I awake, already hot and sticky, to the sound of small feet rushing along the concrete corridor outside my door. The other volunteer, an English girl named Polly, is already awake and slowly disentangling herself from the mosquito net surrounding her bed.
It’s only my third day in the orphanage, but I’m already used to the routine. We awake after the children, rush to the balcony to watch the elephants slowly passing on their way to the jungle for grazing, help with schoolwork or games then biscuits and sweet tea for breakfast, always eaten sitting on the floor of the small kitchen located across the muddy courtyard we share with several other families who live in the building. Continue reading