I recall one event that happened around this time. Crystal, the girl who I had been hanging out with, one day suddenly disappeared from the orphanage. At first, I did not really think about it, but over time a question came to my mind, “What happened to her, where did she go, who took her away?” The adults around me did not bother to explain to me the situation. It felt kind of bazaar. For a while, I kept looking for her, but over time I began to forget her. New kids came and went. All the faces blurred together.

There are memories that occasionally came up in my mind. Sometimes I am not sure whether they are real or not. However, I am sure these events did happen in the orphanage. At first, I was by myself playing with the Velcro kitchen toys pretending to cut up the carrots. If a child from the outside saw this, he or she would probably think this is crude. My group came over to me and asked if I wanted to play with them. At first, I was kind of hesitant, but in the end, I agreed to hang out with them. Oddly enough, the group decided to play-house, even though we did not have the concept of family.  

We all designated Peter as the father, however, Melissa did not like the role she was given of Mother.

“I do not want to be that”, said Melissa.

“Well, somebody has to be the mother, but I want to be the daughter.” I said.

So, for a few minutes we went back and forth, arguing about who should be the mother, while Peter sat there looking at us with a blank expression. He was probably thinking, “what is going on with these silly girls?” Melissa gave me the pouting eyes, so in the end I reluctantly became the mother. Looking back on it now, as an older version of myself, it seems childish, but then again, I was a child. Even though there were some fun times, there were also unpleasant events that occurred.

            One day at dinner time, we sat down at the table, they brought the food. I was super hungry until I looked down and saw the food. I lost my appetite because it seemed like it was the same meal as lunch time. It was rice, mysterious meat, and some green stuff, probably a vegetable, but I really do not know. Unlike what people normally expect of a Chinese orphanage, the utensils that I used were not chopsticks. Some people assume that all Asians know how to use them, but the kids did not. We had the typical plastic spork. Sighing, I pick up the spork and slowly began scooping up the food. It was all I had and if I did not eat, I knew that I would be hungry in the middle of the night. I was a slow eater, but this day I was even slower because I did not like the meal.

As I was eating, I watched people leave the table one by one, and soon it was only me left. It was probably quite late. I was given a couple warnings to hurry up. However, it still took me a while to even finish half of the food. The adults probably got tired of waiting for me. As a punishment for not finishing the food in a timely manner, they put me in the bathroom to finish my dinner. At first, I just looked around the bathroom, not eating my food. Then I began to cry, which made it harder for me to swallow the food that was in my mouth. In my mind, I could not understand why they put me into the bathroom. While I was in the bathroom, I could hear people laughing and having fun. I felt rather annoyed that I could not be out there and could not understand why I had to finish in the bathroom. Somehow the lights got turned off and I stopped eating because I was afraid. This is just a small piece of what occurred in my daily life.

You know, usually my life was in the normal routine, but then one day I met someone who looked different from me. He had short yellowish blonde hair and his eyes were of a different shape than mine. His eyes were greyish blue, which stood out to me. His arms, legs and hands were long. They hung so low I was waiting for them to come off. He wore short sleeve shirts, which I had never seen before. There was also a lady and a child that stood next to him. Later, I learned that it was his wife and child. Apparently, they were Dutch missionaries. His wife was Asian and had blondish brown hair and her teeth were yellowish and protruding out of her mouth. She wore a dress that had different colors on it. The designer approach was to splash colors on it without planning, it was butt ugly. When I looked down at her feet, I noticed the dirt and grime, it was gross. The young boy looked mixed between the parents. He had light blonde hair with his father’s color of eyes, and I thought he was cute. In my mind I could not understand why he did not look like the mother. This was my first time meeting a mixed-race individual. When the man opened his mouth to speak, the sound was not right to me. I had no concept of accents. He spoke Dutch and my language. His name I cannot recall, but for some reason, Robi comes to mind when I think about him. His wife was named Pricilla and the son’s name was Esa.

The three foreigners spent a lot of time with us orphans. Their son would hang out with me and my group. When the boy tries to communicate with us. Every words he spoke would tickle my ears. I would laugh sometimes.  I secretly mumble them in the dark when I was supposed to be asleep. To my ignorance I didn’t know what the definition and meaning of the words were. I speculate I use the words wrongly among my friends. Thinking of it now in my heart wish I could recall the words. Perhaps it was best for me not to remember them for it could have been bad words.