Yesterday, we said goodbye to Ramabanta and its wonderful inhabitants. I never could of imagined that I could become so attached to children I barely knew. I know their names and ages, but little more, and yet saying goodbye was one of the most difficult things I've had to do. I must admit that I even started sobbing. Their laughs and grins, ear-to-ear, were more infectious than a plaque. To be honest, it was what kept me going during this time away from home, family, and friends. I have given my time and energy to them and have gained so much in return.
Refelecting upon our time in Ramabanta, I found that I was actually eager to get up and make the trek through the village and along the skinny path lined to the house we assisted Habitat for Humanity in building for an orphan-headed household of four. I constantly found myself worrying about these children of Ramabanta, who came to play each day at the worksite. It breaks my heart that these children, so pure, loving, and intelligent, have to endure such a rough life. They really have no other choice. They are stuck in the never ending loop of poverty.
Some of these children wear ill-fitting clothes. Some wear clothes that are tattered and torn. And some even wear the same clothes for multiple days. Their families just can't afford to provide them with more or adequate clothing. To make matters worse, the current drought makes water even more valuable so sometimes the clothes and children don't get cleaned very often. These children are covered in dirt, from head to toe, but they alwayes seemed to want to wipe the dirt and grim from my skin. When asked why they simply gestured to the color of my skin, uttered "beautiful", and then shook their heads when asked about themselvs. My heart was crushed for in their eyes, the color of my skin made me more beautiful than them and therefore my porcelain white skin must remain untarnished. What kind of society has engrained this idea that beauty is due to the color of your skin? Then it hit me like a load of bricks, the Apartheid, although long over, was still affecting the way that blacks perceive themselves.
A million thoughts ran though my head. Why hasn't anyone told or shown these children any differently? It is not like there are no other whites in Lesotho and South Africa! Do people just not have compassion for others anymore? I certainly hope that is not the case! It really isn't that difficult to be nice to one another. Afterall, we are all the same. We are all humans. Why can't people see that? More importantly, why do I sometimes judge people by their appearance and/or possessions? I've been judged by my appearance way too many times and I despised it. It hurt me, no it devistated me, is more like it. I can't stand to hink of putting someone else through that pain and yet i do it every time I judge someone without really getting to know them.
These children are truely beautiful, inside and out. My hope is that over the past week or so, I have convinced them of their beauty by taking pictures, playing, and spending time with them, and that they continue to remember that beauty is not about looks or possessions, but instead is what is on the inside. It is interesting to me that it took a handful of fun and crazy Basotho children to ingrain such an important life lesson into my mind. A lesson that I want to incorporate into my everyday life!
To my friends and family reading this, Happy New Year! I love and miss you all! Oh and Happy Birthday, Grandma Deckard!