Growing up Nkoaranga

It's been a long few months. I have some ongoing medical issues that are being frustratingly evasive, and it's not clear whether I'm going to be able to start LSE this year or not. Which would mean that I'd be another year out, and the kids another year older, by the time I could conceivably return full time to Nkoaranga orphanage and to Tanzania. I get scared thinking how big my babies will be by the time I return - and it breaks my heart into tiny pieces not to be there to see it.

Stevie's big mouthed grin

Dainess's expectant, "Don't you want
to play with me?" face

Little grandfather Simoni's appraising look 

Dainess's melodramatic,
the-world-is-ending face

I try to remember, that getting older means getting stronger - Ebenezer is a strong, healthy baby, not a vulnerable preemie. Zawadi, who at a year couldn't even crawl, is walking and talking in full sentences. Simoni is running and jumping, when a year ago, because of his rickets, he could only scoot across the floor.

Simoni's cheeky grin

And then I see these. Pictures of our "big kids" now, back when they were little - and their personalities shine right through every pore. The same kids, with the same hearts, the same strengths, and the same weaknesses. And I know that even as they get bigger, they'll
still be my babies, always.

Tumaini (left) and Dainess (right),
giggling their faces off. 

I miss the babies they were. But I could not be prouder of the kids they are becoming.

Help us continue Stevie and Dainess's journey by contributing to get them into school this January.

Yes, I'm up at 4 am making videos of the kids.

Just a little something I thought you guys might enjoy - I was looking through the photo albums of some volunteers who have gone back to the orphanage several times over the years, and found some gorgeous baby photos of the kids. I thought you might like to see how beautifully they have grown!

Updates soon with our new project, the school situation, a reorganized site, more details on the board, and much more!

Out of time

I'm leaving Nkoaranga today and I'm using my last seven minutes online in Africa to write this. I'm only here in the internet cafe because I've just put the finishing touches to the Volunteer Guide we're putting up on the notice board - last minute of course. Tonight, after I've finished packing up the hospital house (the White House) I have to go and say goodbye, which will be completely horrible. I really admired Emily for how well she did it last night, I just wish it wasn't my turn! We had a lovely afternoon with them yesterday though and hopefully I'll be able to say goodbye well. They ask after a whole list of volunteers every couple of days: wapi Bosk (Ross)? Wapi Andry? Wapi Bethan? Wapi Emma? Wapi Jasmine? Wapi Bekka? It kills me that I have to be the next person who leaves them, and that when I'm gone they won't have anyone to ask - guess we'll just have to make sure we go back!

The count down

It is now my final week and I can't believe how quickly it has gone.

Over the past few weeks, when the children have asked me how long I have left, I've been able to respond with 'four weeks', 'three weeks,' 'two weeks', and now it has gotten to the point of 'this week'. I know I will be back, but the thought of leaving them is crushing.

We went to USA river academy open day last week and were able to see the children's work and how well they are doing. We are so proud of them all. It was a really lovely day, but was also over-shadowed by the thought that we would have to say goodbye to them all. Seeing Aroni for the last time was heart-breaking and saying goodbye to him was one of the hardest things I have ever had to do; when we said goodbye, he turned to me and said, 'I want to come and live with you'- you really do connect with the children and become incredibly close. He's such a beautiful boy and I know he is going to do great things in this world.

Working at Nkoaranage Orphanage has been an incredible experience. I am so grateful that I was given the chance to get to know all of the children individually and watch them grow. I can go home knowing that I was lucky enough to see Ester and Neemas first steps, Gracy sitting up for the first time and Zawadi successfully overcoming rickets and managing to walk. I can also go home knowing that I was given the honour of cleaning Pray up on the common occasion of him pooing in his pants- you're not a true Nkoaranga volunteer until you have had the joy of mopping Pray up whilst he mess's about with the water taps and screams his head off with glee.

One of the best moments at the Orphanage is the point at which the children first learn your name and scream it down the corridor to you. You especially know you are making an impact when the toddlers start tottering towards you with a massive grin on their face, food all down their fronts, screaming your name at the top of their voice- the fact that at the age of 2 they are able to remember you is really special.

I know I will come back to visit as soon as possible, but in the mean time I'm going to work with 'The Small Things' as much as I can to help aid the orphanage in the best way possible. I'm so terrified about saying goodbye to the children but I'm so glad that I can go home knowing that I will still be involved in their lives and that the children are being looked after by such wonderful women, who truly love them.

