World Aids Orphans Day

I bet there are some of you who read my blog that have room in your home and heart for a child orphaned by AIDS.

Some people ask, "why does God allow all these kids to lose their parents?"

Maybe we should ask instead, "why do I allow a child to live without parents?"

Let me know if you feel that tug and I'll help you any way I can.

Another way to help is to sponsor one of Hanna's girls from Children's Heaven - these girls lost moms and dads, mostly to aids, and Hanna is mom to them now, but she needs sponsors to help her parent these girls.

Thanks!!

Art Auction

In Denver next week there is an art auction to benefit one of my favorite charities, Children's Heaven. So, I've been putting together some things to auction off so I can get them mailed tomorrow. First was a picture book of Ethiopia, for children born there. The last page is blank so the high bidder can personalize it with the child's photo. I just finished this shadow box of a woman pulling thread. I lined it with a scarf like the one her family made from the thread she is working on. I also want to do some scrap book pages - just the elements, for people who have been there. One page will be round houses, one weaving, one cooking, that sort of thing, with some paper and accessories to go with the photos. I hope people like my items and the bid them up.

Christmas Shopping

This is my favorite place to Christmas shop so far this year:
http://www.ahopestore.org/

Some of the photos aren't up yet, but you can find them on the AHOPE for Children blog.

Sarah, Alden and I got the bracelets and I haven't taken mine off yet. It is a great reminder that children are living with hiv - a reminder to advocate, to pray, to give, and to think about my financial and lifestyle choices each day.

Plus, they have cool Amharic writing on the side.

Perspective

Because we've been discussing a depression hitting the States, I wanted to think about how another family might take this news in their country. I've been mulling over this shot I took of kids enjoying mangos in Haiti, thinking about them, their mom and dad, and how they might prepare when they hear a storm is coming.

And Haiti did just got drenched with yet another ferocious tropical storm. At least if we face grueling circumstances, our kids don't go into them dressed like this.


We have resources. We have education. We have compassion. We will weather the storm. Perhaps now is an important time to reach out rather than hold back. We can send a message to our collective psyche that we can continue to give, continue to help, even in the face of hard times.

Dumpster Girls

I'm not going to say too much about these girls, because I plan to make a video about them to try and raise money to get them out of the dump and into school. But, here is a condensed version I felt I should put up because every day is one day too long to live like they do. Please contact me if you want to help them, or contact Hanna at her website, www.childrensheaven.org.

These girls, and four others, saw a posted notice about Hanna's work helping orphan girls, so they came to her office to see if they could get help. Some are biological sisters, but all treat each other as family, sticking close together for protection and companionship. All completely support themselves. Some live in plastic houses - houses made of tarps hanging from sticks stuck into the mud, and a few live with extended family in meager surroundings.

Hanna has not yet had the resources to help them, and it haunts her. She asked me to go with them one day as they work so I could record and show others.

They picked me up at her office and we walked a long way to their neighborhood. During the walk, they asked me to stay behind them and pretend I didn't know them. This was for my safety, they explained, as the big boys that work in the dumpsters will take cameras from tourists who try and snap photos. I saw these boys - men, really - riding atop garbage trucks, leering at the girls and yelling to them as they walked past.

The girls told me they would take me to someplace safer than their normal dumpsters to show me their work.

First, we went to one girl's home, which she shares with two sisters. Inside, it is the size of a twin bed. They had lived in a plastic house, but were able to get this one for 50 birr, about $4.80, a month. They will have to move out at the end of the month, though, because the landlord just increased the rent to 60 birr. Looking around at the out-of-work men gathered in the street, I asked if she felt safe at night. She told me they use sticks to block the door and that it helps. None of the girls travel or stay alone.

She is 11 years old.

I asked her what her very favorite food was. Her eyes glowed and she smiled as she said softly, "potatoes."


