Hi everyone!

We've had an incredibly busy two days since I last posted! On Sunday we went in search of a church and after an unsuccessful attempt found the straw market (it is called the straw market because the Kenyans used to lay out what they were selling on straw). It was such a neat experience- it was essentially a street market and the second we walked into it we were bombarded by venders grabbing us and asking us if we were from America and knew Obama (they love him here). They continued to make comments such as "all americans have money so you buy this." So although somewhat stressful, it was a really fun experience. I even bartered a few of my own items in exchange for some neat animal carvings. They loved the hairbows I had on my wrist and kept asking if I had any pens or pencils. For some reason, this were novelties to them. Isn't it weird to think the things we hardly value as a luxury item for these people?

At the market, we were right beside the Ya Ya where we have been buying our groceries. We are having to buy all of our water bottled so we had to buy another 5 gallon jug and lug it back to where we are staying. After dropping some of our groceries off, we went to the orphanage (it's about a 5 minute walk from where we are staying).

They especially needed us with the toddlers on Sunday because one of the workers was sick so we administered vitamins which was quite a struggle, assisted them in eating dinner (they're learning how to use utensils), and bathed them. After a very long day of chasing them and wrestling them into their beds, we left the orphanage around 7 pm.

Today, Monday, we went to the orphanage expecting another full day of helping the sitters care after the 50 kids. When we got there, Rhoda, the social worker, said she desperately needed our help with paperwork. We learned that there is no such thing as a copy machine so all of the documents need to be copied by hand. Also, the orphanage can only afford one social worker so a lot of the time she could spend in the field collecting documents from hospitals and police stations. Rhoda said that the adoption/paperwork process could go 3 times faster had she someone just to hand copy the documents for her.

After we copied all of the documents she needed, she treated us to riding along with her to collect forms in Thika (a suburb about an hour outside of Nairobi). We took a city bus to the outskirts where there are vans about the size of an American suburban that can squeeze 15 people into it. We climbed into one of the vans and rode to Thika. There, we went to the "square" where the District of Registering Persons, Courthouse, and Registry of Births and Deaths is. All of these were essentially shacks with papers overflowing out of closets. They don't use any computers for their records which really slows Rhoda's work. She sometimes has to visit these places 3 times asking for documents before she actually brings one back. The mail system here is really illegitimate so it's unsafe to use it and all of her work must be done in person. All of the entrances to these places were outside as if they were connected like a strip mall. Each office was about the size of a bedroom and 3-4 cramped workers managed to share desks to get their work done.

After we went to the "square", we visited the police station to collect another form before we retreated to the orphanage. The police station was the sketchiest thing I could have ever imagined. You walk into a building about 10 yards wide and then face a counter with no one behind it and proceed through a tiny hallway to get to the outside courtyard area where the polic chief's office is. There is only his office (with a lot of people waiting in line to meet him) and a room where there were two men arguing profusely about a legal matter. The other part of this courtyard was the jail. The jail consisting of one cinderblock room without a roof and one gate for all of the prisoners. As we waited to meet with the police chief, a small baby that couldn't have been more than 5 years old was peeking through the gate at us. When I asked Rhoda, she informed me that Kenyan law says that if a mother or father breaks a law, his/her entire family is put in jail so there are often tiny children/kids in jail. You have the option to pay for porridge twice a day. It broke my heart seeing this tiny child behind bars for her parent's mistake simply because child services isn't accountable in Kenya.

Afterwards, we headed back to the orphanage in enough time to put the babies to sleep and headed back to our room. It's been a long few days, but so worth it. The children are precious, it almost feels like this isn't a mission trip at all sometimes because taking after the babies can be fun. I've become attached for one child in particular, his name is Ansley and he is about 4 years old. I've taken plenty of pictures of him, so be sure to look! He has big beady eyes and a chipped tooth, haha, I'll get better at captioning the pictures!

xoxo,
Coty