You really do fall completely and totally in love with every single child; there isn't a single volunteer who hasn't.

Each child is unique and every single one of them is going to grow up to be a wonderful individual- they are going to do some seriously amazing things. They are going to be the legendary.

Donations!

We are now officially set up with a separate bank account for "The Small Things" and the capacity to take numerous types of donations, including monthly contributions! Woo hoo!

Baracka says, I'm off to make a donation right now!

Honestly, I've been struggling pretty hard with being away - the kids keep invading my dreams! - and working in whatever limited way I can to help them and make their lives happier and healthier is the only thing getting me through. That and knowing that so many people here have taken the babies into their hearts as well - and I promise you, your heart might hurt a little from the amount it has to stretch to hold all that love, but it's worth it in the end.

Make the most of it while I'm here

I'm still in Nkoaranga and writing this from a nearby internet cafe. Scarily Emily, Ross and I (Megan) are running out of time. I only have 19 days left before I'm off back to England, which is hard to really imagine. The children here do become so much part of your life when you see them every day. We'll be going in to help put them to bed tonight and I'm planning to be back at 6am to help with the bathing, changing, dressing and feeding. It's frantic, but it's my favourite shift - when you've finished you feel like you've really done something useful (this is occasionally confirmed by the mamas offering you chai for 'kazi njema,' (good work) then you really know you did well!)


The last few days I have loved watching Zawadi walk properly, standing straighter than I've ever seen her before and marvelling at how big they've got in our 3 weeks we've just been away travelling. I got a disapproving correction from Faraja on Saturday when I thought little Maureen was Gracie from the back, because Maureeni couldn't possibly be that big!

This picture is one of my favourite ones of Andrea out the front of the orphanage because he just looks so happy. That was a brilliant afternoon for photos.
It's amazing how much you learn from being here, how much the children here can teach you. It's wonderful to be in a place where you know you can make a real contribution to their lives, but they are also well-cared for and happy. Every time they see you arriving they all throw themselves on you and make it perfectly clear that they are glad you came, even if you've only been gone 2 hours. I'm looking forward to spending my last weeks here with them, but already dreading having to leave.

The best 6 months of my life

Hey Everyone! My name's Emily and I am currently working at Nkoaranga Orphanage and have been since January of this year. Words cannot describe what an incredible experience this has all been. Meeting the kids and watching them grow has been an absolute privilege.

I recently went travelling for 3 weeks and missed the kids an unbelievable amount; when I returned little Zawadi was walking all on her own! We were all so proud of her. She really has worked hard to fight the rickets and is doing an amazing job- she was even dancing the other day. I couldn't believe how much they had all grown; we were so happy that little Ebenezer has started to gain weight again and increase in size.

All of the children are beautiful and unique in their own way; before I came here I had never looked after children and the idea of it was quite daunting, but now I could change a nappy with my eyes closed- which does occasionally happen when we are graced with yet another power cut.

Getting to know all of the children is a real treat, over the past 5 months we have become so close to all of them; I could easily walk into the playroom and tell you which pair of shoes Stevie likes to wear the most and which Bob the Builder DVD is David's favourite. The work that everyone is doing to help the children is incredible and really beneficial. Working with the Mama's has been a pleasure and it's wonderful to know that the children are being cared for by women who really do love them.

We have less than 3 weeks left in Africa and the idea of leaving the children is absolutely killing me but it is so reassuring to know that we are leaving the children in the care of such wonderful and competent women.

As soon as I can I will be returning to Nkoaranga and to the most beautiful children I have ever met. They are all so clever, funny, happy and loving- such beautiful individuals. All buzzing with life- I never knew such big personalities could come out of such small people...or so much slobber. They are all perfect and I know they are going to grow into incredible individuals.

Mzungu - Turn, turn, turn

The word Mzungu, used in modern Swahili to refer to anyone of European and/or non-African descent, is quite possibly the word a volunteer or tourist can expect to hear most - next to pole (sorry) and asante (thank you) - shouted by small children who want to hold your hands and touch your hair, by women selling items in the market trying to get your attention, by (ok, at least for the females among us) overexcited young men who somehow think that yelling your race in your direction is going to make you irresistibly attracted to them. However, unlike most similar terms in the US, Mzungu is not a derogatory term in and of itself - it is categorical, used almost as a pronoun. (Don't get me wrong, it can be irritating to be called Mzungu by people who really, really should have learned your name by now.)

