World Food Programme – Marilyn R. Gardner

The snow that wrapped up this city and left us a paralyzed package with a big frozen bow at the top is down to a mere pile and a slush. It’s amazing that one week ago we never thought we would dig out of our piles. Warmer temperatures hit the greater Boston area and we are basking in sunshine and mid 40’s. Other than the fact that the snow left on the ground is ugly brown and grey streaked, the warm weather is welcome!

On to the wrap-up.

On Afghanistan and Women: On Valentine’s Day in Kabul, Afghanistan’s capital city, activists held a march protesting violence against women. Afghan men and women are speaking out, openly and loudly, to call for an end to violence and abuse. Read about the march in the article “Afghan Women March Against Violence” published in the Miami Herald. It’s a great reminder that lasting change happens from within.

On Street Kids in Karachi: Pakistan has one of the world’s largest populations of street kids. It’s throat catching tragic – but like so many things, there are whispers of redemption in the middle of horrible situations. This whisper of redemption is through a Street Kids World Cup soccer match. It’s an amazing endeavor and I’m so glad to know about it. Take a look at this article “Saving Karachi’s Street Children One Goal at a Time”. It is inspirational and educational.

“Finally, there was an arena that provided a clean slate for these children, where their worth was not dependent on what was in their pockets or whether they sold their bodies” ~ from the article.

On White Privilege: I don’t usually get into this topic – it’s too big, too complicated, too defeating. But having our oldest daughter with us for a couple of months is challenging me to look harder at some of the things I just brush off and don’t think about. My challenge this week came through an article that looks at the movie The Impossible. I am sure that this movie is amazing, and Naomi Watts has proven herself once more by being nominated for an Oscar for her role in this film. But – and this is a big but – isn’t it troubling that the film emerging about the Tsunami in 2004 that took thousands of lives, many of them children, most of them Asian, focuses on the survival of a white family? And the original family was Hispanic….! I know I’m posing a controversial opinion but I’d love for you to read this article called “Notes from the Margins: White People Problems” and see what you think. Weigh in through the comments or through the comments on the article itself.

On Making a Difference: Oh you will LOVE this website. Freerice.com is an organization that donates rice through World Food Programme to those in areas where hunger is rampant. But there’s a fun twist to their donation – they have you go into the site and answer questions – for every question you get correct, they donate 10 grains of rice. It doesn’t sound like much but through clicking through and answering questions correctly yesterday I ended up donating 660 grains of rice. It’s FUN! Try it today – if enough of you try it we can set up a Communicating Across Boundaries team.

On the Blog: Every day I’m reminded how amazing you all are – your comments are thoughtful, challenging, affirming and daily encourage. More and more comments have come on the post “‘Saudade’ – A Word for the Third Culture Kid.” If you get a chance – take a look. It’s amazing the responses that speak to belonging, memories, and loss.

On my Bedside Table: I took a break this week and did fun! I reread Rebecca by Daphne Du Maurier – that quintessential mystery, romance novel that many of us read in high school. I was not disappointed.’

Where ever you are – whether Istanbul, Yemen, Cairo, the UK or anywhere else – have a great day! As always – thanks for reading.

This entry is Part 4 of a 5 part series. If you have just begun to read please feel free to reference Part 1: Orientation. Thank you for your interest!

I am not familiar with the face of hunger. While I am aware of this as a problem, my personal view of it is limited. Somehow it works its way to a corner of my brain that registers “Real but not understandable” in a robotic voice. I grew up in the developing world and children with bloated stomachs and tiny legs were not uncommon. As often happens when one is a child and something is understood through a child’s eyes, adult experience is needed to bring better understanding and perspective. It was into this context that I saw the face of hunger with new vision.

It was the beginning of week two of our medical camps. This particular village had just been reinhabited. You could see the water line on the mud and brick homes about three feet from the ground. The crumbling bricks promised the need for a complete rebuilding of the homes in order to make them safe. With animation the women told us their story: “The water came! We knew we had to leave – we took whatever we could and walked 5 days to Khanpur. We couldn’t walk at night because of the robbers. Look! Look over there! You can see that the water is still here! We lost so much. We just returned a couple of days ago.” It was another story of loss and displacement.

This day it would be a tail-gate clinic. It forever changed the idea of tail-gating for me. The back of the van was opened and we arranged the portable pharmacy as best we could and began the clinic. (*It should be noted that one of the not so complimentary pictures of our trip was taken that day – that of 50 year old backsides bending and reaching over and into the back of a van. Not so pretty!)

There seemed more than the usual malnourishment today. We were giving out Plumpy’Nut like it was candy. “Two tablespoons, morning and evening” “Buh chumcha isubh, isham.” We had it down so when the community health worker was needed by the doctor we were covered!

The face of hunger came half way through the morning in the person of a young mom, emaciated with her dark eyes sunken into a lovely face, a baby clinging to her breast sucking furiously, desperate for a drop of milk. The breast was completely dry, there was no milk. The baby’s face and body so thin, wide-eyed, not even energy to cry. I stepped back, hardly believing what I saw. My heart caught in my throat and I felt a wave of nausea. The baby couldn’t have been more than 4 or 5 kilos but by his length I knew this was not a new-born. Maybe 7,8 months old. The mom was desperate. This was not malnourishment – this was starvation and Plumpy’Nut was not going to do it this time. An act of God and admission to the mission hospital is what was needed. The mom was holding her baby with a depth of love that words would fail to describe. Cradled in her arms, her eyes pleaded for help and a miracle.

I don’t know if the miracle ever came. The nature of our work was moving to different areas with medical needs daily. There was a need to move forward no matter how difficult the situation so that we weren’t paralyzed by emotions that would prevent us from helping others. During that minute we did exactly what we should have, what we could have. Vitamins, Plumpy’nut, instructions to the mom, a letter to authorize admission to the mission hospital, all with the un-spoken thought “It’s not enough, I know it isn’t enough”

The robotic part of my brain had been re-programmed with human emotion to cry out to God to feed and comfort the face of hunger. My response to “care for the widow and the orphans” would be forever adjusted.

“Pure and genuine religion in the sight of God the Father means caring for orphans and widows in their distress”