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.
The house mothers woke us up at the same time every day. When I first arrived Mama Salome helped me to get dressed, as I was unable to manage this by myself, but the emphasis was on teaching us to become independent.
I was allowed to have breakfast in the dormitory at first, as I was unable to get to the dining room, but before long I managed the journey on my crutches and callipers and joined the others.
Our meals always followed a similar pattern—porridge for breakfast, maize and beans for lunch, and ugali for supper, a form of maize with vegetables. We were also given tinned salmon and tuna regularly and I grew to love eating them. The only fish I had tasted before was tilapia. We were given a big chunk of cheese three times a week and at first I thought it tasted like soap and used to trade it for fish. Eventually, though, I developed a taste for it.
Whenever I cried because I was missing my family, Mama Salome put her arms around me and said, ‘Don’t cry, my child, you and all the other children are here so that you can have a better life.’
She knew all the children in her dormitory very well and made sure all of us were well cared for and happy. She had a little bedsit next to our beds where she cooked her own food.
Although the children at Joyland had all sorts of disabilities, we were all equal and nobody stared at anyone else as if they were a freak. Whatever the disability, everyone fitted in. There were plenty of children who had been disabled by polio as well as those with conditions like cerebral palsy. Some children used to dribble and were unable to talk, but the staff found a way to make sure they joined in with everybody else.
A lot of love and care went into supporting us and as the weeks went by I stopped crying and actually began to enjoy myself. The physical longing to return home began to subside, although I still missed my family very much. The environment was comfortable, stimulating and much more suited to people with disabilities than the barracks in Nairobi. More importantly, I was surrounded by kindness. I began to realise that the school’s name was an accurate one—it really was a land full of joy.
I grew to appreciate the calm order and superb facilities at the school. There was a swimming pool and a gym for rehabilitation. I cried the first time they tried to get me to go into the swimming pool, though, because I thought it was like the river in our village at home, which was full of snakes and crocodiles lying in wait. Eventually the staff managed to explain to me that it was safe to get into the pool.
The gym was an empty hall furnished only with mats to lie down on and some walking rails. A physiotherapist who knew what kind of movements would benefit our limbs taught us what was called PE but was more like rehabilitation. She used to place me gently on my back, remove my callipers and try to stretch my legs. The more able children threw a ball at each other. However severe a child’s disability, the teachers and physiotherapists made sure everyone was included in these sessions.
We were placed in different dormitories according to our ages. There were four boys’ dormitories on one side of the site and four girls’ dormitories on the other side. The lights were switched off at 8 p.m. sharp and until that time we sang our hearts out.
Mama Salome often taught us new songs—hymns and traditional African songs—and encouraged us to compose our own music. As we sang she said, ‘If God is looking down from heaven right now, He will be so pleased with all of you.’
As part of the drive to make us self-sufficient we were taught how to wash our own clothes. Often we didn’t do a good job and the house mothers had to rewash them for us, but at least we tried. We were also taught how to fold our clothes and make our beds, and doing both quickly became a habit.
At home we all used tree bark to clean our teeth, but at school I was given two alien things instead—a toothbrush and toothpaste. At first I hated the feel of the brush and the minty taste of the toothpaste, but I soon got used to it and found I preferred it to tree bark.
Lessons were 35 minutes