The origins of the word are a little murky, but it appears to come from the Swahili verb "kizungu," meaning to spin. One explanation for this is that the word originated during early trade with Arabs and others, as the mzungus "spun" around the world. This would explain why an African American, Jordanian, or Asian might as easily be considered a mzungu as a white girl from Connecticut - that the term originated from lifestyle, not race specifically.

Ninazungu nyingine kilu siku - I spin more every day. Today I booked my one-way ticket to London on September 13th, to start LSE the following week. I also booked my ticket over December break to go back to Tanzania, December 11th to January 7th. I am excited and nervous (not to mention broke) - to start studying International Development seriously, with faculty and students who will challenge me and make me better at this work that I've wanted to do for so long. To be away from my babies for these long months, but to now have that light back at the end of the tunnel... I'm scared and excited to see how big they will be, if they will remember me at all, who they will have become. I want them to thrive, and also I want them to stay exactly the same until I return. I want Z to progress in leaps and bounds, and also to stay the same precious, sweet, tiny baby I remember.

Don't ever change. Except, please grow and change and keep becoming the incredible people you are going to be. What, I just want to disrupt the flow of space-time a little - and while we're at it, can I get a teleport up in here?

Interpret THIS

The last week or so has been really rough, because the kids keep up popping up in my dreams EVERY. NIGHT. Sometimes in weird places, too - in last night's dream I was joining a gym in my hometown and Pray was wreaking havoc in the changing room, which is accurate behaviorally if not geographically.

Pray in his natural state - filthy! And never happier. 

The night before Z kept wandering through different rooms and I was trying to chase her down, and then I was told she'd been moved to another orphanage and I couldn't find her, which was heartbreaking. The night before THAT I was chasing chickens around in my sleep while the kids played all around. Crazy! Still, it's really rough spending your days trying to work hard enough to forget how much you miss them, then to have the little scraps sneak attack you in your dreams. Although, again, I suppose that's fairly accurate too - they sneak into your heart and don't let go. And at least this way I get to see their faces, even if I'm not actually awake for it!

The truth

I have been procrastinating terribly about writing here - and there is a LOT to say - but the truth is that I'm struggling pretty badly with being away from the kids, especially Z and Simoni. I think I was doing a lot better the first week, and it has started to really sink in how long it is going to be before I see them again - and how big they will get, without me. I've been working at the doctor's office, and every time I see a kid Z's size, my heart starts crumbling and I have to not start crying in the middle of work. I have no idea how I'm going to go to school like this.

I'm trying. One day at a time for now. Lots more stories and info on what's coming next, the nonprofit, and everything else, coming soon.

Poking the bruises

I am trying very hard to enjoy being here - in England, with my wonderful family, in my life - and to relax enough to write more about the last few weeks with the kids and about what comes next. And I will get there. But tonight my heart just hurts. It's very hard feeling like you are speaking another language than everyone around you - that they don't and can't see the world the way you will never be able to un-see it, from the bottom up. I've told a few family members that I want to go back to adopt Z, and they indulge what they see as my naivete, as a kindness. I was told today, repeatedly, with forgiving smiles, that biological children are just DIFFERENT from adopted children, I'll understand one day, of course I'll want to have children of my OWN. What woman wouldn't? And, as I was told before, why adopt Z when if I get married, later, my husband could never really love her the way a father would?

Ouch. I feel bruised on every layer, all over, all the way down. And every photograph feels like poking that bruise, and yet I can't stop. The photos are the only thing reminding me I'm not crazy, that I love and am loved, that there is a world beyond the tidy hedgerows.

Two more years of this?

I miss you every day, little girl

Happy Birthday Watoto

I am writing from a bunk in a strange but very well designed "yotel" in Amsterdam's Schipol Airport - the last two weeks have been too busy and intense to sleep or think, much less post or email, so my apologies to anyone that tried to get in touch - including my lovely and very patient UK family. I am currently experiencing severe cultural whiplash - 8 hours is not nearly enough to travel the billion cultural miles between TZ and an Amsterdam airport - and, obviously, missing the kids. The pain hasn't fully hit me yet - I cried like a baby when I had to say goodbye to them, but now it just feels like a day that I'm not working and I'll be back in a few days, my subconscious - ok, not entirely subconscious - denial mechanisms are working pretty well. Not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing.

