Reflection

By Raquel Wilbun

As a tiny droplet of moisture dripped down onto my top lip, I couldn't tell whether it was a tear or sweat. The air conditioning was of course not working on this day, and the more I tried to inhale into a deep breathe the more I felt like I couldn't breathe. My eyes were bursting with flames. I could feel my heartbeat in my throat. My mouth was unresponsive as my thoughts bounced inside my head of what to do, what to think, and how to feel. I felt myself moving, not my legs, but the seat I was sitting on. I kept telling myself to get up, to say something, to say anything, but I couldn't. The bus kept going. I wanted to look back, but my head was buried in my hands. Disgusted with myself, and the absurd amount of used tissue I was holding, I cried. I couldn't believe how easy it was to leave her. After seven days of getting to know the most belligerent, sweet, little girl, I put her down to sleep as I sang her a last lullaby. Although I'm not a fan of corny, cliché love, I couldn't help myself saying me love you as I watched her sleep, wallowing in my own tears.

Jenny and I met on a bright sunny day in one of the most beautiful places in the world. It was my first day of a long and tiring week of community service at many different places in Kingston Jamaica. The first stop on the first day was an awful horrid place called Marigold. At first I was fooled by the neon gold painted building with pictures of happy little children playing and reading on the outside, but then I walked inside the door. Marigold, was a place of fear, it was a prison of some sort that disgusted itself to the outside world as just another orphanage. The only thing that made this place bearable were the children inside of it. Although they were constantly thirsty, beaten, ignored, and forgotten, they had a sense of life and happiness that you don't see in most places.

One by one I looked at the kids trying to figure out who would be best to teach. And that's when I saw them. I could not look any further after I saw Jenny's beady eyes looking straight at me. For a second it took my breath away as I realized what seeing a soul felt like. Her eyes engulfed me and I refused to look away even when we were told to pick a child or group to help teach. Eventually, I decided that this little 2 year old was not going to intimidate me with her staring and I sat down at the table next to her. Curious about what I was supposed to be doing I looked around at my other classmates for ideas. As I turned back around I felt something hard hit my chest. At first, I thought it might have been her hand, but when then I realized it was a building block. This little girl had really just thrown a red giant Lego block at me with no shame as she once again looked up at me with those eyes. By this point I realized that this girl obviously didn't like me very much, so I got up to leave when I heard a murmur behind me. I turned around to two little stubby arms reaching up towards me; I guess she did like me after all.

After that Jenny and I were like peas and carrots. For the rest of the week we played on the slides, we danced, and her favorite activity was to play on the swings. Swinging to her was therapeutic. She would be so happy to go to the swing set as she tugged and pulled on my arms to get there, but as soon as we started moving she would fall asleep right inside of my arms. Once on the swings I was next to a friend, Jewel, who kept talking about new music back home. "Rihanna's new single is actually really good", I told her. I knew she obviously didn't know what single I was talking about by the confused right eyebrow raise, so I decided to sing the chorus for her. Jenny, who I thought was uninterested in me at the moment, as she played with my digital camera, heard me say "Ah ah ah I'm so hard" and she started humming along. She didn't know the words, but I pretty sure she got the rhythm right.

When I had to leave Marigold for the day, it woke me up from the fairytale I seemed to be living in with Jenny. My trip advisor had just given us a 30-minute warning for when we were to leave, but I was too occupied with Jenny to care. When that time rolled around I tried to put Jenny down, but she wouldn't let go. She literally clasped to my arms for dear life and it took me all of 3 seconds to figure out why. This little girl has nothing, literally nothing, but what's worse is she also has absolutely no one. As I tried to pry her hands from mine I felt devilish leaving her and trying to push her away from the gate I was leaving out of. I tried to not get her to cry, but she balled her eyes out watching me leave her. Nothing can erase the memory of her standing there alone, holding the gate iron, with tears welling up in those beady eyes.

I went back to Marigold five more times that week, each time being more moving and heart-renching than the last. On the second day we brought them gifts from former students who had been on the trip. Inside of these gift bags I expected to see clothes and shoes and maybe even a game or two, but to my surprise there were only water and snacks. I couldn't fathom why they would send things that were already given to them, or so I had thought.

The longer I stayed at Marigold the more awful things I saw. There were times when the workers at the orphanage would yank a 3-year-old for going in the wrong direction, they would slap a 6-year-old for eating too much food, and they would ignore a crying baby with a full diaper for hours at a time. Once, on the third day, I saw Jenny jumping up and down as I walked in the door. Her being happy to see me warmed my heart, until I picked her up and held her. I discovered that she had on no diaper, but she had stained size 7 underwear falling down her legs. Disgusted by the lack of care and hygiene, I asked a worker why she didn't have on the proper undoes and where I could get some to redress her. Annoyed by my presence she responded, "I don't know," and simply walked away. I had to find a diaper myself and never let Jenny out of my sight again.

There was another occasion when one of the orphans had to be taken to the hospital because of dehydration. This made me realize why the past students had sent water bottles as gifts. Jamaica was in a drought and water shortage as a result, and even worse the orphanage had very little water to give out to the children. Upon realizing this I looked down at the backpack I was carrying and there Jenny was next to me trying to take my giant water bottle, full of cold, purified water, out to drink. My stomach turned as I remembered being told earlier in the week by my trip advisor, Do not, I repeat, do not feed the or provide the children with food or water." Confused as to why I could have an entire water bottle to myself, that I most likely would not drink in full, I asked my trip advisor for an exception with Jenny. "Can I just pour the water into a cup for her to drink, even if we are alone?" She replied with a stern "No, there are no exceptions in this case. Giving her water, would although benefit her temporarily, will make things harder for her when you have to leave." Feeling helpless about the situation, I made a promise to myself to no longer drink from my water bottle while I was in Jenny presence. I couldn't force myself to drink when she was right there in front of me dying of thirst.

The group I was with was equally affected by the happenings of being at Marigold. We also went to three other locations in Kingston, including an orphanage for disabled children, a nursing home, and a squatter's community. Although they necessarily might not have been affected at Marigold, they went through the same emotions with a person from one of the sites we visited. It was so bad that when we got to Montego Bay, for the last day before heading back to the US, none of us ate for the first 24 hours. We decided as a group we would not give into the "western way of living" while the very children we fell in love with were starving on the other side of the island. It got to the point where the resort made me sick after a while. All I could see were plates piled high with food and an unlimited supply of water and how Jenny had none of this simply only a couple hours away. For the next couple months my diet changed so drastically I lost 5 pounds in the first 2 months after coming back from the trip. To say the trip affected me deeply would be an understatement.

There was a point when I discovered why Jenny and I made such a dynamic duo: I saw parts of myself in her. She seemed to reflect who and what I am at any given point in my life. Of course it's not unusual to say that she seemed to copy what I was doing, but the more time I spent with her the more I seemed to copy what she did too. When I was quiet, Jenny would sit in my lap and lay her head on my chest and when she would cry I would place her in the same place. When I got home later that week I realized I was doing the exact same thing with my mom. I found myself from then on not being able to count with seeing her fingers, swing without hearing her laugh, or sing without hearing her voice. Love songs were never the same again and neither was I. After that first day with her, her laugh mirrored mine, her little chubby hand seemed to fit perfectly into mine, and after a while, my soul was mirrored in her eyes. I felt like hers and she felt like mine.