Maya at Matumaini

As Adam has previously described, Matumaini is an orphanage we visit many afternoons to play with the kids who live there. It is both a desperately sad and deeply inspirational place. The “facility” is nothing more than a ramshackle structure, the kids are the poorest of the poor, rarely have enough to eat, no toys to play with, no family to care for them, and no one to even care what happens to them. Yet, they are full of joy and love in way that inexplicably transcends their circumstances. A volunteer who visited for the first time remarked that they have nothing we have and everything we don’t. I thought that was a profoundly true comment. While we all enjoy playing with the children and can’t help but be touched by their circumstances, Matumaini has struck a deep, and likely lasting, cord in Maya.

Most first timers at Matumaini, myself included, have a moment or two of hesitation or apprehension over their dire circumstances, or even how to communicate and engage with them. Terrible as it may sound, there’s also a moment of concern about what diseases one might get from hugging or even just touching the kids. Maya has none of this. She seems to be possessed of this empathy that relieves her of all concerns. There is something about the experience of being there with the kids that touches her in a place that I don’t think I completely even understand. Indeed, I suspect she does not even fully grasp—or could even clearly articulate why it means so much to her. I think she intellectually understands that these kids have so little, particularly in comparison to her own life. Indeed, this trip was inspired at least in part by our desire to expose our children to situations like these and instill a sense of responsibility to the world beyond ourselves (as she reluctantly, yet eloquently, stated in her Bat Mitzvah d’var Torah). However, her response to these children clearly transcends a sense of duty, pity, empathy or even guilt. Watching Maya with the kids there is absolutely stunning and I am frequently fighting back tears as I watch her engage with the children in such a kind, open and intensely genuine manner. The moment she walks up the path, the kids flock to her and you can almost observe Maya relaxing into what seems to be her most natural element. She plays hand games with them in Swahili, hugs and cuddles them and never lets the language barrier—or any number of other potential barriers, inhibit her. She is just so at home playing with the kids, making them feel special and loved in a way that they rarely get to experience, except with other volunteers (specifically Kim and Erin who originally “adopted” Matumaini and made it an integral part of the CCS Rau volunteer experience).

One afternoon, Maya insisted on going to Matumaini even though it was late and almost time for dinner (and she had yet to do any of the school work she was supposed to do). I let her go (can you really tell your kid that she can’t go visit the orphans), but told her that she needed to be back by 7:00pm sharp (mostly to ensure her safety)—and if not, she would be punished. As I was walking her there, I asked her what the worst punishment would be and suggested taking her computer away. She was hesitant to tell me what the worst punishment would be, but finally admitted that the punishment she dreaded the most would actually be forbidding her to go to Matumaini because she can’t stand being away from the kids. I cried. On Monday, as we tearfully left our volunteer compound in Rau for our next adventure (more on that later), Maya unequivocally stated that of all the extremely close friends she made during our time in Rau, she would miss the Matumaini kids the most. I know it is a cliché, but she is actually growing up before my eyes and I feel so proud and fortunate to be able to observe it all at such close range.