Since I am in no way close to ready to talk about leaving, let's talk about last Wednesday's birthday party for the kids - since none of them have ever had a birthday party before, we decided to have a big group one for them all. In an ideal world, we could have one for each kid on their birthday, but they don't totally understand the concept and get sad when it's someone else's birthday and they are told theirs isn't for another X number of months. So this was our solution! Also it ended up being a nice way to help our newest little one, Miriam, to settle in - she transferred in from another orphanage that ends care at two years, and the poor scrap had only ever really been cared for by white people so she was terrified of the mamas for the first few days. As you can see, she has since adjusted nicely, and is a beautiful and happy kid.

Miriam with stickers, bracelet, and biscuits

Simoni sang "Happy Birthday" to himself for days after the party - probably still is singing it right now. To be fair, he sings to himself all the time, so this isn't necessarily related. 

All the volunteers with a fraction of the kids, everyone on a sugar high

Z with lollipop lipstick

Lots more to tell, here are a few preview pictures:

Little Ebenezer before hospital admission - Pneumonia and Malaria, poor little scrap.

From left: Zawadi's grandmother, sister Pendo, Zawadi, Mama Pendo, and Zawadi's great uncle in front of the hut Pendo and grandmother were sharing

Zawadi and big sister Pendo back at Nkoaranga - she's here to stay!

Last day, new chicks

Spiderbaby, spiderbaby, does whatever a spiderbaby does...

From a wiggle-worm to a spiderbaby in five short months

Also - darn kids got bubble gum all over their hair, ears, and forehead, and peanut butter failed to alleviate the problem. I don't know whether it's the Tanzanian bubble gum or the natural peanut butter, but Stevie and Ericki will be walking around with pink heads and ears for a few more days. I'd be lying if I said I don't think it's hysterical, but Stevie is not. happy.

Remorseful and pissed

Not even a little bit sorry. Kind of likes the peanut butter process.

 Other than that, things are pretty calm, albeit in a things-are-always-insane-so-slightly-less-insane-seems-downright-peaceful kind of way. I'm taking a mental health break and going on a super low budget trip back to Zanzibar for a week, which is leaving me deeply conflicted - I really want to spend all of my last five weeks with the kids, but I also recognize that being there every day and then leaving suddenly is probably the most traumatic possible method. I'm hoping that the week away will give the kids a chance to disconnect a tiny bit, and, I might as well be honest, reassure me that yes, they will survive without me. I'm pathetic. But I'm going to miss them so stinking much.

How could you not?

Struggling, self-indulgent, and sick.

So my malaria is ebbing, thankfully, and I'm moderately functional again. Lately things have been really rough - for various reasons. I'm thrilled to have gotten into LSE, and I am theoretically excited to go. I miss my family desperately, and am really looking forward to seeing them in five weeks. But every moment that I move closer to these things that I've worked for, I move farther away from my actual, on the ground work here. I have to sacrifice my day to day work, my connections with these kids, in the hope that this training will make me more capable in the long term. That makes sense, it's reasonable, but reasonable has absolutely nothing to do with how I feel right now. I am being shredded every day, when I walk on to the lawn and get tackled by a flock of kids screaming my name, when Zawadi cries and I'm the only one who can comfort her, when she giggles and says my name, when they tell me she calls for me when I'm not there. I. am. shredded.

We've been having managerial struggles - first getting the hospital to agree to weekly preventative care visits, which they did grudgingly and I strongly suspect they will stop after I leave. Some of the mamas... we've taking big steps with hygiene and nutrition, and then I will walk in in the evening and find eight kids eating from the same spoon, again, and kids begging for water and not getting it, an eight month old falling and hitting his head on concrete and being left to cry for fifteen minutes until the woman working can be bothered to get up and see why he's upset.

