Fear Factor

Five days back on the dark continent. But it has not been dark at all, except for one very dark factor. But I'll get into that later. First, the good stuff!

I'm enchanted with the world of Green Eyes in Africa right now. I've not felt this good in quite a long time. Before I left, we were betrayed on a major scale by our three-year guard, Jean, by our cook Adrienne, and even by some of our own kids. It involved stealing, lying and deliberate sabotage of our organization once we called them on their actions.

After that, we moved into our much smaller new center with no surrounding cement wall, and we were robbed three times. The robberies were appear to have been orchestrated, by our former employees. The robbers took my laptop and other very specific items. They took all of the cash out of our German volunteer Tanja's wallet...but left all of her I.D. cards and credit cards. It was a message of, "we want you to know that we know you...this was not a random crime."

So that said, before I left, things had never been worse. I was emotionally broken, as were Tanja and Olivier, our African director. Tanja went back to Germany and faced serious depression in bed. I was just sort of numb and angry for a long while.

Now, a new page has turned and I can feel that our work is back in a strong place. The kids who now live with their families are doing fine on their own terms. They didn't necessarily like all of the rules of Green Eyes in Africa--hand washing, English lessons, limited T.V., no curse words, etc. So they're happy. They've all passed at school, and now that we support them and their families, it's working out quite well.

For those who are at the center all the time it's nothing but good times for the moment. Summertime vacation! Hooray! We're looking forward to fun times and they've already begun.

The dance shoes donated by Dance Unlimited Studios in Reno and Dancewear Unlimited in Utah have already been put to good use. We've been tap dancing up a storm as well as working on our overall technique.

It's so cute to see the little ones try so hard in dance. Modeste, who is ten but looks five, is a hoot. He puts his all into each step but never gets one step right. Joseph, 11, is a trooper and gives his all. Raissa is a natural and picks it up at an impressive pace. Joel gets it but has to work hard. And Adriana, does just fine as always.

We work up a sweat and it’s so fun to hear all of our tap sounds echo throughout our living room/dance studio in unison. For me dance is healing. Not to mention a great workout.

Grandma Abomo (our cook ) is her sweet self. Deb from Dance Unlimited donated some very beautiful new clothes and I gave them to Grandma Abomo. She was ecstatic and yesterday we had a photo shoot (see attached photo) in her new clothes. This is a woman who has never felt beautiful, who has never been anything special in life. She's lived a long, hard 50 years and it shows when you look at her worn hands that look like dinosaur claws and into her yellow eyes with scar tissue from who knows what. She's known nothing but death, "witchcraft," hard labor, and caring for her orphaned grandchildren.

So I dolled her up with the works: Make-up, hair, even false eyelashes. She saw the photos and was overcome. I could tell she was in shock that she could look so beautiful. That's the kind of feeling I love--knowing I gave someone a boost of confidence and self-esteem....maybe for the first time.

Her youngest grandchild, Olga, is my new best friend. She's three years old and is filled with smiles and giggles. She watches me constantly and when I look her way I get a grin to last a lifetime. I only speak English to her, she doesn't understand a word, but she definitely understands the language of love and she knows that Uncle Ryan adores her!

I'm excited to watch her personality develop. She's still very much in the "African zombie child" stage of life. This means that she's too complacent, too calm, and too numb to the world around her. This comes from being one of too many children, from being raised by people who don't have time to devote a lot of attention to her, and from being raised by people who have not been exposed to child psychology or the needs of a toddler when it comes to mental stimulation.

Olga is on her way to blossoming into a new child. But another baby under our care is not, I'm afraid. Jeanine now lives with her Grandmother and her epileptic mother five minutes away from our center. We've built rooms on what was essentially an animal stable before with now walls. It's nicer now, and Jeanine likes living close to her Mom. But there's a little baby that lives there, and she's just blank. It is so sad.

I remember the first time I met her. She was walking, so she's probably about two. I hunched down to say hello to her. I smiled, jokingly poked her bloated tummy, held her hands and talked baby talk, expecting her to at least giggle a little. Nothing. She stared at me with the African zombie child eyes as if she could see right through me. I hate seeing that look.

