Hi guys!
This morning I was at the OSSO orphanage for kids with special needs again. At the beginning, we gave them all baths--it took a pretty long time, because they only had one tub on our floor, so they could only wash one child and dress one child at once. And it's hard, because a lot of the kids are partially paralyzed or have limited muscle tone, so the volunteers and workers have to do pretty much everything.
After everyone was showered, we fed them. The tias make up food for each child, blending it according to their needs (some can feed themselves and are able to eat more solid food, while others need to be fed and usually eat liquid food. These kids are usually the ones with swallowing issues.) Then we brushed and braided the girls' hair. There is only one male volunteer, and he asked me if it was painful for girls to get their hair brushed. I told him to just be gentle. It's strange how much I assume is common knowledge based on my experience, but others have no idea about because they have no need to.
All the girls here have ridiculously thick hair. It's gorgeous, long and ebony, but a bit difficult to deal with, especially when they can't support their necks and you have to lift then off of their wheelchairs to brush it. Also, everyone here has gorgeous eyes. Their irises are the darkest brown, so deep that you can barely see their pupils.
After the morning routine, I went to spend more time with Maria. She is less interactive than a lot of the other kids at OSSO, and therefore usually gets a little less attention, so I try and work with her more than the others. I'm figuring out the other ways to make her beautiful little giggle come out. Along with rubbing the base of her thumb a certain way, I've learned that she laughs during certain parts of songs, usually when the speed changes or the notes get high, as well as a lot of other noises and some tactile things (she's blind, so has to use her other senses).
She scared me today, though. She has some issues with her lungs, and the tias have to do chest percussions on her every morning (pounding her chest and back with cupped hands). She started coughing, which is fairly normal, but wouldn't stop, and the noise sounded like it was too big for her tiny body. The tias told me to just pat her on the back until she was able to breathe again, but it was scary. It's very easy to forget that these children are so ill, but many of them will live their entire lives in the orphanage.
I also was with Laura, the girl who takes her doll everywhere, today. She had seen that some of the volunteers had friendship bracelets on, so she wanted to make one for Wawa. Together, she and I managed to braid the string to fit around the doll's wrist, and she was so excited to tie it on (and then wanted one for herself.)
In the courtyard of the special-needs orphanage, there is like this musical metal plate statue. It's basically a bunch of metal disks tuned to different pitches that the kids can hit with a rubber hammer. One of the younger boys, Cristian, figured out that if you put a handful of dirt on the metal plates and then hit it, the vibrations will make the dirt and pebbles jump all over. We had a good time doing that--I tried to actually play a song, but most of the plates are too out of tune to make much of a melody. But he has this awesome bounding laugh, and would crack up whenever the pebbles would move. I guess it's teaching physics?
For the second shift of the day, I went back to the orphanage next door for babies (these kids are healthy). Cuma wasn't there for some reason, but another boy named Hector was. Hector was the youngest of the four--he didn't really know how to crawl yet, but was very serious and pensive.
Erika, the girl who wants to be held all the time, is absolutely adorable. She only knows one word--"wow!" Whenever something happens, it gets a wow. She gets picked up--wow. There is a window (even if it's the same one she saw five minutes ago)--wow. There is a decoration on the light switch--wow. It's hilarious. If everyone had the wonder of an Ecuadorean infant, the world would be a more fascinated place. She also loves to dance and wave her little arms around, and will try to sing along to anything she hears, regardless if she knows the song or not. And whenever someone new walks into the room, she runs up to them and puts her arms up, demanding to be picked up. Which, of course, we do.
Something really exciting happened today! There were possible adoptive parents for Manuel who came to visit (I think. I couldn't exactly tell what was going on, and our scrappy Spanish was no match for the conversation that they were trying to have.) But they came and played with him and seemed to love him. (One of the volunteers said that he should be like a used-car salesman and point out Manuel's good features.) This is wonderful news, especially because Manuel is the most developmentally behind child in that age group--he was born with Fetal Alcohol Syndrome, and is a little slow in everything he does. But the couple played with him for a while, and then randomly left and brought the volunteers little yogurts. I'm still not quite sure what that was about, but whatever. It was very nice of them. Although I have no idea where they got the yogurts from (it was in a sealed package though, so it was safe.)
Back at the volunteer house, we've been having fun. Most of the group is from Utah or Idaho, where cursing can get a bit odd (not that I curse normally--rats!--but still.) We had a debate over the use of the phrase "oh my heck"--I think that it sounds ridiculous, but some of the Utah natives fought very hard that it was a legitimate exclamation. It just sounds really funny to hear.
One of the volunteers also bet the volunteer director that he wouldn't eat an entire spoonful of garlic. He took the dare, and swallowed basically a tablespoon of chopped garlic, much to his wife's dismay. He got ten bucks out of it, and he seemed fine, but it was disgusting to watch, so I can't even imagine the taste of it.
It's getting sort of late here, so I have to go. Bye guys!