These problems are fixable, with money - with a few thousand dollars a year to hire a staff manager and another one or two thousand to hire more everyday staff, especially on the night shift. But I don't have it, and the idea of spending tens of thousands of dollars on graduate school, and living in London, and, I don't know, my life the way it was? just makes me nauseous. If I were staying in the US, at least I know I could register as a nonprofit and transform my metalwork business into a vehicle to fundraise for the orphanage, as I was planning to. Getting accepted when I wasn't expecting to has thrown a slight wrench in these plans. And now I sound like a whiny idiot, because of course it's a huge honor and why the hell did I apply if I didn't want to get in? But look.

This is the first time she had ever been inside a residential house. In her life. I don't want it to be the last.

 

Even if I spent my two years at LSE, happened to meet the love of my life, moved back to Tanzania and lived here for three years, got married and adopted her, Z would be school aged by the time she was finally mine, even in the EXTREMELY unlikely scenario laid out above. It's not about changing my work - it's about feeling like I'm sacrificing these kids' futures in exchange for the possibility that I could help some other kids more down the line. And rationality be damned, I'm not sure I can do that, and I'm not sure I have any other choice.

Digest in peace, Yosemite Sam

Silly me, taunting the obviously vengeful Tanzanian illness gods (who I've taken to picturing as a cabal of supersized, evil  mosquitos, rubbing their front legs together ala Mr. Burns from the Simpsons) with talk of a functioning immune system. At least I'm out of bed for the first time in several days, and I EVEN made it down the hill all the way to the nearest town! When people said I'd start to appreciate the simple things from living in Africa, didn't know QUITE how right they were. Three cheers for occasional wins in daily battles with parasites!

I did, however, have an eventful few days while enclosed in my house alone. I have a friend moving in to the house tomorrow, so I had given her the spare main key and the only copy of the padlock key, thinking that surely I had the mental capacity to remember not to padlock the door that particular night. Except it turns out I have the memory capacity of a goldfish, and I promptly locked myself in. Given that every window in the house is thoroughly barred with steel girders JUST wide enough to let Paka in and out (did I mention I acquired a cat?), the malaria hadn't left me QUITE emaciated enough to make it through. Even more impressively, Jeremiah, the hospital secretary, came by with the treasurer to look over the repairs made to the house  - and I had to explain through a window why I would truly love to let them in, but was a touch indisposed. It's a wonder that they leave children in my care. 

Stupid cat, taunting me with her lithe figure and ability to leave at will.

On to news. First and foremost, thank you Patty for asking, YES Macs and PCs are equally in demand here - frankly, even the clunker you bought ten years ago and has been collecting dust ever since is going to be a massive technological leap over here. Did I mention they have four computers? In the whole hospital? Yeah. Please let us pass on your junk to a hospital that can really use it.

Additionally, I may have mentioned in the past how Tweety's coming out as a rooster put a slight crimp in the plans to house him with Yosemite Sam, the large red guy who had been ruling the roost (tee hee). Well, the day finally came - Tweety has begun to do his roosterly duties, and he and Sam were drawing blood on a daily basis - it was time to make a move. Although first let me detour briefly to have you imagine sitting with a group of three to six year olds as they witness a rooster chase down a particularly recalcitrant hen, and trying to explain - in broken Swahili, no less - that they're not fighting, he just wants to kiss her. Er. Not the kind situation you can tell them to ask their moms about! At any rate, it was time for Sam to go. While I made it clear to the mamas that I didn't wish to be present for the actual dispatching, I neglected to clarify that I didn't think it was a particularly wonderful idea to do it in the middle of the kid's playground, within full view of all the windows, while the kids piled up to peer out at the proceedings. Or, you know, that it might be a good idea to NOT LEAVE THE HEAD IN THE MIDDLE OF THE PLAYGROUND when you took the body inside to pluck and prepare. At any rate, lesson learned, more specific instruction is clearly necessary here. Sigh. However, I'm told he was quite delicious, and certainly provided much needed protein to my babies. So there's that. Also I'm informed it's a tad unconventional to name each chicken, and perhaps that might soften to blow next time. But I've already got my names plotted out for the upcoming chicks, so forget that. 

Your sacrifice was not in vain, Sam. I salute you.

Speaking of the kids, we have a new baby - two weeks old - named Joyce, and she is truly gorgeous, although pretty sick right now with a fever and an eye infection, keep your fingers crossed for her.Apparently  her mother is alive but mentally incapable of caring for her - not uncommon, it is also the case with at least one other child in the orphanage now, but still very sad, especially as mental health services and medication are so sorely lacking. I'm sure with better access to care many women in this situation would not be faced with the agonizing choice of giving up their child - or having them taken from them. As it is, we'll do the best we can for the little scrap - and she is a sweetheart. 

