I made a visit to the orphanage this afternoon while Emerson was at the beach with his friends, and have these two stories.
I was playing a jumping/throwing/"where did he go" game with three of the little children: Buttercup, Violet, and Dandelion. They loved doing it over and over and over, and I had the quiet Buttercup and Violet laughing out loud and the energetic and irrepressible Dandelion waiting his turn (sometimes) and enjoying laughing at the girls, because he knew his turn was coming back again. Well, I wasn't wearing a very low-cut dress, but I guess if you are tossed overhead it was enough to look down and see some cleavage, and after a while that is exactly what Dandelion noticed. He was fascinated. Curiosity quickly turned to action, and as I put him down he pawed in my dress. I stood up and moved on with the game, but he was determined, and after a time or two the girls noticed and had the same wonder that he did, and Violet helped him try to look down my dress. I knew what their childish minds were thinking, so I didn't mind, but I did put a stop to it before Dandelion managed to actually grab a breast and pull it out.
This is a culture where breast-feeding is a simple part of life. One frequently sees a mother feeding her baby, and I'm sure that many poor toddlers continue to get milk for a long time for the simple reason that it is free and they are hungry. So probably Dandelion and Violet actually remember nursing, and they certainly have seen it all around them for their whole lives.
And they were suddenly face to face with the most peculiar things: pale white breasts. What are they? Are they actually breasts? Could a baby latch on? Actually, what about me, could I have a sip? Are there nipples on those things? And goodness, if there are nipples, what color are THEY??
And just to prove that my mind was on the right track, for his next turn, Dandelion came at me with his mouth open! I wasn't willing to just bare all in the courtyard, but I'll have to pull aside one of the English-speaking nannies tomorrow and get them to let the children know that white women do indeed have working equipment.
The other moment was on my walk home, and this isn't so much unusual as just one example of some of the little interactions that I have with the children almost every walk. The children in our village are getting to know us, and figure out we are friendly (at least I am; Emerson is a little unpredictable) so their courage and friendliness is increasing.
As I passed a little group of children, one little girl grinned and darted out right over to me. I recognize her and she often comes up to hold my hand and laugh happily for a moment, and I think she's even one of the ones who has given me a bear hug. Today she had her hand out, so I took it and shook it and greeted her politely and formally in Luganda, which made her puff up with pride and laugh. So then all the other children wanted to have their own special moment too. A little boy came up to me, and with the general eagerness that children have to show adults things, held out what was in his hand and said "mzungo look, look dis." It was a knucklebone or something like that which he had been chewing on, and his hand was running with bloody cooking juices as he held it out to me. I tried to duly admire it, and heard one of the women in the background laughing with half a sigh as she said "a meat!" Apparently it isn't just me who thinks that knucklebones are not the most interesting gift in the world. As I moved on from the fascinating knucklebone, I almost knocked into an older child carrying jerrycans of water. Before I could apologize he had moved, but the next jerrycan-carrier had gotten an idea, and he swerved over so his face was right next to mine, with dramatically raised eyebrows, and in a comically deep voice intoned "bye." It all happened in just a second and he had walked on. Then I was past that group of lively and creative children, but all the other children nearby had seen how friendly I was and called and waved busily, and of course I smiled and waved back.
At least no one dived at my cleavage with his mouth open!
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