1st Piece
Where The Daylight Ends
Inspiration from Shel Silverstein’s Where the Sidewalk Ends
There is a place
where daylight ends And before
the night begins And there the sun melts
like butter on warm toast And there
the moon fades in like a passing ghost
And there the day guard leaves
his post, To rest upon the gentle
mountain breeze. Let us leave this place
where the earth lays bare And the skyscrapers
stab the winds Past the glow of fluorescent
light We shall start our journey into the
starry night, And follow the fireflies in
flight To the place where daylight ends.
Yes we’ll start our journey into the night
And follow the fireflies in
flight For the stars, they
mark, and the stars,
they know The
place where the
daylight
ends.
2nd Piece
Meeting Muangi
I sat in my car on the way home from school. It was the spring semester of my senior year
in high school. At the red light, I started to think about the upcoming summer. I will finally be
finished high school; what am I going to do with my time off? I thought about my choices. I
could get a job, do a lot of nothing, or hang out with friends. My first semester at Penn State
University would begin in the end of August, so maybe I should just take some time to rest. As I
parked in front of the house and pulled the mail out of the mailbox, I saw a letter from the church.
I opened it and read about a mission’s trip my pastor was leading to Kenya. It would be three
weeks long and the pastor would be taking around 25 people with him. I thought this was a
chance of a lifetime to experience something not many people will. I was right. I decided to go
on the trip and experienced things I never thought I could. The single greatest event was when we
visited an orphanage and I met a little boy named Muangi.
We pulled up to an enclosure. It had a rusty fence and a place to gather water out front. A
white sign with black letters read Mai Maihu Orphanage. Unlike what many people think of
Kenya, this area was not a flat, dry plain with wild animals and dried up trees. It was surprisingly
green and was at the base of a mountain that could be mistaken for one in a tropical forest. We
pulled through the gate down a dirt path. We passed a small garden and two cows grazing on
some grass on the left and some cement buildings on the right. Little boys and girls were running
along side of the car with big smiles. As we stepped out of the buses, all of the children looked at
us strangely. For many of them, it was the first time they had seen a white person. We walked
into the main hall. There were tables with benches that filled the room and the children gathered
around them with us spread throughout. I was nervous. Many of these children’s parents died
from HIV and AIDS and a number of them we infected as well. I didn’t know what to do. The
younger children who had not started primary school yet could speak little to no English. I
couldn’t see how I was going to be able to communicate to them.
The manager of the orphanage greeted us in English. He told us how excited they all were
to have us there and said they would sing some songs for us. We all stood up and the children
started to sing in Swahili, which is the national language in Kenya. I felt completely out of place.
When they were finished singing, our pastor stood at the front of the room and said that we had
gifts for them. We handed out coloring books and crayons first. All of the children were so
excited. They didn’t have these simple pleasures we all grew up with because the orphanage
could barely afford necessities such as food, clothing, and medicine. This is something I realize I
take for granted as an American. Next we handed out beanie-babies. I have never seen children
with smiles as big as the ones these orphans had. To top it all off, we handed out candy and soda
to them. Most of the children had only had soda and candy a few times in their lives. These were
treats that most of them would not have again for months or even years.
As I sat there, I was paying special attention to a little boy on my right. If you have ever
seen a commercial on TV for World Vision about sponsoring a child for less than a dollar a day,
this boy looked like he could be their poster child. He looked like he was about five and had a
well-worn red sweater on, with a green collar, along with blue pants, and shoes. I asked one of
the boys who could speak English what his name was and he said it was Muangi. When he heard
his name he looked up at me and smiled away as he drank his Coke out of a glass bottle. He
didn’t know what to do right away so I helped him start coloring a page in his book with different
states license plates on it.
I didn’t know what to do next. Should I do my best to try and communicate with him or
should I just sit there and wait until it was time to leave? I started to think. In a few weeks I will
go home to my family and friends and all of the comforts I am fortunate to have. Muangi will
still be here with no family, only a few friends, and the few things we gave him, well as his bear
essentials. The least I could do was try to be his friend.
Muangi looked up at me with a bright white smile and a runny nose. I put my hand
around his shoulder and he cuddled into my arms. I soon realized that the best way to
communicate with him was to show the slightest affection that he doesn’t get often enough. Soon
I was overcome by how happy Muangi was to just have me put my hand around him. I sat him on
my lap as we continued to color in his book.
When it was time for them to go out and play, he grabbed my hand and took me with him.
First, he took me to his bedroom. He was on the bottom bunk in a room with about 20 bunks in it.
The bunks were simple metal frames with a thin pad, which I guess you could call a mattress.
The room was blue but a lot of the paint had been chipped away. He put his beanie-baby, which
was a lobster, and his book and crayons into his chest and locked it.
Next he took me to his classroom, which was one of a long row of classrooms that were
built of cinderblocks. He pointed to different things in the room and would say a word that I tried
my best to pronounce. I would say the word in English and he would just smile not really
knowing what I was doing. He led me all over the complex showing me everything as I held his
hand. All we could do to communicate was smile at each other and utter simple words, but it was
enough.
Soon the orphanage leaders were calling the kids back to the main hall. I picked him up
and put him on my shoulders, which he liked a lot. It was time for us to hand out quilts to the
children, that a woman from our church had made by hand for all of the 150 plus kids. As we
handed them out the children became ecstatic. They didn’t care which one they got. It didn’t
matter what color it was or what pattern it had on it. They were glad to have one and cherished
the one they were given as their own. Muangi put his quilt in one hand and my hand in the other
and led me back to his room. He laid out his quilt on his bed and looked up at me and smiled.
That is the best gift I have ever been part of giving hands down.
After putting the quilts on the beds we all gathered in the grass for our presentation. We
sang a few songs and then a few people did a skit for them. I sat in the grass and Muangi sat in
my lap. He was starting to feel like a little brother to me even though we had only shared a few
words that I had picked up from him and the older boys.
After a few more hours of playing hacky-sack and soccer with the boys, as the girls played
jump rope and singing games, it was already time to leave. It was the toughest goodbye I have
ever had to say. I connected with Muangi only like I ever have with my family. He was so happy
to have a friend visit him and I felt like I was betraying him by leaving. I got into the bus after
giving him a hug and we started to pull away. He ran alongside of the bus waving as we left.
Even though he knew he would never see me again, he still was smiling. That seemed like
something beyond his years, most likely because he has had his fare share of goodbyes in his life,
though that seems overwhelmingly unfair.
As I sat in the bus thinking about what had just happened, I was wondering what I would
be doing if I were not on this trip. I would most likely be returning from work and sitting on the
couch watching TV. If I had not taken a step away from my normal life to go on this trip, I would
have missed out on a moment that I will never forget. During a summer that I could have just sat
at home, I decided to do something I believe was much more rewarding. This moment is one of
many that helped me decide that I wanted to become a teacher. I wanted to be able to make a
difference in children’s lives, even if it is as simple as sharing a few hours and a soda with a child
that just needs someone to care.
3rd piece
Video: Music by The Kijabe Boys Acapella Group