Bitty baby

As for the older kids, they've been a whirlwind of activity lately - Z and the others are experimenting with different careers, clearly under my influence (cough cough). Neema is done being sick and is back to being a big squishy ball of giggles, which is pure pleasure.

Budding artists?

A doctor like her semi-adopted grandfather?

Erm, facial contortionist?

Some things have been rough, though. Both Peter and two volunteers who have been here for the last three months, Trine and Annette, have departed in the last week, necessitating some difficult conversations with the kids, especially the older ones. "Bekka, are you going on an airplane too? Are you coming back? Is everyone leaving? When are you leaving?" I've tried to be honest and reassuring at the same time, but it's really difficult to look into their eyes and tell them that yes, in a few months you'll be hopping on an airplane too, without them. Shred your heart into teeny tiny pieces difficult, and for now I'm just talking about it. Blurgh.

In the meantime, I'm focusing on getting rid of the darn parasite, helping Bethan move in, and giving the kids as many cuddles as possible - AND, most importantly of all, trying to improve the infrastructure, both of the orphanage and the hospital, in a way that will be sustainable even after I leave. That means vitamins (my father has been able to track down a supplier who will give us a year's worth for approximately $150), continuing work on the garden, getting those laptops, and working to fill out those lists of medical supplies. If you'd like to contribute but aren't medically inclined yourself, please consider a financial donation - we're buying direct from suppliers whenever possible to get the most mileage out of the little funds that are available.

Thank you thank you, as always, for reading and for caring about me and the kids.

In pieces

So the pipes are being installed AS WE SPEAK for the pump, although we're still a little short on the final total, and within the next two weeks, we should have water for my babies! Woot! Seriously, it's shocking how much you appreciate that transparent wet stuff when it's not there. And, as soon as the water is in, I will be moving to a house directly between the orphanage and the hospital, which will be really nice since I'm constitutionally incapable of going more than 24 hours without missing those kids so much it's obscene. The move is earlier than expected due to a miscommunication with ELI, which caused kind of insane stress for a few days but is now resolved and not really worth talking about - just trusts me that this was a really, really long week. The house itself is HUGE, and it's going to be really strange and a little creepy to live in it by myself - several male Tanzanian acquaintances have already offered to come live with me, which will NOT be necessary thank you.

I have good news and hard news about Zawadi and Simoni - First of all, Zawadi finally has her first tooth, which means she is being a royal pain the butt but is still an exciting developmental milestone. Secondly, we got their x rays done, and it turns out that neither of them has hip dysplasia, which is kind of shocking, given that Simoni didn't walk until two and a half and Zawadi is just starting now at sixteen months. However, their delays and leg weakness are probably due to nutritional deficiencies (which is why I'm pushing the mamas to GIVE THEM THE DAMN VITAMINS even when we're not here to remind them), not just as kids but likely in the womb as well. This was further explained by Mama Pendo, who told us that Simoni's mother was a drug addict who abandoned him, and for all we know may still be alive, and probably didn't know the father herself - and Zawadi's mother was likely killed by her father. And then I picked them both up and buried my face in between them and cried, confusing them both and probably not really helping much of anything. But wow. I guess, even given the fact that the kids are in an orphanage and you know their background is rough, you STILL idealize it, with some loving family that wishes they could keep the kids but just can't and... sometimes it's not like that.

Yeah, I have no idea how I'm going to leave, either.

On an upbeat note, I finally received a letter sent several months ago by my darling friend Meghan, for my birthday, and it reminded me of something else I didn't appreciate at the time but now miss. For my birthday and approximately a month afterwards, EVERY DAY I got wished a happy birthday by at least five kids. The video below was taken two to three weeks after the day itself.

It's adorable but it did eventually get on my nerves and now... it's stopped and I miss it. Because I'm pathetic. Which is the moral of this post, I suppose - I am only halfway through and I can already see that there are going to be some serious, serious problems when it's time for me to go. Like maybe-it-makes-sense-to-marry-a-random-Tanzanian-and-adopt-them-all moments of insanity. My parents might have to drug me to get me on the plane. We shall see! At least it would make a good blog post.