We went to the dump and I taped them digging for metal (see photo above of nails and other dump discoverd metal), which they sell for half a birr per kilo. Usually, five of them working can find a kilo each day. They also gather pieces of plastic grocery bags to use as fuel to cook cabbage, their main meal.

At his "suggestion," I ended up paying one of the men there to "protect" me as we shot.


The girls didn't get enough metal to sell that day, so I bought them some potatoes, onions and a bag of coal from this lady in the photo, who agreed to hold things until the youngest came back from accompanying me home, which she did. This little girl had a horrible, nasty looking infection in her ear and could not hear, so I took her back to Hanna's and sent her to the doctor.

Hanna and I talked that night about how we could help them with their job - gloves, a tool to dig . . . but it was a depressing discussion as we don't want to help them dig in the garbage all day every day, we just want them OUT of that work.

Mimi, more

I wrote this long post and lost it, which was disappointing, so I will try again.

Mimi is the little girl's nickname, her real name is long and we can't say it as well as people here, but we are close enough that she knows when we say it that we are referring to her.

We spent more time at the orphanage yesterday and I got to know a few women working there, including Mimi's caretaker - who I really like, and a nurse and the woman who runs the sponsorship program for the special needs kids and the children with high aptitude who would benefit from extra schooling. She is a wonderfully caring person and encouraged me to try and find some sponsors for the children. Sponsorship is only about $250 a year. Please let me know if you want any information on how to do it - you get photos and updates and I have photos of the kids, too. You can visit if you come as well, they treat visitors wonderfully.

I'm frustrated at my inability to upload photos and hope it is fixed in Delhi. It makes blogging so much more fun to do when you have photos!

Here is a shot of Mimi meeting Mommy. Wonder if she thinks Mommy lives in the computer?

Mathari Valley Project

The photos came in, and we managed to get them up in time for our May push to raise money for the street kid dorms, outside the Mathari Valley slums in Nairobi. The first weekend, we raised $3500 toward the project, and this past weekend looked similar. I'm looking forward to seeing our friends from Kenya in a few weeks when they come to speak. These shots are of Debbie, my travel partner to Nairobi, and David, attaching the photos to the triangle pillars that volunteers built. David rigged a tv in one of the pillars that shows a video I shot about the project. Sarah grabbed this photo of me touching up paint on one of the pillars.


Debbie works on all the overseas outreach projects at church, and has terrific ideas of how to motivate people and raise money. For this project, she is "selling" these neat little cinderblocks in exchange for any $100 donation. And, she is organizing a church cookbook. David submitted a recipe for dinner when your wife is out of town. It involves bread, crushed peanut spread and jelly, a paper plate and cup of water.

Tornado update

Updating the link below, I just got this from Tracy, who lives downstairs from Rosemary and Obed.

I just talked to Rosmary... she was putting Zion to bed when half of the roof tore off (the part where he was laying down)... so she moved him to the covered part of the house and put clothes on him... she thought that was all that was going to happen.. But the second the other part of the roof started to lift up she grabbed her baby and ran down the stairs across the street to Victoria's house.... seconds after she got down safely the other part of the roofing came off hit the railing, fell on the stairs she went down, and then a number of cement clocks fell right where she had just walked... So glad they're safe!.
-Tracy

Here is a picture of the stairs where pieces of the roof and blocks fell.



If you would like to help Rosemary and Obed replace their lost household items, clothing and baby supplies, please click on this link. You may click "Give Now," and then, under "select one," designate your gift to "Colombia Worship" and it will go directly to Obed and Rosemary (and baby Zion). If you want to mail things to them, please email me at hmcine at yahoo dot com.

Click to Donate

Do you get emails with subject lines reading: Free Food, just click!

If so, I'd love it if you would take my quiz on the right. I'm really curious about these sites. If you click, WHY do you do it? Why do we take time to click on a site, and then play a game or answer a quiz, so someone else will donate 5 cents?

My gut tells me that a lot of people click.

I click.