Our motto, "Every Child Deserves a Childhood" encompasses the idea that if a child, especially a toddler, is not filled with smiles and giggles, they're not being properly cared for. Maybe with time we can awaken this baby girl. But Jeanine's Grandma is a very difficult person so we don't spend much time at their house. We've learned that if you don't have the support of extended family members, it’s almost impossible to have a deep influence on a child.


Moving on to the shining star of Green Eyes in Africa. Joel. I may be biased because I've raised this little guy, but he's truly an exceptional spirit. Just watching him do what he does is a treat. He's curious, kind, funny and always seeking to do better and be the best he can be.

Joel and I don't even speak French anymore. I speak English at my normal pace, with an unsimplified vocabulary, and he understands everything.

Yesterday in the kitchen after we were done eating Joel was dancing in the doorway like a clown, imitating "white people" butts and then African ones. He came into the kitchen with a towel stuffed in the back of his pants and his lower back arched. He made all of us laugh and laugh...he's a constant source of joy to us all.

I was organizing things in my room later and I heard music playing in the dance room--he couldn't see me watching. He was doing some sort of superstar dance of his own making, throwing his "jazz hands" into the air, tossing his head back, and attempting his own version of break dance moves. The kid cracks me up.

At story time he came in and I was too tired to finish the book about eyesight with him. So he went to the stereo and listened to Pirates of the Caribbean 3 on book/cd. He's an endless fireball of energy and I know for a fact that if Joel is protected and guided through Green Eyes in Africa, this kid is going to make waves in his lifetime.

Our night guard arrives. First thing he does is find Joel and shout, "JOEL!" with a big smile. I'm so lucky to have this kid in my life. He is my inspiration.

Raissa is Joel's female equivalent, albeit much quieter and ever so much more skeptical about life. She cracks me up with her little 12 year old 'tude. She's always got her eyebrows raised and her lips pushed out, hiding her grin, as she looks at me as if I were crazy. Love that girl.

Those are the good things going on so, why is this blog called "Fear Factor" ? It's because the ghosts of past break-ins are constantly in my brain. Even as I write this blog on my laptop on our front porch, my eyes and ears are constantly adjusting to every noise, wondering if we're being robbed.

I wake up at night numerous times. Each noise is a masked man with a machete. Each crack is a board from the ceiling collapsing and a man dropping into the room.

This morning I was up at five, God knows why, and Olivier came into the living room in the darkness and I just about had a heart attack. We have a night guard and two dogs, but I'm simply not over the wounds of having been robbed before. The broken glass everywhere, the missing ceiling boards, the machete left behind after the last attempt....these things are always in my mind.

I'm nervous every time I leave my laptop in my room for fear that when I come back the window's metal bars will be cut and my stuff will be gone again. Losing my last laptop was like losing a person filled with memories and information I can never replace.

So I'm happier than I have been in years overall, but the fear factor lingers on. I'll never feel fully safe or secure in this country again. Maybe once we get a wall built I'll feel better. But the fact remains that if someone wants to get into our house to steal or hurt us, they can. They can climb any wall, cut any bars, kill any dog or guard...on and on.

I bought air horns for security. We have them hanging in each room. They scare the hell out of me each time we test them so hopefully they'd do the same to a robber. They certainly wouldn't be expecting that sort of awful sound blasted in their face.

We have used the air horns for two purposes thus far. One horn is in the car. There's something I cannot stand in Cameroon and it's that men urinate anywhere and everywhere in public, exposing their genitals to surrounding crowds and to my kids. One guy was doing this on the street and I just could not help myself--BEEEERRRPPPP! I blew the air horn at him as we drove by. He jumped and hopefully got pee all over himself. Damn, that felt good!

And this morning Raissa refused to get out of bed after Olivier woke her up to get ready to take her final school exam so I suggested a little air horn action. She got out of bed!

But we can't keep up these superfluous uses of the air horns or there won't be any air left in the cans to scare off robbers. Hopefully they'll remain full.