La Pouponniere
Soeur Angel, a petite Senegalaise woman in a crisp nurse’s gown worthy of a children’s book set in London, led us to a sundrenched room at the far end of the nursery. She smiled broadly under her lunettes, gently and firmly motioning us to enter. After a moment, my eyes began to focus on the scene- babies, babies- everywhere. Watch your step. They were all under foot, like the profusion of frogs that appear here after a rain. Some napped, some drooled, some rolled, some noticed each other, some didn’t. Fourty some babies were being watched by four young women, who tended to the playgroup like pancakes on an enourmous griddle. This one needs flipping over, this one you can leave for a while, this one needs to be taken off, this one is getting dry on the edges. Always in repose, yet always doing the right thing at the right time, the women’s soft gaze never left their work. Like an amateur, I jumped in and fumbled with one baby who managed to catch my eye. What did she need? What did she recognize? What would she grow up to be? When was it time to leave her and “try” another one?
I learned that this “nursery” is for babies 0-9 months, whose mothers can’t keep them at that time, because they are too sick, too overwhelmed with work already, or have died in childbirth. After nine months, or before, the babies return to their families. Each month, the families visit with their babies and provide the orphanage with one month’s worth of food. The place seems clean and well organized, the babies healthy and content. Send crib bumpers or other interesting toys to hang from cribs, and small summer clothes if you wish to contribute.