In My Dreams I Dance. Anne Wafula-Strike

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СКАЧАТЬ three months would last for, but I didn’t like the sound of it at all. And I didn’t want to be away from my family for even one day.

      But my dad insisted. ‘You know I only have your best interests at heart, Anne,’ he said, stroking my hand. However much I cried, he remained determined I should go to school.

      

      Finally the day dawned and my mum and dad took me to Kisumu on the bus. I sobbed throughout the journey and my mum spent all her time trying to hush me and wipe away my tears.

      ‘This school will be very good for you,’ she said, ‘and you’ll be coming home in the holidays, so we won’t be apart for too long. We are fortunate, too, that the Salvation Army makes no charge to attend the school.’

      I wasn’t convinced.

      ‘I’m expecting great things from you, Anne,’ my dad said gently, ‘and how will you achieve in life if you don’t go to school? We’re lucky to have found such a nice school for you. They are used to looking after children like you and your life will be much easier for you than at an ordinary school. You won’t have to struggle here and so you can really concentrate on getting a good education.’

      ‘I don’t care about my education, I just want to be at home with all of you,’ I said.

      Nothing my parents said could console me and when we arrived at the school my face was crumpled from so much crying. My dad carried me through the gates and then put me down in the grounds.

      I became hysterical because I knew that I was about to be parted from my mum and dad.

      Also, the school looked huge to me. I’d never seen anything like it. It was much worse than I’d expected. I’d thought maybe it would be a little school, not a massive place like this. I was sure I’d get lost all the time. And how would I ever be able to walk across the enormous grounds in my crutches and callipers? I could see some of the staff and older children walking around and they all looked like giants compared with me.

      Joyland was actually a modern, sturdy building surrounded by beautiful gardens and everything about it was peaceful and well ordered, but even if it had been an exact replica of paradise it wouldn’t have impressed me at that moment. I clung to my mum’s legs and started to wail. I couldn’t imagine life without the woman who lovingly catered for my every need.

      Some of the staff members came to greet us and advised my parents that it would be best if they left so that I could get used to my new life.

      My mum and dad hugged me and whispered once more that I’d be home for the holidays very soon.

      ‘Please don’t leave me,’ I begged, but they walked away.

      Feeling completely bereft, I stared helplessly at their disappearing backs. I felt completely lost and alone. How could my parents abandon me like that?

      I looked around in absolute bewilderment. I was surrounded by strangers.

      Then one of them, a well-built, bubbly woman with very short hair, came up to me.

      ‘I’m Mama Salome,’ she said, beaming. ‘I’m the house mother for your dormitory. I’m going to bring a wheelchair to take you to the place where you’ll be sleeping.’

      I didn’t know what she was talking about. I didn’t know what a wheelchair was and I didn’t know that as well as teachers, Joyland employed house mothers, who were, as the name suggests, substitutes for our own mothers.

      A few minutes later Mama Salome returned with the chair. I had never seen a chair like that with big wheels attached to it, but I was relieved when she lifted me into it. I was still struggling to get used to my callipers and crutches and it was hard for me to stand up or walk for any length of time. I was exhausted from the journey and all the crying, and desperately wanted to lie down and go to sleep so that I could block out this strange world I was suddenly alone in.

      ‘We only have two wheelchairs,’ Mama Salome explained, ‘so we use them as taxis to ferry around all the children who have difficulty walking. Sometimes we squeeze two or three children at a time into a chair.’

      I had already noticed that some of the children could walk without assistance, although others relied on callipers and crutches to get around.

      Mama Salome showed me where the spotlessly clean bathrooms were and demonstrated how the flushing toilets and showers worked. I was terrified by the sound of the flushing and the ferocious splashing of the water from the shower. Later I discovered that many of the children were so frightened by these strange contraptions that the first time they saw them they ran away.

      At home my mum had washed me using a bucket of water. I hadn’t been able to use the traditional long drop toilet—simply a deep hole dug into the earth—so she had allowed me to defecate onto a piece of paper that she then took outside to the long drop. Here, because the toilets were so clean and there were no stairs to navigate, the children could easily crawl on their hands and knees to them, something that would have been very unpleasant at a long drop toilet. All the facilities at the school were designed to make life as easy as possible for children with physical disabilities.

      Next I was shown the place where I was sleeping, which Mama Salome explained was called a dormitory. I had never seen such a big room for sleeping in before, nor so many beds lined up in neat rows. They looked very comfortable, but I couldn’t lie down and sleep yet.

      Next Mama Salome offered to help me unpack. She folded the clothes that my mum had packed for me, but then started scratching her head.

      ‘Where is your underwear, Anne?’ she asked. ‘There doesn’t seem to be any here.’

      At first I didn’t know what she was talking about and felt very embarrassed that I hadn’t brought something with me that was apparently important.

      At home I had always worn trousers and it had made life easier not to wear any underwear. At Joyland, though, all children had to wear underwear underneath their uniform of brown tunics or trousers and yellow blouses or shirts.

      ‘Never mind. I’m sure we can find something for you,’ Mama Salome said kindly. ‘Come, I’ll show you around a bit more.’

      Joyland was surrounded by a wire fence. The staff room, library and Salvation Army major’s house were all close to the main gate. There was also a nursery school and I saw young children there wearing the tiniest callipers and crutches. I soon discovered that they were taught independence from a very early age.

      There was a tailoring room where uniforms were made to fit each child, because many of the children did not fit standard clothes. Those with curved spines or misshapen limbs were given specially made clothes that fitted perfectly and felt very comfortable.

      All the buildings were surrounded by well-tended flowerbeds. ‘The more able-bodied children look after these,’ Mama Salome explained.

      After all the events of the day, I was relieved when it was finally time to crawl into bed. I was used to sharing a bed with my mum or my sisters and it felt strange and lonely having a whole bed to myself. I missed the warm bodies and breath of the members of my family as I drifted off to sleep.

      

      The next morning I began to learn about how things worked at Joyland. The school day was highly structured, unlike life at home, which was much more laidback.

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