Tuleeni Orphanage

Here, we have placement in the morning, followed by lunch at 1, and then we either continue placement activities, have free time, or do other types of volunteering. One of the places you can go in the afternoon is an orphanage called Tuleeni (Too-lay-nee).

I made my first trip to Tuleeni earlier this week. I had been to other orphanages here, but this one is very different. It is basically a cement wall that encompasses a courtyard – a term I use here very loosely. The pebbled courtyard is probably about 30 feet by 30 feet, and is also home to three goats, two chickens, and four wild dogs. There is a large mound of firewood in the centre, and a tap for water that sticks out of the ground. Within the cement wall, there are several rooms where the children sleep 7 or 8 to a bed. Seeing 8 kids in a bed is a beautiful, yet solemn sight. You will likely see nothing more adorable in your life, yet when the realization comes that this is not a cute sleepover, that this is actually how these kids sleep, every night, the novelty fades.

Tuleeni is home to about 30-40 children between the ages of 2 and 14, many of which are HIV positive. They eat porridge twice a day, everyday. They do not have clean clothes. There is no electricity. There are no toys. And yet, the children are happy. I will share with you three of their stories:

When we arrived, most of the children were at school. There are several, however, who do not attend school for various reasons. The first child I met was a young girl, probably around 4, named Asha. Asha is HIV positive and has a disorder that resembles cerebral palsy, but she is so sweet – always smiling and always looking for a hand to hold. She cannot speak, but she does make sounds that are pretty clear indicators about how she is feeling. Mentally or physically disabled children are often abandoned in Tanzania. Asha was found in a field when she was just an infant and brought to Tuleeni.

The next child that made a lasting impact on my first visit was an 13-year-old boy named Felix. Felix spoke better English than everyone at the orphanage, including those who worked there; he often acted as a translator to the others. He is so smart. We talked about his school, what he was learning in his classes and what his favourite subjects were. Felix loves English and Math; he does very well in these classes. He is very interested in Science, but admits it is harder than the others. In Tanzanian schools they do not have music class, art class, phys Ed, or music. All the classes that make Western kids actually want to go to school are left out in the education system here, yet the kids don’t mind. They look forward to learning the difference between an adverb and an adjective, even though back home, most kids fell asleep during these lessons. We talked about ice hockey, admittedly Felix would have rather stuck to soccer, but I figured I would do Gary Bettman a favour and spread the love of our sport. Felix wants to be a pilot when he grows up. I told him he’d have to come visit me in Canada.

Then, there was Irene. Irene is 5, and a very pretty little girl. She doesn’t talk a whole lot, she mostly just sat and held my hand, yet she had a wonderful smile that would brighten anyone’s day. Irene, like most kids here, was a pretty big fan of the swing (where you hold their hands, lift them up, and swing them back and forth). I will never forget the infectious laugh she released during this. I was then told Irene’s story. No longer than a month ago, when Irene was walking to school, as kids 3 and older do here, she was called into a man’s house and raped. This 5-year-old child, so innocent and pure, was raped. It has yet to be determined if she contracted HIV.
I sat beside this quiet little girl and held her hand, and more shockingly, she held my hand. At Tuleeni, Irene wouldn’t see many men, so for her to trust me enough to hold my hand, or even sit beside me is hard for me to understand. You meet these children, you hold their hands, you play with them, and then you here their stories of abandonment and horror. At this point, I felt nothing else than a strong urge to hold these children, to bring them home. I understand this is not possible, yet some part of me wishes it was. I think how much better Asha would be cared for, she could go to a school, she could learn. Felix could change the world one day. And Irene… Irene could be loved and protected.
I have told you the story of three children, but there is so many more with similar stories. I am going back to Tuleeni this afternoon, to laugh with Asha, to hang with ma boy Felix, and to hold Irene’s hand. Without a doubt, I will meet another three children today and here their stories.