Honduras Inaugurations

On Monday, Oct. 4th, 2010, I landed in Tegucigalpa, the capital of Honduras, (one of the scariest airports for landings and take-offs in the world). There is a very large mountain that appears to be right at the end of the runway – no matter whether you are taking off or landing! This was to be a “good news” trip because we were visiting there to inaugurate a number of housing and self-sustainability projects all over the country. Food For The Poor (FFP) has funded these communities in collaboration with CEPUDO, a local organization with which we partner that is devoted to the betterment of the lives of the poor, particularly women and children. The tireless, dynamic Linda Coello, who has recruited similarly energetic people to help her with her mission, leads CEPUDO, as founder and President.

We immediately set out for Valle de los Angeles in the mountains outside of the capital, where we inaugurated a village of high altitude, surrounded by beautiful mountains, with two nearby rivers whose rolling waters added their calming songs to the area. Truly, it felt as if there would be Angels hovering nearby. The homes looked like colorful chalets, and I joked with them when I was invited to speak, reminding them that my name was Angel and therefore they should build one of the homes for me in this special place. The happiness of the new homeowners was palpable and I reminded everyone that they should be very proud as they all, from youngest to the eldest, contributed their labor to achieve the completion of these long-awaited homes. I felt that I was in heaven – almost literally!

The community was named to honor Fr. Peter Drouin, a Canadian priest who devoted many years to helping the extreme poor of that vicinity. The First Lady of Honduras, Rosa Elena de Lobo, attended the inauguration. The community regaled us with music, folk dances and delicious food. A beautiful young lady, dressed in typical costume, invited me to join the dancers, despite my natural shyness :o), I quickly joined her on the stage area and allowed my Cuban/Jamaican heritage to come to my aid. I love to dance!

We then left for Nacaome, and I was warned repeatedly on the three and a half-hour ride, that even though it was their “cool time,” the city was well known to be the hottest in the country. We arrived at night and it was pleasantly cool. I gently chided my companions for their exaggerations. The next day, I went for an early morning walk in the city and it was equally cool. I felt myself wondering if the Hondurans in the group really new the meaning of the word “hot”. Having lived in Santiago (Cuba), Kingston (Jamaica) and South Florida all my life, I really understood “hot” – and that wasn’t even close to what I’ve experienced!

We left for the inauguration of homes at a place formerly called El Agujero (The Hole), but since receiving their new homes, the residents have changed the name to Valle de la Esperanza (Valley of Hope). At about 9:30 that morning, the gates of hell opened and it rained fire on that area as we all sat at the head table with sweat pouring off of us. It really was hot! My Honduran friends looked at me (rapidly dehydrating) with a knowing smile that shouted out, “I told you so!” - At the Miami airport, on the way back home, I met a young man from Honduras who was studying medicine in Madrid. He asked about our work in Honduras and I told him about the inaugurations. When I mentioned Nacaome, he said that he was from that area and he added that, “everyday at noon, the devil comes down to Nacaome in order to sell the cold sodas that he can’t sell in hell!”

The inauguration in Nacaome was an emotionally charged experience. Many of the women cried tears of happiness at the thought that the concept of being homeowners had suddenly become a reality. The poignant words of one of the women of the community that received a home truly touched my heart.

Someone pointed out a young woman to me, Guerlinda, and explained that when she was found to be HIV+ by her family, they threw her out of the house. An elderly woman from that village, Doña Francisca, took her in, nourished the sickly young woman whose health had deteriorated from being homeless and completely broke, and has treated her as a newly-found daughter since that time. I was so happy that now they would be able to live more comfortably, sharing their
new home.

I later had the opportunity to speak to Doña Francisca. I gave her a big hug and told her that I had heard of what she had done for Guerlinda. She looked at me with tears in her kind eyes and said, “We are poor, but even the poor can give.” So close to tears…

Again, we were treated to lively music, beautiful folk dances performed by small kids and adults, food, drink and many hugs. The poor have so little, but they are generous in giving what they have.

From here we traveled about half-hour to an area of Nacaome called The Corner of the Donkey. We also built homes here. The villagers testified that one of the women of the community had had a vision from God in her sleep that the community would receive homes, and in less than a year that vision turned out to be prophetic. Again, the villagers expressed their gratitude for their newly acquired homes, as their homes before were literally sticks and plastic sheeting. They have since changed the name of the community to “Rincon de los Milagros” (Corner of Miracles).

It struck me, as I heard of the new name, that our donors, our staff and our partners in the countries we serve are truly performing miracles. I witnessed miracle after miracle on this trip to Honduras. Unfortunately, we have many left to perform, so let us be strong and take heart. We shall continue in our relentless pursuit of the miraculous!

From here we drove to Comayagua – a beautiful colonial city surrounded by both mountains and extreme poverty. Julio, our photographer for this trip, accompanied me on a two-hour walk/conversation exploring the beauty of this ancient city. In the morning I also took a more lonely early-morning walk and was able to see the inside of the charming Cathedral/Basilica of this first capital city of Honduras. The stay at the hotel, albeit for only one night, was typical of the city in its charm and loveliness.

After an early breakfast, we drove out to an area outside the city where is housed the technical mission of our wonderful partners ICDF (Taiwan), the charitable arm of the Taiwanese government. They have gifted FFP and the poor with their expertise in aquaculture (tilapia farming), agriculture, animal husbandry and education/technology.

