10.24.07
Posted in AV 2007-08 Domestic at 9:19 pm by danroderick
It was pretty much a typical day at the orphanage. Jesse and I helped reorganize the food storage area, with giant bags of rice and beans. We were helping out in the baby room when I decided to walk out and see what was happening outside. When I looked to my left towards the office, it seemed like there was some commotion.
I immediately focused on a little face that I didn’t recognize. Then another. “Ven Daniel” one of the women said to me, “hay nuevos niños.” I went right over to meet the newcomers. There were ten of them. Ten in one day. Of course they all looked scared and confused. I watched momentarily while the representatives from DIF (Mexican Child Protective Services) filled out paperwork with the director of the orphanage. My eyes jumped around, taking in the scene. To the 1.5 year old with her tear filled eyes sitting on the DIF woman’s lap. Next, to her brother, five years old, standing by the desk - Keeping completely silent and clinging to a lollipop as a steady stream of tears poured down his face as well. As I went over to him, it only barely occurred to me that I would be one of his first impressions of his new home. When tears were dried and a very brief smile surfaced, I realized that some of my most important jobs here will be ones that nobody asked me to do.
Fast forward two days and we are back at the orphanage again. It’s time to test ourselves on the new names and personalities that we began to learn on Monday. We do well, and the kids certainly remember us. I sit with Carlos Ivan on the couch to talk, and he starts to cry. He tells me he doesn’t like it here. He wants to leave to go be with his brothers. I give everything that I have to make him feel better, and it works “temporarily” with a few minutes of laughing and comfort. But the distraction is short-lived and he starts to cry again. Meanwhile, I am also struggling to fight off Gabi’s flying attacks on my lap, a great little kid, but clearly a bit of a “punk”. Depending on the moment, you might get a slap in the face, a punch in the gut, a rock thrown at you, or maybe a hug. Anyway, Gabi is climbing my lap when he realizes that Carlos is crying. He stops and stares at him in a moment of confusion. With more compassion than I can believe, he asks where it is that Carlos keeps saying he wants to go to. I watch in silence as Gabi, 4 years old, reaches over and puts a hand on the older boy’s shoulder. He holds his hand. He leans his head up against him. I am amazed. I literally could not believe what I was watching as our little trouble-making Gabriel comforted the boy twice his size. All I could do was move aside, knowing that this preschooler could do more than I could at that moment.
As you would expect, the kids sometimes need more affection than most kids. I was not used to ten year old boys crying and need to be held and comforted because someone stole their ball. I am now. You start to realize that often times they are upset about more than just what is happening at the moment. There are so many other things that have been wrong or missing in their lives, that the small things sometimes get to them.
The more we learn (and suspect) about the lives of all the kids, the sadder it is. I have said before that I do not leave feeling depressed. That is still true, but there are those moments. The moments when I’ll hear something that happened, or a thing that one of them endured, and it is almost too much. The kinds of things that make anyone feel sick and upset when you think about them, and are especially upsetting because we care so much about these kids. Anger. Frustration. Sadness. I give into all of these emotions at times. To be completely honest though, these feelings do not stay with me long. Despite all that they’ve gone through and the challenges they face, I cannot be with these kids and not feel happy. It is a talent they have. I love spending time with them. I love being called over to sit next to them for the movie, helping them with their English (or Spanish) homework, playing soccer, a game we make up, or just sitting and talking. It feels good to know that our presence really means something to them. I guess those negative feelings that creep up when I think of all the hardships in my kids’ lives, don’t really help anybody. Instead, I think they are all transformed to strengthen my motivations, convictions, and compassion. These things are far more useful and productive when it comes to issues like these.
To be faced with the sometimes very depressing issues presented by my kids’ lives and yet feel happy and inspired - that is the power of Hogar Infantil La Gloria.