But, I know from experience that not as many people make a committment to say, sponsor a child. Or two. Even when confronted with the child's meals for a week vs. one cup of Starbucks, people (like me) struggle to make the BIG commitment of $1 each and every day.

I'm guessing the sites make ad dollars on the number of hits, and the savvy ones that keep you there taking a quiz up their ad revenue because the people who visit stay on the site longer.

Is clicking one time throwing a nickel in the fountain outside the children's hospital, or is it something more?

If you are someone who gives time this way, by clicking or using a search engine that helps people, or by accessing Amazon through your favorite charity's website, how do you remember to keep going back and click? Do you commit to doing it over time, do you make it a habit? If not, why not? Why click at all if only one time?

I'm looking forward to discussing this, thanks for commenting!

Oh, and if you want to start clicking, here are some recent "click me" sites I've received:

Feed Rice
Help Sponsor a Child
Use This Search Engine (Google powered) to Help Charity
World Food Programe
Help a Farmer
Feed People in India

Kenya Update 2

Here is the most recent Kenya update from our missionary friends. Mike is Marigold's husband. You can hear an interview with her in an earlier post, and I hope to post another soon where she talks about being in a car that was attacked by thugs. Mikey is their son. They have two vehicles, I guess this was one of them. They bought the vehicles to help some of their local workers make extra money by doing tours.

May God Bless you for your prayers.
I just spoke to Mike and Mikey. Mike said that things were much worse than they had even imagined. They took food today, over 3000 lb. to a refuge camp in Lamuru were 7500 people are staying. One of our vehicles was attack by a mob. They shot out the windows and would have killed our driver but a young man that is being trained to drive was in the van and persuaded them to let them live. Their lives were spared. Today yet another minister of Parliament was killed. Tomorrow Mike and Mikey are heading to Gilgil near Navasha, where the latest burnings and riots have been. Please pray for their protection.

I am trying to speak to them everyday. I will keep you posted on their whereabouts and well being. Mike and Mikey was so thankful that they have funds to buy the foods, blankets, clothing and other needs. Because you gave and are praying!
YOU ARE THERE WITH THEM, THANK YOU.

I took this pic in Argentina, and was reminded of it when I read the story. The energy in a crowd about to bolt is heart stopping. I can't imagine being in one when the last few drops of water hit an already over-full glass.

If you wish to send money to help buy food and supplies,
please specify your desire and mail checks for Firewind Ministries to:
Mike and Marigold Cheshier
Office
Firewind Ministries
1629 North Washington Ave.
Springfield, Mo. 65803
417 831 4779

Dr. Ruth Droppers

I usually shower in the morning, but Ruth showers at night. After spending an hour with her at the hospital, I can see why. Personally, I struggle with just stepping into the hospital here because it feels like I’m diving face first into a rising wave of
germs. Yet, Soddo Christian Hospital is very clean compared to other local hospitals. The outside is beautiful, there are covered walks connecting the wards and flowers bloom everywhere. It seems that the clean air and the flowers promote rest and healing for the tired, sick and dirty patients. Twice a day the floors are scrubbed, yet, the people coming in are often filthy from travel on the dirt roads, hours or days of travel by foot or carried litter or donkey cart, continually drenched in the dusty wake of passing trucks. To me it seems everything has a film of dust and sickness that makes me want to bolt.

Additionally, it is difficult for me to handle the onslaught of emotions that pound me when I see the people suffering. Sitting in the ER at home, more often the length of the wait grabs my emotions harder than people’s pains.

But here, though I am focused, I can't keep up with Ruth – she mentions doing an ultrasound and it is finished by the time I change the setting on my camera and reach the room. Her work is like triage after a disaster, every day. The waits are quick, but the cases are extreme. On call at night, a toddler in his father’s arms arrived with a knife wound to the eye. It was his good eye, the other blind from birth. When asked at 8pm when the accident occurred, we heard it happened that morning. At first, I feel angry – why was he not brought in earlier? Then, it occurs to me they likely have been on their way here since the accident occurred.

