I am in the middle of a project that I plan on sending to churches and donors around March time. I want to send a video home to show you what it is I see every day. I can’t explain how difficult it is for me to try and explain the complexity of what we do here in West Africa . When you are on the ship, it can be hard to remember that you are in Africa . But as soon as you set foot on African soil, it becomes very clear that you are in one of the poorest nations of the world. The poverty is unreal and constantly everywhere. It’s an unwavering battle as all of your senses are under attack. It’s not just garbage; it is not just sewage or body odor. It’s the smell, sight, texture, sounds, and taste [yes you can taste it in the air you breathe] of true poverty and that is something that is hard to explain if you have never experienced it before.
Also, you have never been as famous as you are when you come to Africa . Driving down the road everyone stops what they are doing to fervently waive saying either, “White man! White man!” or “Mercy Ship! Mercy Ship!” Children flock to you [although a few are extremely afraid of your white skin and promptly screams and runs the other way], mothers give you their babies to hold and the men constantly want to shake your hand. A total onslaught of locals: battling for their moment to greet you into their country. The children are more precious than words. They just want to touch you: anything to hold your hand or hold onto your shirt. They crave a human connection so badly they will fight each other to gain a precious spot. How can you capture the heartbreaking sight of a child fighting over a piece of your shirt to hold knowing that this will be the closest thing to affection they will receive? It’s easy to ask, “Who am I that they would fight over?” I have to constantly remind myself that it is not me they are really seeking out. They are just longing for help, love, affection and my eagerness to give them each some attention makes them anxious to get even closer.
I still remember when we first arrived in Yam’s Farm Wharf . I was in a vehicle that arrived a few minutes earlier than the rest. It happened as we were slowly making our way down the steep path. All of the school children were playing outside at recess. It took them a second to realize who we were. It was as if all at once they all recognized us and the response was tremendous and made me cry. There was an eruption of screams of joy. I’m not talking about the cheering “ya!” that is normal in the USA . I’m talking about happiest moment in our life, our hope just arrived and I can’t contain my extreme overwhelming joy. That day, 270 children started screaming at once and instantly rushed our vehicle. I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many children move as one big mob with desperation on their face that was filled with innocence and innocence lost. They surrounded out Land Rover and started opening our doors, pulling all 9 of us out of the vehicle. Nine adults versus 270 desperate children: to say it is overwhelming is an understatement. They pushed and hit each other, trying to be careful not to affect me but make way so they could place a hand on me. If I had a video camera in that moment, I could have captured it for you. Now my task is to try and recapture that moment, the need for love, and the desperation that fills their eyes as they stair at you with hope. I hope I can succeed because it will change your life like it has changed mine. I couldn’t be more thankful for the change.
Keep showing all the love and compassion that you have for them lil sis... I send my love and compassion for them through you... I love you and pray for you, The elder sister, Kitty.
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