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Last revised 19 January, 2008 9 October, 2001: What a day! Today we lived the words of Jesus: Whatsoever you do to the least of my people, you do to me. Unless you become like children, you cannot enter the kingdom of heaven. The poor you will always have with you. Go out and proclaim the Good News to the whole world, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Today we were not the ministers. Today, the people of Haiti ministered to us. We flew into Haiti from Miami early (EARLY!) in the day, and had a full day before getting the chance to check into our hotel. We started at a school for young girls. They were beautiful, smiling kids with bright eyes, pressed uniforms, and a song in their hearts. They sang for us, clapped for us, and played with us. Later, we visited the boys' school, and if ever you had any doubts about the inherent differences between boys and girls, you had only to see these children to understand. The girls were mostly shy and reserved, at least until we started to play and sing with them. The boys, on the other hand, were anything but shy. The girls beds were individual. Each bedspread was splattered with a decorative pattern of paint, and most had personal items. The boys beds, also neatly made, all looked the same. (Any parent who has raised a teenaged daughter will confirm that young boys are predators who travel in packs, while girls tend to individualize their conformity. The older boys [over 12, that is] seemed particularly interested in a young, African-American female reporter who accompanied our group. The girls were more interested in the young photographer who accompanied her and us. Alas, the rest of us were more interesting to the Senior Citizens!) These children were startling. Their eyes held a pure joy and dignity that we didn't see in the children on the streets, with their homes made of tin and cinder block, sometimes old billboards (Pepsi seems to be a favorite for some reason), and often without electricity, running water, or even such a basic amenity as a roof or floor. Without garbage pickup or public sanitation, trash lined streets with potholes literally big enough to swallow a bus. We were told that Haitian custom requires asking permission before taking photographs, so we were asked not to take pictures except in facilities sponsored by Food for the Poor, and so I can't show you pictures of what I'm talking about. I can tell you that it would break your heart. There is no visible sign of a public infrastructure at all. Many of the nicer homes, commercial and public buildings, and facilities such as those operated by Food for the Poor, are surrounded by walls that are 8 feet/2.5 meters high and topped with razor wire or broken glass bottles. Facilities like those operated by Food for the Poor are an oasis in the midst of destitution, so many more children would want to get in than the facilities can handle. As in The Starfish, if you can save just one, it matters to that one. Food for the Poor is saving many, but unfortunately they cannot accommodate the total need. We were told that public schools exist, but since uniforms are required, many can't afford to attend. Agencies such as Food for the Poor provide not only schooling but also food and uniforms for their students, who also receive breakfast and lunch, and go home with food to feed the whole family ... probably their only meal. At least those who have families bring food home. Many live at the orphanages, which house girls and boys practically from birth all the way to age 18. These children are packed into dormitories like sardines in a can, and yet every bed (top and bottom bunks) was neatly made, and many featured a prayer book (the New Testament and Psalms, in French, of course), a stuffed animal, a rosary, a holy card, or other signs of personal occupation. That bed is a child's corner of the world, and probably the only corner they have ever had. Many have been abandoned on street corners, sometimes on garbage dumps, or otherwise in absolute squalor. These homes cannot house another child unless they hang him or her from the ceiling. We met a child named David who was found abandoned on a garbage dump. Another child watched both his parents die from AIDS. Many parents have abandoned their children because they cannot afford to raise them, or can't afford to raise them all, or because the child is sickly or handicapped. For them, it is a matter of survival. They feel it is better to save three healthy children than one handicapped child. Food for the Poor and similar organizations provide for some. The others die. And 50% of the children in Haiti will not live to see their fifth birthday. The average life expectancy is in the 40's; the average annual income is $330 less than an American high school student can make in a month working part-time at a fast food restaurant! That's right, the average annual income is less than the monthly pay of an American minimum wage for working a 13.5-hour week! But the elderly may have it worse. With health care non-existent, most are not productive in their old age, and young families cannot afford to support their grandparents at the expense of their children. Many are allowed to die simply because there is no practical way for most families to care for them. I guess you figured out by now that Food for the Poor also operates a nursing home, didn't you? We were really blessed to end our "road trip" by celebrating Holy Mass with them. They sang and danced, kissed and hugged, smiled and clapped, and generally had a grand old time. And we sang and danced, kissed and hugged, and smiled and clapped right back. What a beautiful faith they showed us! At the same time simple and profound, they carried the wisdom of the ages and the face of Jesus in their eyes. God truly blessed us with their company. It's late, and tomorrow is another day. With all that we saw today, we understand that tomorrow we will visit the poor section of Port Au Prince. As bad as things were today it is really hard to believe that it will get worse. I'll tell you about it tomorrow.
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