behind and fill my suitcases with children, but apparently that's like frowned upon or something.

I've been doing a lot of self reflection lately. I was hoping that being here would open up my eyes to what I want in life, and in some ways it has, but in more ways, I've learned more about myself as I am right now. I've learned that I need to be more decisive. I'm usually cool with just letting others make decisions and going along with them. I know that I possess leadership capabilities, but for some reason, I'm usually content with just following others. I am so not going to change the world that way, and why would I waste my time on this Earth, if I'm not going to leave it a little bit better than when I got here.

There has been one major change in my life. And I mean MAJOR.
If you don't know me very well, this change will seem like nothing, but if you know me well, you may have a heart attack.

I,
Katrinah,
am. not. afraid. of. bugs.

I am not afraid of bugs.

Well, actually, I'm still afraid of bugs.

But now I just sit silently in my fear rather than SCREAMING AND CRYING.

This is a big deal, people. I'm an entomophobe. We're talking literal tears when there are bugs. I've almost crashed the car when there's been a spider on my windshield. Like its super weird how scared I am. The people close to me know that they are not even allowed to utter the word cockroach. I still don't like to even type it, it's taking everything within me not to backspace and delete that word. But I see them EVERYDAY. And do you know what I do? I flick them away, and try not let anyone know that I'm hyperventilating inside. I think it just takes getting out of your comfort zone to realize what's important and what's not.

So there's nothing huge going on around here, just my normal, everyday activities. But I love the changes I see in myself. I am learning more patience, I'm getting emotionally stronger, and I am becoming
Braver than I believe.

Help me, I'm poor.

I do not know where to start.
Yesterday, I walked into Cheti with the intention of it being my last day.
I was sad to leave, but I had made my peace.
The kids have their sponsors taking care of them, they're fine, right?
When I told the director, Zuma, that I was switching schools, he was sad, but said he understood.
Then he told me that every single student was dropped from the sponsorship program.
There was a contractual issue and over 80 kids lost their sponsorship.
WHAT?
How does this even happen?
I look to my left- there's a rock.
Turn to the right- oh look, a hard place!
And there's me, in between.

So what's the first thing I do?
I sponsor one.
Guess which one.
That's right, it was Angel, good guess!

Oh my gosh, look at that smile!



So what's the second thing I do?
I start asking questions.
I start calculating.
I start making plans.
I start crying.

I can't sponsor 80 kids.
So I start planning.
I can start a non-profit group and travel around to concerts and music fests at home to get sponsors for the kids.
It's expensive to start a non-profit, you have to pay for a lawyer, and all kinds of paperwork and stuff.
Okay, so I'll make paintings and sell those to pay for a lawyer. I can make bracelets, save all my tips at work.
80 kids.
I'll get the word out on facebook and twitter and pinterest.
80 kids.
I'll be relentless and pushy.
80 kids.
I'll talk to everyone I know about it.
80 kids.
I'll go to churches and schools and businesses.
80 kids.
I'll get them sponsored.
80 kids.
I'll vomit.
I'll just vomit.

Now that I'm done vomiting, I'm thinking with a clear head.
I'm going to spend part of my week at Cheti, and part at my new school, Nellito.
I'm going to get as many kids sponsored as I can while I'm here.
And when I get home, I'm starting a non-profit to get sponsors for the kids.
Still trying to come up with a name and everything.
I'm thinking Upendo le Watoto. (love the children)
I know that it will not be easy.
But whatever happens, it will work out.
Because I am not alone.
I am so blessed.
I have a very present Help in times of need.
Plus incredible friends and family.
I call out for help, and fifty people run to my side by spreading the word about the kids, offering to sponsor one, giving me moral support, or mailing me Ramen noodles!


So this is the part where I ask you to sponsor a kid.
It would cost either $15 or $30 per month depending on whether the child is in pre-school (up to second grade) or primary school (after second grade)
For $15 a month, you can give Salma a chance in life.

(and maybe she'll give me back my glasses)

 

We see those commercials on TV with the naked, crying kids and the sad song playing and the old man asking you for 35 cents a day.

I am not an old man and these kids are not naked and crying.

But I am asking you to help them.
These kids are happy, joyful, often loud little monsters who, at this point, have no idea that they could be dropped from school soon, because Zuma and I are trying to figure out how to keep that from happening.
These are MY kids.
They have been placed in my path, and I'm responsible for helping them.
Please, help me do that.
Even just by sharing this blog, on facebook, twitter, and pinterest.

At this point, I just need to collect money, and start paying the kid's school fees, and once I start the non-profit, I can begin an actual sponsorship program.

But if you do want to sponsor someone, we can start now! I can send you their picture and story, and give you updates on how they are doing.

This project is just a baby right now, but I know that it will be a success, because these kids deserve it.

Thanks for reading, and thanks in advance for sharing.
The kids say thanks too!
Asante sana!