The many faces of need

Talking to an old friend the other day about the needs we encounter here, and how we present our projects and our approach, I found myself explaining, "The situation's desperate, but not in the way people might expect..."

Many of the children we serve are hungry, absolutely--we distribute over four hundred pounds of rice every week, all of it to kids who wouldn't otherwise have a meal. That's the most important thing, but there are many who now have enough to eat, who have clothes on their backs, and who have at least basic shelter. That's when the problem becomes more complex: they need a means of supporting themselves, a regular income to secure not only food but an education and a future.

Lately, I've been working on ways to kill more birds with each dollar--how to help three orphanages by helping one; how to help the 133 homes in Liberia to help each other. In that vein, we're starting a new kind of micro-enterprise at two orphanages this week--a pilot project. The first home will produce laundry soap by refining native red palm oil--teaching the older children the entire process along the way--and we'll buy the soap at market price for distribution to other orphanages (a high and daily expense for them). From the second home, we'll buy pineapples and plantains from an up-country orphanage and use them to supplement the carb-heavy diet of kids in urban homes.

As for how we present ourselves, we'll continue to show you as vividly as we can with pictures, stories, and videos. We'll continue to portray these situations with integrity and sensitivity, and we'll continue to ask you to bless us so that we can bless more children here, in all kinds of circumstances.

You Can't Come Back Anymore

I was at one of the orphanages the other day when a funeral procession went by. About 8 men were carrying a big casket, and about 100 people followed them, wailing. After they passed, one of the kids came up to me and started talking about it.
"Auntie Mariel, somebody die. They go put him in the ground."
"Yes, somebody did die." We pause and I ask, "What happens when you die?" (Here I am thinking that this is a great opportunity to tell him of God's love for him, when what he said next shocked me.)
"You can't come back any more. Sometimes people can come and kill you while you sleep. Then you can't come back anymore."
I forget that these are kids who know death all too well. Some of them witnessed their parents and friends die. While they are resilient, many of them still live in fear. I look at them and think that a six-year-old shouldn't worry about someone coming to kill him in the middle of the night. He shouldn't have to think about whether the windows have locks on them, or how he would defend himself if someone were to break in. These aren't the typical childhood fears of the dark or of something under the bed. In some ways these kids have had to grow up way too fast. We see promise and progress, and it's easy to forget where this nation has come from. But this too is Liberia. Still healing, still hurting.

Liberian farming

After sending axes and cutlasses (machetes) to one orphanage's farm for weeks--and still getting requests for more--I decided it was time to see for myself this massive farm that I've tried several times to see but have been unable to reach. I've been told it's big and getting bigger, in preparation for the next planting season.
The road to the farm is a sandy walking trail ("Don' worry! The jeep can make it! No problem!") winding its way through mile after mile of dense rubber and palm and plantain trees. We got there eventually, picking up more and more pedestrians along the way in typical Liberian fashion (five adults in the back seat). We didn't tip over, we didn't get stuck, but instead of reaching a massive clear-cut, we stopped on the trail and walked the rest of the way through the shady jungle. The undergrowth had been slashed to form a sort of path but, after ten minutes of walking and hearing all the ins and outs of Liberian farming (how much a worker charges to clear ~5 acres by hand: about $8.50), we were no closer to the clear-cut I was expecting.
"How far distant 'till we reach the farm, ma?"
"O! Here--this is the area. We will put fire here and plant in March."
"Ah... So where is the rice and cassava area you've already planted?"
"O! No--we haven't planted yet. March."
"Ah... So where are you taking me?"
"The area is BIG -- forty-five acres. You don't want to see?"
"It all looks like this, right?"
"Yes--all clear, like this..."
"Ma, I think I'll come back in March when you put fire here..."

Don't get me wrong--these are great people, and they run a tight ship; they've been farming for many years, and I know they'll do well once they get it going again. Stay tuned for pictures of a 2 million square-foot forest fire!

Children Future 2

The ever-growing job description

Manage finances. Prepare reports. Deliver pigs. Wait. Since when does administration include swine delivery? Since last week, apparently: as part of our investment in an up-country orphanage's agriculture program, we asked them to prepare pens for four pigs, and Cramer and I delivered them last week to tremendous excitement on the kids' part (the home had a piggery before the war).

Soon, these three females and one male will provide the orphanage with sustainable income and a reliable, nutritious food supply. As an added bonus, we were able to support another orphanage by buying the pigs from THEIR agriculture program (69 pigs and counting!). Later on, the two homes can exchange males to keep growing.

I hope this pilot program will soon benefit more homes. It's always exciting to set a project in motion that you know will keep on snowballing for years. (Pictures soon!)

Korpu

Last month when Andrew, Cramer and I went to assess a new orphanage, right away we spotted Korpu. She was a textbook example of malnutrition: thin arms and legs, thin, colorless hair, and at 17 months old, she could barely balance herself sitting up, much less walk or stand alone.

We referred Korpu to Island Pediatric Hospital, where she was admitted for refeeding. After 1 week, Korpu was discharged, weighing in at 5.8 kg, or less than 13 pounds. She was placed on an NGO run feeing and weekly weighing program. Since her discharge, Korpu is much more alert and interactive. She is sitting up on her own, and last weighed in at 6.1kg. It looks like she could be an amazing success story. But, the question remains: “How did it get to this?”

The orphanage director stated that Korpu had always been a small child. Her mother is blind, and didn’t feel that she was able to care for Korpu, so when she weaned her, she left her with the orphanage. Kids between the ages of about 6 months to 2 years are at the highest risk here. They can’t get enough calories only eating once or twice a day, and while they can start to eat staple foods like rice and cassava root, these don’t provide the necessary nutrients for growing bodies. The orphanage couldn’t afford other nutritious foods like milk and beans, so Korpu became weaker and weaker.

So what is ORR’s response? We’ve placed the orphanage on our relief program, providing them with temporary, emergency food, medicines, and other essentials. But more importantly, we’re talking about nutrition, and looking at their farm and garden; seeing how the orphanage can provide all the food they need. Our hope is that we can equip them to keep the kids healthy without relying on outside assistance.

The outlook for 2008

Happy New Year, everyone! We had a great Christmas and NY's over here, enjoyed a little time off, and now we're jumping back in with renewed energy. Good thing too, because there's tons to do. We've got an extremely busy few months coming up, with plenty more construction, agricultural programs, and more and more expansion of relief and feeding programs.

It's exciting to see the progress that some homes are making that have been with us the longest, and now we're beginning to phase out their support so that they can stand on their own two feet and we can divert those resources to new homes. In this way, we're creating a cycle where we pick up the worst, feed and secure them, and then make a plan for how they're going to continue on their own.

If that sounds simple, it's not at all. But we're learning quickly, and with each new home it's getting a little smoother.

I'll try and do a better job of keeping the website more up to date, especially the news on the front page and our critical needs on the donation page. We'll also try and take more time to fill you in through the blog--our goal is always to make you, our friends and supporters, a part of what we're doing here.

Happy new year, and thanks for an incredible 2007.