This morning I was at the OSSO orphanage for kids with special needs again. At the beginning, we gave them all baths--it took a pretty long time, because they only had one tub on our floor, so they could only wash one child and dress one child at once. And it's hard, because a lot of the kids are partially paralyzed or have limited muscle tone, so the volunteers and workers have to do pretty much everything.
After everyone was showered, we fed them. The tias make up food for each child, blending it according to their needs (some can feed themselves and are able to eat more solid food, while others need to be fed and usually eat liquid food. These kids are usually the ones with swallowing issues.) Then we brushed and braided the girls' hair. There is only one male volunteer, and he asked me if it was painful for girls to get their hair brushed. I told him to just be gentle. It's strange how much I assume is common knowledge based on my experience, but others have no idea about because they have no need to.
All the girls here have ridiculously thick hair. It's gorgeous, long and ebony, but a bit difficult to deal with, especially when they can't support their necks and you have to lift then off of their wheelchairs to brush it. Also, everyone here has gorgeous eyes. Their irises are the darkest brown, so deep that you can barely see their pupils.
After the morning routine, I went to spend more time with Maria. She is less interactive than a lot of the other kids at OSSO, and therefore usually gets a little less attention, so I try and work with her more than the others. I'm figuring out the other ways to make her beautiful little giggle come out. Along with rubbing the base of her thumb a certain way, I've learned that she laughs during certain parts of songs, usually when the speed changes or the notes get high, as well as a lot of other noises and some tactile things (she's blind, so has to use her other senses).
She scared me today, though. She has some issues with her lungs, and the tias have to do chest percussions on her every morning (pounding her chest and back with cupped hands). She started coughing, which is fairly normal, but wouldn't stop, and the noise sounded like it was too big for her tiny body. The tias told me to just pat her on the back until she was able to breathe again, but it was scary. It's very easy to forget that these children are so ill, but many of them will live their entire lives in the orphanage.
I also was with Laura, the girl who takes her doll everywhere, today. She had seen that some of the volunteers had friendship bracelets on, so she wanted to make one for Wawa. Together, she and I managed to braid the string to fit around the doll's wrist, and she was so excited to tie it on (and then wanted one for herself.)
In the courtyard of the special-needs orphanage, there is like this musical metal plate statue. It's basically a bunch of metal disks tuned to different pitches that the kids can hit with a rubber hammer. One of the younger boys, Cristian, figured out that if you put a handful of dirt on the metal plates and then hit it, the vibrations will make the dirt and pebbles jump all over. We had a good time doing that--I tried to actually play a song, but most of the plates are too out of tune to make much of a melody. But he has this awesome bounding laugh, and would crack up whenever the pebbles would move. I guess it's teaching physics?
For the second shift of the day, I went back to the orphanage next door for babies (these kids are healthy). Cuma wasn't there for some reason, but another boy named Hector was. Hector was the youngest of the four--he didn't really know how to crawl yet, but was very serious and pensive.
Erika, the girl who wants to be held all the time, is absolutely adorable. She only knows one word--"wow!" Whenever something happens, it gets a wow. She gets picked up--wow. There is a window (even if it's the same one she saw five minutes ago)--wow. There is a decoration on the light switch--wow. It's hilarious. If everyone had the wonder of an Ecuadorean infant, the world would be a more fascinated place. She also loves to dance and wave her little arms around, and will try to sing along to anything she hears, regardless if she knows the song or not. And whenever someone new walks into the room, she runs up to them and puts her arms up, demanding to be picked up. Which, of course, we do.
Something really exciting happened today! There were possible adoptive parents for Manuel who came to visit (I think. I couldn't exactly tell what was going on, and our scrappy Spanish was no match for the conversation that they were trying to have.) But they came and played with him and seemed to love him. (One of the volunteers said that he should be like a used-car salesman and point out Manuel's good features.) This is wonderful news, especially because Manuel is the most developmentally behind child in that age group--he was born with Fetal Alcohol Syndrome, and is a little slow in everything he does. But the couple played with him for a while, and then randomly left and brought the volunteers little yogurts. I'm still not quite sure what that was about, but whatever. It was very nice of them. Although I have no idea where they got the yogurts from (it was in a sealed package though, so it was safe.)
Back at the volunteer house, we've been having fun. Most of the group is from Utah or Idaho, where cursing can get a bit odd (not that I curse normally--rats!--but still.) We had a debate over the use of the phrase "oh my heck"--I think that it sounds ridiculous, but some of the Utah natives fought very hard that it was a legitimate exclamation. It just sounds really funny to hear.
One of the volunteers also bet the volunteer director that he wouldn't eat an entire spoonful of garlic. He took the dare, and swallowed basically a tablespoon of chopped garlic, much to his wife's dismay. He got ten bucks out of it, and he seemed fine, but it was disgusting to watch, so I can't even imagine the taste of it.
It's getting sort of late here, so I have to go. Bye guys!
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