- A reminiscence on Kasisi
Children’s Home and me
April 28, 2013
It is Easter,
and after a stressful fortnight of marking and processing my University course
exams, my BP reaching a crescendo, I decided to pack my bags and head for
Kasisi Children’s Home.
This one Easter, I had
a welcome that evoked in me a sense of realizing my place at Kasisi. Often the Sisters
would, with bewitching joviality and love, jokingly rebuke me for having been
away too long. Could never get to understand their conception of time. Their
concept of "too long" seems to be a translation of a week being
equivalent to months. In my opinion, I am never really away that long. I have
come to learn to never mind them. I always tell them I am a prodigal son. I am
always back anyway, whether it takes me a week or months.
This Easter had
a resonance that was different. A resonance that painted a picture of my
beginnings at Kasisi.
In the glow of the
setting sun, as the girls opened the gate for me, one of them said, “Welcome
back home, Mr. Mbinji”. Well at least,
she pronounced my name correctly, though the “Mr.[1]” always makes
me think I am bête noire. I prefer
being called, Mbinji.
Over time, the children
have had different variants and pronunciations of my name. “Mr. Mbinji”, the older
ones would get it correctly. As for the little ones, it is always hilarious.
“Mr. Beans, Sister.” I wonder when they ever did see me in a blue habit! And of
course, there is, “uncle, daddy” too.
Anyway, back to the
welcome. I felt sad and happy, at the same time. Sad, because perhaps, I had
stayed away too long. But mostly happy, because, indeed I was home again. That
the girl welcomed me back home, is simply a loving acknowledgement that I and
her belong in the same place and time.
Often it is said, home
is where when you go, you are welcome. But Kasisi has taught me differently.
For Kasisi, home is where when you go, you belong.
How then did it happen
that I belong?
Well, it is a very
short story. Mamusia (Sister Mariola), Mayo (Sister Jolanta), and the other Sisters
all have a similar story of my first appearance at Kasisi. Rather devious of
them, but pleasant and memorable. Not very different from mine, anyway.
This Easter, sitting
outside, watching the brilliant stars and the clearly visible Milky Way, I went
back into memory lane. Why did I come into Kasisi? Why did Kasisi come into me?
Is there a difference? It has now been slightly over 16 years, and I will tell
you how. Perhaps, the how will answer the question, why.
The year was 1997. The
place was Kaapstad, iKapa, or as it is commonly known – Cape Town, South
Africa. I was by then a year into maintaining the website for Afronet (the
Inter-African Network for Human Rights and Development) which was based in
Lusaka, Zambia. And it was one of those days when my wondering mind, reached
deeper into realms I had never thought of before. The internet for charity!
In the cold wet days of
July 1997, I searched for children’s charities back home in Zambia. I sent
emails to about five or so charities. All I wrote was that I could develop and
host a website for them as a means of helping them have a wider reach in terms
of intending donors and sponsors. I also did indicate that I will be doing it
at no cost to the charity. At the time I was sending the emails, I really did
not have any reserved domain for such a project. The idea was to piggy-back the
charities’ websites on the Afronet domain. An idea which thankfully the head of
Afronet went to the moon over. After all, it would add to Afronet’s image. Well,
it did.
“As an organization concerned with human rights and development, Afronet
recently added to their website an advertising window for Zambia's largest
orphanage..,” OneWorld.net acknowledged at the time.
Of the five or so
charities I had emailed, only one responded. And it was Kasisi Orphanage, now commonly
known as Kasisi Children’s Home. The Sister-in-charge, who I did not know at
the time, but who signed herself as Sister Mariola Mierzejewska gave me the
green light. Her last name was a mouthful to me, and I did at that time wonder
what kind of name it was. Couldn’t wait to meet this nun with a rather strange
name.
Anyway, in 1997 Kasisi
Children’s Home was born on the internet under the domain name, http://afronet.org.zm/kasisi. Later it moved to its
own domain name, http://kasisi.org, donated and hosted by
Craig Anderson in the UK. Somewhere in end 2008, we lost the domain, and all
efforts to buy it back failed. Fortunately, in 2009 Thierry De Jonghe registered
http://kasisichildren.org in Belgium, where it is
currently hosted. Thanks to these guys. I am just still the tardy webmaster!
In 1998, when I briefly
visited Zambia, I decided to visit Kasisi Children’s Home. I needed to
understand more about the place. I really did not even know where exactly in
Lusaka it was located. I had to ask around for directions. I hit the road with
apprehension as I had now learnt it was way out of town. And the road was a
mess! Kasisi River, I remember calling it for some years to come. Rainy season,
was a think-twice road to use.
When in Kasisi Mission,
I got lost and had to ask for directions, again. Finally, I located the place.
It was ethereal love at first sight. The front had (still has) well tendered
gardens, with breathtaking flowers. And there is 1956, inscribed on top of the
main entrance door. A rather halcyon welcome to the place.
