Today was a rough day. This afternoon I found out that Kefa was born with HIV. I don’t know how to lead up to that statement, so I have to just say it. It is devastating and horrifically unfair. Moraa told me that when he was left on her doorstep he was a “dead baby”. She didn’t think that he was going to make it more than a few weeks. Now it is almost a year and a half later and he is healthy and happy. It is just impossible to wrap my mind around the fact that he is struggling with such as serious disease. I can’t be morbid about it because I believe that he has so much life to live, it’s just very upsetting. These kids at the Faraja Children’s Home have already dealt with more traumatizing things in their short lives than most people will have to deal with in a full lifetime. She has an 11 year old, who before landing in the care of Mama Moraa, was displaced and homeless in Kibera for months. She had 3 brothers show up on her doorstep crying, unable to tell her their story for over 2 years because they couldn’t handle the memories. Each of them are individuals, with stories that boggle the mind. It’s so easy to forget that, but Kefa’s story was a rude awakening in a lot of ways. I promise the next post will be happy, but if you are going to be a part of the journey, no matter how positive this experience is and has been, there are always roadblocks and bumps in the path. It is part of the experience and it is part of life.