Dan Roderick
San Diego, CA
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Posted in AV 2007-08 Domestic at 1:19 pm by jeanniemac
“Ordinary people who make simple, spiritual commitment under the lordship of Christ make an extraordinary impact on their world” is a quote by John Maxwell, hanging on the wall of the St. Margaret’s of Scotland library that I now call “my office”. This bright and cheerful space filled with scattered sunlight was not always a desirable destination for the nearly 400 students that roam the halls of St. Margaret’s. A space that is intended for learning and exploring the works of hundreds of writers looked like an attic that had been untouched for years, expect for the occasional visit to switch boxes of decorations for the different holidays.
When I pushed through the double doors that first day, literally using all my body strength since there was no key to open a jammed lock, my jaw hit the floor. I wanted to believe my eyes were lying to me, but they weren’t. The vice principle continued gabbing on about the new paint job that I barely noticed since I had to watch my step so I didn’t trip over boxes filled with books. As I look back now, I think the new paint job was to distract me from the immense amount of work that was ahead of me. By the end of that first day, my “first day of school outfit” was spotted with dirt and dust and my spirits were incredibly low. Saying that I went home to my community that day overwhelmed would be an understatement.
My roommate and co worker, Ms. Claire, as she is known by her energetic crop of 3 and 4 year old students, recognized I was feeling low that afternoon. She had seen first hand what I would be dealing with and understood the frustration of receiving little direction from our Principle, who in my opinion is the busiest man in the Southside of Chicago. She approached me in our bedroom and quietly closed the door behind her and selflessly allowed me to pour out all the emotions that were flying through my head. After a few tears the conversation ended with the two of us brainstorming ideas for the library and a step by step action plan for the next month. By the time dinner was on the table, my game plan for turning the library around was set.
The remaining weeks of September were filled with endless days of scrubbing bookshelves with a half empty bottle of Mr. Clean I found in an abandon closet and sorting through books on any subject you can think of. There were days I would return home with blackened knees covered in dirt nearly defeated and exhausted. I felt as if the library would never be finished and forget ever meeting the students that would potentially use the library. The only strength came from the motivating conversations I had with my housemates every evening.
The six of us would gather around our dinner table to feast on that night’s cuisine and talk about our jobs. Each of us had our concerns and days we felt we would never feel comfortable in our new environment. Although each of us may have held reservations with our own jobs, we all were able to give messages of hope to one another. Amanda who was struggling to understand the role of caseworker in her own job, always found time to inquire about the progress I was making in the library. She would constantly remind me how grateful the students and teachers would be once I was finished.
There was one day in particular where my spirits were lifted. Chicago’s schools were closed on a Monday in late September for a staff development day that we did not have to attend. Brett, Claire, and I decided this day would be a good opportunity to organize our separate classrooms at St. Margaret’s. Our other housemates, Pat and Susan decided to come along as well. After a quick tour of the school, Pat and Susan found themselves sorting and alphabetizing picture books. The once daunting task became an assembly line of sorts with the help of extra hands. By the end of the day, Pat and I devised a plan to allow some of his high school students the opportunity to obtain much needed service hours by helping me sort books after school.
By the time October rolled around, I was greeted each morning with a constant stream of students inquiring when the library would be open. My answer was always the same, “soon!” There were three visitors that were and still remain constant. Jaylen, Karl, and Marcus stop by everyday. When their busy 8th grade workloads allow them to, they commit their free time to helping me sort books or just chat away the afternoon about their upcoming football games. They would help me hang up posters and pick inspiring quotes to hang on the barren walls. Watching the three of them express their pride for their school by helping me has made me realize that my efforts have not gone unnoticed.
My days are now filled with students stirring around the bookshelves choosing a new book to read and it is hard to imagine the library in those first few weeks. The excitement on students’ faces as they walk into the library for the first time is priceless. Looking into their eyes has clarified why I chose to commit to a year of service.