I strutted in like I
was entering my own home. And this elderly Sister followed me. “Who are you,”
she asked. “I am Mbinji,” is all I said as if my name was a valid visa to the
place. She really did stare at me. I think she was not charmed at all. I did
look like a lost street adult. Torn Levis, untucked Che t-shirt and wild-west
boots, I guess I did not cut a sight she was used to at the Home. Especially
when such person seemed to want to roam around, like he belonged. Later, I
learnt she actually did think I was a lost street adult seeking sanctuary at
the Home.
That first day was
spooky.
“Hi,” a smiling
youngish looking Sister says.
“Hi,” I say and I ask
where I could find Sister Mariola. She walks me to the office. Behind followed
the elderly Sister, still sizing me up. Well, this one is seriously protective
of this place, I thought. The younger Sister quickly left before I could enter.
Guess, she too was wondering if I was indeed a street adult.
I knocked, and the same
Sister who just led me to the office opened the door.
“Hi,” she said, again.
I do use expletives quite often, and I nearly mouthed one. But well, this was a
place run by nuns, I had to be modest.
“Welcome to Kasisi,”
she said.
“But we already met.”
“No”, she replied.
Well, I think she must have used a rear door after leaving me at the main office
entrance. Kind of weird of her, I thought. Fact is, I had not met this one other
Sister.
I entered, and there
was Sister Mariola. A Sister I had only met through emails and website update
pictures. She was rather different from my mental images of her. In my mind the
Sister-in-Charge, was a stern faced nun in a dull blue habit. A no-nonsense
type. Reminiscent of the Catholic brothers that taught me at lower secondary
school.
That in the pictures
she sent, she smiled; I thought she did that just for the website. Up to that
point, I really had never interacted with nuns. The only nun I think I knew then,
was Mother Teresa of Calcutta.
Sister Mariola in
person was describable only in two words. Awesomely magnetic! With time, I came
to learn that all of the nuns and Kasisi itself are actually awesomely
magnetic.
With a smile on her
face, that reminded me of mom before chiding us, Sister Mariola really did size
me up, too. Looking back, I really did not cut a figure that was commensurate
with the project I had just started for them. I, in person and I, on the
internet was incongruent!
Then the elderly Sister,
Sister Jolanta, and the spooky ones walked in. Well, they were identical twins.
Or the twin angels of Kasisi as one local newspaper once dubbed them. These are
Sisters Janina and Maria.
That first day, I was
appraised by Sister Mariola, Jolanta, Catherine, Christina, Janina and Maria.
They were surely doubtful of this scrawny looking young man in torn jeans, and
who drove in with a very noisy car (as Sister Catherine later described my Ford
V6). Years later, Sister Mariola and Jolanta did own up to their apprehension
of the intentions of the scrawny looking young man in torn jeans. Today I am
humbled they did give me a chance. Could be it is divine providence.
Or perhaps, they
believed in Mother Teresa’s saying, “Let
no one ever come to you without leaving better and happier. Be the living
expression of God's kindness: kindness in your face, kindness in your eyes,
kindness in your smile.”
Indeed, they were kind
not to have judged me harshly from my looks. That day, I left Kasisi knowing I
will be back and back again thereafter. Thus, when I finally returned home, in
the year end of 2001, Kasisi was the first place I visited even before settling
down.
In the years after
that, my bond with Kasisi strengthened. I do all sundries of voluntary work for
the Home and some benefaction for them. I even managed to get Afronet to be a
benefactor for Kasisi. But this did not last, as Afronet folded up in 2004.
Yet, I continued, as my belief in Kasisi was not inspired by Afronet, but by
own beliefs and the Sisters themselves. Their laughter, jokes and love would
always resonate around me whenever I thought of the Home. And of course the
little angels that dwell there! “Mr. Beans, daddy,” are sounds that are always
musical to me.
Looking back today,
there is no regret, no worry, and no questioning why Kasisi came into me. This
is because, in giving myself to Kasisi, Kasisi has also giving itself back to
me a thousand-fold.
There have been dark
periods in my life, and Kasisi has always been there for me. The darkest was,
when I was nursing an HIV+ relative. I had nursed one already nearly a
decade before then. He, later, passed on. For this one, I told myself, not on
my watch again. It was psychologically trying for me. But, Kasisi and the
Sisters stood by me. They nearly brought me to tears with the unwavering
support they gave me. Till today, I feel I will never be able to thank them
enough.
In other dark times in
my life, I have had to remind them that they really should not be concerned
with me, the street adult or prodigal son. Like the time I came back from South
Sudan sickly. They picked me up from the airport straight to the Home. In the
sick bay that day, I shed tears of my taedium
vitae (weariness of life), and mostly love.
I reminded them that they
have two hundred and something children to look after, but there was no
negotiation. Huh, Mamusia can be stern! Often
it is like I am talking to deaf persons. Gosh! They never listen to my
protestations. Sometimes, I think they have connived to make my life
beautifully miserable, theirs too. Some celestial conspiracy!
Well, perhaps in ending
my reminiscence, I should answer the question, why I came into Kasisi and
Kasisi came into me. The answer is simply that through no predetermined design,
I had just simply walked into a place where angels walk with us. Ora pro nobis.
