Asante

The boys have left, and our life is settling back into the "normal" routine. 
I guess that's good.
Every time I walk past the kids room, I think about them.
I wonder what they are doing today. 
I wonder if their host family this week packed their lunches and drew smiley faces on their oranges.
I wonder if they are using the little tiny flashlights that I gave them.
I wonder if they are begging this weeks' family to let them watch "Bruce Lee", or "Jackie Chan" even though they are not allowed.
I wonder if they are going to bed on time like they are supposed to, or staying up late playing cards, and laughing, and eating popcorn.

Here's some of the stuff that I really want to remember:
 
Like for instance, sugar is a NECESSITY for tea...and lots of it.  Like, L-O-T-S and L-O-T-S...and tea is appropriate anytime of the day. Even when it's 100 degrees. 


 

And, don't bother with elaborate meals.  Nothing tastes more like home then Rice, Red Beans, Potatoes, Mangoes, and Avocado.
 
 
Also, a hug and simple "thank you auntie" pretty much makes the work of taking care of two more totally worth it.



Mzungu Mama was an affectionate term for some of us white hosts.  However...if you pronounce it wrong, it sent the kids into shocked laughter...so I'm assuming there is probably some other translation that isn't maybe so nice.....

Nothing changes the mood of a joyful dinner then finding out that they didn't know when their birthdays were.

The language barrier doesn't really matter when it comes to practical jokes, and tricks.  And always carry a spare pair of car keys in your pocket if you let a 14 year old boy with a spicy sense of humor sit in the front seat, near the door lock control.  Always.

Listening to belly laughs from kids while the hubs mimics Jackie Chan is pretty much priceless. 

Watching my kids give up their space, their room, and share their parents for a week and come out of it wishing they could do it more. 


Feeling gutted and broken when you find out little bits of what their life was like before the Asante school took them in.

Allowing them to cook breakfast for us just because they really wanted to.
 

Hearing their prayers for friends back home, to find sponsors, and be guaranteed one meal a day, and medical attention.

Hearing joyful chatter from 6 little bodies in the back of our van.
 
Willingly forking out crazy money for some "American" experiences like Mickey D's and Scandia.
 

 

Watching them perform on stage, and get standing ovations every. single. time.

Sharing tears with other families who participated in the experience with us, as we hugged them for the last time, and watched them drive away on the bus. 

 And finding a thank you card tucked under a pillow, meant for us to find after they were gone....

Asante means "thank you".
So "asante" to the boys who shared a little bit of time with us, and left a huge behind a huge impression.