Faces of Poverty

Faces of Poverty

Haiti Family Initiative Summer Program

Salvation Army Compound

Jamel, Haiti

Summer 2013

CARE

CARE

I volunteer my time to work for CARE, an international nonprofit organization that focuses on eradicating poverty by empowering women and children. Their work is currently in 95 countries, reaching millions and millions of people in developing countries.

I am a citizen advocate and I go to Capitol Hill once a year to meet with lawmakers and encourage them to vote for legislation that offers humanitarian relief to the 250 million people in this world who live in abject poverty. I feel a sense of urgency and great sadness to see how easy it would be to address so many of these issues that affect the quality of life for so many people. Eradicating much of our poverty is within our reach today. But determining solutions has become so political that we would rather allow people to die now than to prove our politics wrong.

Efforts to help others in need should never be political but should always be the focus of all humanity.

CARE.org

Keeper of the Rice

KEEPER OF THE RICE

Haiti Family Initiative Summer Program

Jamel, Haiti

Summer 2013

Little, dirty fingers slide in to the palm of my hands. 

They grab on to my belt loops. 

They hang on my purse straps. 

They cling to my legs. 

They know I am the keeper of the rice.

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Lunch Friend- Brazil

Lunch Friend

Brazil

January 1994

I arrived by ship to Baha, Brazil.  At first sight, the town was beautiful.  But then I walked a few streets away from the old city and found thousands and thousands of people living in abject poverty. It seemed as if no one had a job.  So when I came back to town, I then noticed more of the poverty.  Mostly I saw young boys begging for money, all of which went to a man perched on the corner, watching them intently.

I joked with a few of the boys and they followed me until they realized that I was not going to give them money.  After several blocks, they gave up left me. That is all but one small boy.  He stood outside the restaurant while I eat a meal.  He watched and noticed that I couldn't eat all of my food.  He rubbed his stomach in a circular position, the universal gesture for hunger.

I waved him in and gestured for him to sit at my table.  He complied reluctantly.  The waitress came over immediately and yelled at him to get out.  He stood his ground and pointed to me, "Amigos, amigos." The woman looked to me and I nodded my head and order a bottle of water for him.  She left in anger and came back with the water which she handed to him begrudingly.  The little boy sat with me and hummed as he ate my leftovers.  We left together, both knowing we would not be welcomed there again.

One Meal A Day

ONE MEAL A DAY

Jacmel, Haiti

Summer 2013

Haitian only eats one meal a day. When I asked my friend,  Jeams, What time of the day does your  family eats their meal?" He seemed puzzled.  "When the food comes", he told me. "When we find the food we eat. We don’t find the food, no.  No food that day."

Beggar Boy- Brazil

BEGGAR BOY

 BRAZIL 1994

This little boy came up to me and begged for money. He looked a lot like my own 8 year old nephew so I was immediately drawn to him. He looked so scrawny and hungry. I gave him a dollar. He took my dollar and ran off. I watched him as he went up to a man and give this man my money.

The next day, he approached  me again. “Hello Lady, I hungry, so hungry today”, he sadly told me.

I looked around and saw the man off in the distance. “What about the man?”, I asked as I pointed to him. The boy looked in the direction of the man, looked at me and ran off. He never begged from me again.

The Old Lady- Jacmel, Haiti

The Old Lady
Jacmel, Haiti

Haiti Family Initiative

Wellness Program

Summer, 2013

Wednesday, July 10, 2013- Her house is across the street from the Salvation Army compound, where we hold our camp. I noticed her the first day. She sits at the doorway by herself. I assume her family is working because I don’t see anyone attend to her. She is elderly, bone thin and feeble. I take her picture to add to my collection of sights that hold my interest.

 
On the third day, mid-morning, I walk pass her house. She is lying on her back on the cement floor, her head protruding out of the doorway. The hot sun is beating down on her face.  She waves to me, gesturing me to come over to her. So Lynn and I go over and it is the first time I can see how terribly destitute she is. There is a bed against the far wall. A small table and chair sit right by the door. There is a small metal pot, on the floor, next to her which must be her toilet. However, it appears as if she is not using it. Blood and fecal matter stain the floor. There is nothing else in this small, one room house.

She points to a chair which is low to the ground. Lynn and I attempt to lift her. Although she is probably no more than 75lbs, she is dead weight and it is a struggle to drag her two feet to the chair. The situation is more difficult because we don’t have a firm grip on her. She is so dirty that I can’t bring myself to grasp her tight enough.

Our gatekeeper, Lucien, sees us so he comes over to translate. She is 86 years old (my mother's age). She complains of pain. She is alone. She tells us that she is hungry and thirsty.

"Everyone in her family is dead, Madame", Lucien tells us without emotion. “She is a poor old woman.”

The neighbors apparently feed her from time to time. But I can’t understand how they can do this because they do not appear to have enough food for themselves.  This is a sobering moment for me.  How can this injustice be stated so causally?

I look at her long, broken toenails. Someone should attend to them. She should be bathed. Her skin abrasions should be looked at by a doctor. Her clothing should be burned. Someone should hug her. But I don’t to any of this because I do not have the strength of character to do this. I am ashamed of myself but not enough to do something.

We go back to the compound and ask Nadiv, the doctor, to look at her after he finishes the clinic.

"What does she need?" he asks me.

"Morphine", I tell him. “She needs to be put out of her misery. This woman needs to go home to her maker”.  He laughs and dismisses my response. But Nadiv does go over to see her and he is much more optimistic about her situation.

"She is alright, a little skinny but old people get skinny. She doesn’t have any tremors and she doesn’t smell too bad." He thinks she is just very old, weak and lonely. "But she's not too bad." We bring her a bowl of rice which she devours. We also give her some bananas we took from the hotel. We leave her with another bowl of rice.

I go over the next day to bring her more rice. I see that yesterday's bowl is filled with bread.  I immediately become suspicious that someone took her rice and left her with this stall bread. I hope this didn’t happen.  But I know there is no way to safeguard her from this despicable possibility.   Her situation is hopeless.

I look around her room and I am filled with despair.  I feel helpless.   This woman needs some sort of intervention.  But what can I do for her?  I can only commit to feed her every day for the reminder of my time in Haiti. But I hope and pray that she dies under my watch so that she might have a moment before her death of feeling loved and cared for. And so that I can walk away from Haiti and her without feeling as if I abandoned her.