Last week, when all of my friends back at ETSU were leaving the state to spend spring break at the beach, I was 5,000 miles away in West Africa.
For a split second I wished I could be at home to enjoy spring break with my friends, but then something happened that made me change my mind.
On Thursday, I was on my way to my room, when I ran into a couple girls I know who said that they were going to an orphanage in Madina. They asked me if I wanted to come along and I immediately agreed.
We got off the tro-tro and walked a ways until we finally came into view of the orphanage. Three teenage girls ran toward us and jumped into our arms giving us hugs and talking excitedly.
It caught me slightly off guard when I found myself carrying a 13-year-old girl down the street as she asked me question after question. We entered the orphanage gates and beautiful, barefoot children of all ages were swarming everywhere.
Most of the children wandered up to us and gave us hugs, while others stood back and looked at us curiously. A young girl walked by carrying an adorable 9-month-old baby girl.
I pinched her chubby cheeks and smiled at the expressionless infant, knowing I just had to hold her. The girl handed me the baby, Dadum, and then walked off.
I, realizing my newfound responsibility, carried this beautiful baby around the orphanage, wondering how on earth such a small child was not adopted. Then I heard from one of my friends that only one child has been adopted from that orphanage in the past five years.
My heart sank in my chest as I looked around the orphanage yard at the large number of children. One girl, Mameya (I could possibly be spelling this wrong), timidly approached me. She played with my hair and talked to me in her quiet, gentle voice.
I, wanting to see the condition of the inside of the orphanage, asked Mameya to show me her bedroom.
The power was out, as it is here from time to time, so she held my hand as she led me down the dark hallway. We walked into a little room filled with bunk beds.
“This one’s mine,” she said proudly as she pointed to a top bunk in the middle of the room. I noted that there were no mosquito nets, which is not a good thing in a malaria -ridden country.
We walked around the back of the orphanage where I saw a little boy climb a fence and pull a bowl of food from beneath a stack of wood.
I asked Mameya what he was doing and she said that he didn’t finish his lunch so he hid it from the other children.
“Have you always lived here?” I asked her as we meandered around the orphanage. “Yes,” was her simple reply.
“Well, do you know your family?” I asked. “Yes,” was her response again. But when I asked her if they ever came to visit, she said, “No.'”
The 8-year-old lowered her head and kept walking as if she did not wish to speak about the matter any more. I decided I would not pry any further; but I did tell her that I was an orphan once too, but was adopted as a baby.
At this, her face lit up and she smiled ever so slightly. Michelle, another exchange student, was talking with another little girl about her situation.
She asked her if she had always lived in the orphanage. The 10-year-old replied that she used to live at home with her parents. “Why don’t you live with them anymore,” asked Michelle. The girl ran her hand across her neck as she said, “Some people came in one night and killed them, so they brought me here.”
Michelle could not help but burst into tears when she learned what this child had been through. I’m sure each one of those children has an incredible story of survival and hardship.
Their beautiful faces are masked with smiles, but deep down they are yearning for love.
I will only be here for three more months. What will happen then?
I was born in Florida to a 19-year-old college student who could not take care of me.
She put me up for adoption and I was living with my adoptive family within three weeks of my birth.
What broke my heart is that these children don’t have that opportunity.
I never had to live in an orphanage, or even a foster home. There are so many couples in this world that cannot have children, but want nothing more than to be parents.
And there are also so many children in this world who do not have parents, but want nothing more than to be part of a family.
I was sent to the Peace and Love Orphanage for a reason.
My first few weeks here were exciting, but slightly meaningless.
I now understand why I am in Ghana.
This is why I’m here.

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