Jeannie MacCune
Chicago, IL
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10.03.07
Posted in AV 2007 International at 7:02 am by matthews
sweet breath. i’ve had the opportunity to absorb a lot of this since i came to south africa, and its the honestly the sweetest breath i’ve ever smealt. youd think something so desireable would be alot less accessible, at least according to human theories like supply and demand. but not here in south africa. the amount of umphefumulomtoti that flows around here is overwhelming sometimes. its everywhere, people all over are sharing this sweetness with each other. in fact, i’ve never been in a place before that has such an abundance of this sweetness. one of the first times i was blessed with this fragrance was while sitting with a patient- Baba Phakathi- at the Hillcrest Aids Centre Respite Unit where i’ve been working this year. Phakathi was a stubborn man of middle age who could be a real bastard sometimes. he was suffering from AIDS in its final stage, and in lots of pain. he had severe diarrhoea, TB, painful, swollen feet, no appetite, and a number of other side effects that people suffer from when they have HIV/AIDS. of course all of this lead to extreme weight loss, inability to walk or even go to the toilet on his own. he could be a pretty rude person when he wanted to and he made a lot of people angry. but he had the sweetest damn breath you could ever imagine. and ever since smelling it on him, i’ve actually been unable to avoid it, no matter where i go. it just seems to be in the everywhere. numerous other patients have also had the same umphefumulomtoti. i smell it at local clinics while waiting in dreadful queues, or at the hospital where people lay scattered all over the place, in their own feces( to sick or oppressed to even ask what the hell is going on). sometimes, when doing visits with nurses or fetching patients in the local communities, im smacked in the face with it as i walk into someones home. its so sweet and it pours out from all of these places with such abundance. its inescapable! but where does it get its sweetness from? in the morning, as the mist lifts and rolls itself over the toppling hills, so to does umphefumulomtoti. then during the day it disguises itself in the often humid air, tucking itself deep into the valleys, where it hovers over our friends and families that surround us. At night, it either accompanies the stale humidity left over from the day or it fuses with the dark clouds that eventually shower us with this umphefumulomtoti. but still, where does it come from? it comes from the millions of people that are dying from a horrible epidemic. david phakathi was the first person i accompanied as he was being called by God. Since then, i’ve had the blessing to be with many others as they too are relieved of their suffering. i myself find it difficult to place those two words in the same sentence-blessing and suffering. watching someone suffer is the worst thing that i’ll ever have to do in my life, no matter where i am or what i might be doing. its absolutely terrible and just one of those things that i dont know if i’ll ever be able to understand. however, when the suffering is so bad and brings you to that point when you begin to question everything, BAM! there it is: umphefumulomtoti, the sweetest breath. yes, its the breath of someone who is about to die. and yes it really is everywhere. sometimes it reveals itself days in advance, and other times its just minutes, or even seconds. and its strange to think that something that can be so sad and bring us so much pain, carries with it the sweetest aroma on this earth. but it does, and thats because its God work. i dont know what its like to suffer as someone in this situation, although i wish i did. i wish there was more i could do for some of my friends who i watch go through this, but i dont know what. as i try to reason all of it out in my head, i am humbled by the fact that they, in this time of great distress, somehow find the strength to take all of their sufferings- all of the pain, all of the rubbish, all of the infections, the bacteria, the parasites, the vomitting, the diarrhoea, the TB, the pills, the sores, and any other thing that someone with HIV/AIDS might have inside them- and they offer them up to the Lord who then transforms them into umphefumulomtoti. Its such a distinct scent that it cant be mistaken for anything else. Its like bringing together the fragrance of a freshly bloomed rose with the the most fresh, most pure honey you can find. you can actually taste it. it completely takes over your body, overloading all of your senses and occupying every part of your soul. Its “umphefumulomtoti”, the sweetest breath. ive sat beside many people now, during this time, and i find myself trying to take in as much of it as possible, and im grateful that in their final moments, our companions so graciously offer us this breath of life! uxolo ayibenabo, peace be with them!
matthew liccketto
south africa
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