Another man refuses to give Ruth a direct answer to the simple question, “do you ever eat fruit?” She gives up after three tries and tells me he probably has chewed a lot of chat, and is experiencing the depression that follows the high. Today she’s
frustrated with people who won’t answer her questions. But, she does not show it. Each patient feels special in her presence. She has a way of repeating what they say to her that makes them know she is listening, even if she has a different idea of what to do. “So, the other doctor would not give you an x-ray for your stomach pain? I see. And, you feel you need an x-ray? Perhaps we could do a ultrasound instead, would that be okay with you?” She smiles at the patient, and nods, encouraging them to buy into her plan. She is incredibly gifted with non-verbal communication, which I think serves her well in this culture.

The woman we met in the clinic, whose breast was destroyed by TB shows up the next morning. I found her outside the hospital, wandering lost and ignored, and sent her to Ruth. She is one of four wives, and her husband no longer cares for her. She also has five sons and no daughters, and the sons do not care for her either. No one will pay for her to have help at
the hospital. Ruth thinks they must want her to die. It is decided that she can be cared for from the benevolent fund.

Since meeting her, the supreme sadness of her life sits on my shoulder. I see her when I look to my left. Her eyes, her face, her hand pulling back her shawl to show me the horrible wound. Me, the photographer, the one with absolutely zero ability to
help her aside from a hug and my warmest smile, I was given the pleading look, beseeching me to do what her family refused to do. To help.

I ask Ruth if she ever cries. She tells me two stories, one of a breach birth to a woman so brutally circumcised that the child could not be born. The woman’s mother was with her. Likely, it was she who cut her daughter and removed every part of her that said she was a woman. Ruth said the woman’s mother gazed blankly ahead, “I am not going to think about my responsibility in this tragedy.” Ruth said she cried over this because the baby did not die because of some environmental cause, but because of something done to his mother by another woman. The second time she cried because a mother starved her baby. She had too many children to feed. So, she kept food from the youngest, and when he was almost gone, brought him to the hospital. All the nurses cared deeply for the baby, and tried desperately to save him. Then, Ruth saw the moment the mother realized she could have brought him earlier and he would have lived. She saw the realization cross the mother’s face that she alone made a devastatingly wrong decision.

Later in the day, a little girl I kissed in the children’s ward succumbs to malnutrition and dies. I had seen her dad standing next to her bed each day when I went to take “my” boy for a walk. The vitamin enriched Unicef milk, purchased on the black market, did not arrive in time to save her.

Some things you can buy if you know who can get them, but morphine is next to impossible to get. Chemo, radiation, strong painkillers, common blood thinners for anesthesia are just a few of the things not found here. Some doctors have a small stash of pain killers. Ruth is not one to hoard, so today she gives a patient who is dying some relief. We talk about a friend who had his leg amputated above the knee. One of the other doctors kept the leg in his freezer to use as a teaching tool. “Honey, where is the ice cream?” “Check under the ankle!” Amputation seems to be the common cure for cancers, tumors, hyena attacks, snakebites and more.

A few days ago a container arrived from Switzerland. It was sent over after my last visit a year and a half ago and has been in customs until last week. It was filled with crutches, which will be put to good use. I saw a man on the street using a tall stick and swinging himself around it to move, so I asked my translator to send him to the hospital for a crutch. It is nice to think about how a crutch might change his life. I can handle thinking about a crutch today, but I can never do what Ruth does.

If you wish to help Ruth and her work, you can send her a donation (a check from an American bank is fine, there is just no tax deduction here:
Stichting Witte Velden te Hilversum
Postbanknumber 1485137
Netherlands
IBAN: NL 41 PSTB 0001 4851 37
BIC: PSTBNL21
mention her name: for Ruth Droppers

Email of the foundation is: stgwittevelden75@chello.nl
Email of contact person in Netherlands: estherdroppers@hotmail.com