On Janaka.

Today I’d like to introduce you to Janaka. He’s about 3 years old and the majority of our funny work stories involve this little fellow—I think Steph’s summary of his personality says it best, “when I look at his face I can’t help but laugh”.

A few of our best stories:

There was the time when, on our walk to the grounds, Janaka managed to get himself into trouble on three separate occasions before we had even crossed the street. First, he pinched a nice, unassuming young lady in the behind while we were walking past her. I think she was a bit confused when she turned around and found herself looking down into this little face:

After that escapade, and the effusive apologizes that followed, I naively assumed all would be well and we were on our way again. Things were going swimmingly until I heard an angry yell from down the street. I looked around and spotted one of the vendors shaking his finger toward Janaka, who had taken it upon himself to steal a pair of underwear from one of the booths. All of us made the trek back to the vendor and handed over his unmentionables. Unfortunately, we didn’t make it far before Janaka found a rope that looked perfect for climbing; the fact that it was already in use to protect a freshly painted fence from getting smudged didn’t hinder him in the least. Despite all of these adventures, we somehow always manage to make it to the grounds in one piece—the fact that it takes us approximately six million hours to do so doesn’t really matter. It’s all about the journey, right?

When we’re at the grounds the kids usually do things like watch the elephants, draw in the dirt, climb poles, or run around. Janaka decided to mix it up the other day and started chucking wood at the church doors. When we asked him what in the world he was doing, his sincere response was, “teacher, there’s a devil in there”.

St. Pauls - apparently home of the "yacka"

He even told his brother about it...who then spread the news.

Chiko, Sanu and Janaka

The amount of times I’ve had to disciple Janaka are too many to count. It’s come to the point where he now comes up voluntarily, pats my arm, says sorry, and runs off—even when he hasn’t been misbehaving. We can’t help it, despite all his shenanigans, he has our hearts.

Much love,

Alisa and Steph