On this occasion we joined them for the inauguration of five tilapia ponds, each with a capacity for 10,000 fish. We released 10,000 fingerlings into each pond and we thought of the tremendous difference that 50,000 adult tilapia would make to that community, both nutritionally and financially.

We then traveled with them up the mountain to inaugurate a “pelibuey” (hair-sheep) project. These are sheep that have hair instead of wool and they are known for the quantity and quality of the meat they produce. The herd of 50 females and 5 males are a mixture of hair-sheep and black-belly sheep. The recipients expressed deep appreciation for this wonderful opportunity that they had been given to feel the pride of supporting their own families through this project.

On to the long ride to get to Peña Blanca (White Rock) where we were inaugurating 12 homes in a community with a very interesting history. Fifty years ago, an American doctor from Texas decided to move to this area of Honduras and, together with his beautiful wife, he devoted his life to the care of the poor residents of the area. The couple founded an orphanage, which is still run by family members (a daughter and granddaughter who is a nurse) and they truly thought of the children there as their children. Sadly, Dr. Johnburg passed away some years ago, but his 89 year-old widow was there for the celebration. Her energy was incredible, as she maneuvered herself with a walker on the difficult, wet, sloping terrain while recuperating from a broken hip! Her eyes sparkled with love for her adoptive children and her smile was contagious.

It poured almost the entire time that we were there, but this did not dampen the spirits of any of those present. We were regaled with music and songs from a children’s choir and a trio of women, home recipients. All were originally orphans from the aforementioned orphanage. They harmonized beautifully as they sang a rendition of two Christian songs. As we listened, our shoes were stuck in the mud, but our spirits were soaring like kites. Beautiful evening!

Marale, in the department of Francisco Morazan, was likely the hardest hit area by Hurricane Mitch in 1997. They suffered great loss, including loss of life. Many promises had been made to them, but little was done. Now, for the first time, promises were fulfilled in the form of 44 new homes for the families living in the worst condition. I was proud to represent FFP in bringing a ray comfort into their chronic and profound suffering.

One can see the deeply-etched sadness in the faces of the people there. One of the speakers stated that the name of Marale has been written with pain, suffering, tears, sweat and blood. At long last there was some relief.

The town of Marale was amidst the department’s many mountains. The town’s one church, Church of the Black Christ, dominated the town atop its highest point. The road from the church led one down to the humble but quaint town square – a town obviously lacking resources.

When walking though Marale, I came across the town’s “loca” (“crazy lady”), named Virginia. I was captivated by her, initially because she reminded me of a drawing that appeared next to a poem by the Cuban black poet, Nicolas Guillén, called “La Muerte” (Death). Her face appeared skeletal. I believe she is homeless, living in the forest outside of the town. Her teeth were in terrible condition, she was in great need of a bath, her hair was uncombed and matted. Her face and hair were covered with dried-on dirt. When I spoke to her, I wondered how long since a human being had touched her (physically or emotionally). I wanted to hug her, but at that moment I could not find the courage. While I was talking to her, I did place my hand gently on the side of her face.

Later, when I spoke at the inauguration of the new homes in the village, I felt compelled to challenge the citizens to make efforts to take care of Virginia as a collective responsibility of the town. The mayor and the people responded kindly to this challenge after my talk and promised to do something about her living conditions. Some of the visiting mayors from nearby towns thanked me for bringing up what was surely a sensitive issue and they promised to do something about the mentally challenged people of their towns as well.

I have made a promise to myself that one day I will return to give her the warm hug that I was not brave enough to give her during our first brief encounter.

Her face continues to haunt me.

To view more pictures from Angel’s trip, please visit the Food For The Poor Facebook album.

Haiti: Six Months Later

Our Farewell Dinner
The night before we departed on this greatly anticipated trip, I invited the group traveling to Haiti to my home for dinner. Included were Don Moen, the well-known Christian music composer and performer whose inspirational songs have graced our prayer-room at Food For The Poor (FFP) for many years, his son Michael , whom I would meet for the first time that night, and Jesse Sproul, Don’s general manager. Alice Marino, FFP’s director of marketing, Sydney Henry, our radio manager, and Leann Chong, our missions’ director. Toby Brooks, a friend and past student of mine who was invited on the trip as photographer, brought his lovely girlfriend Liann. Ian Wood, our new videographer, was at work late and was not able to make it.

Believing that a good meal can elevate the spirit and encourage good fellowship, I cooked all day to prepare a delicious meal fit for a king, followed by five desserts. I was pleased that many enjoyed second helpings (and some thirds) and that the desserts were welcomed with unabashed enthusiasm. The mood was celebratory and, although the ages in the group varied widely from 24 to 60, everyone got along very well, which is a good thing as we were about to embark on an experience that would truly bond our hearts and souls in a very special way.

Hope For Honduras

The Beginning

Our group of 32 excited pilgrims departed for the capital of Honduras, Tegucigalpa (Tegus), on Tuesday, June 29th, to share our love with the poor of that beautiful nation along with our partners there who, like ourselves, want to transform the suffering that exists into dignity and hope. Vicki Kaufmann, our director of Speakers’ Bureau, Ed Young, our new country manager for Honduras and myself were sharing this pilgrimage with 29 of our devoted speakers. These gentlemen of the clergy, many well over retirement age but refusing to define their lives by mere numbers, are Food For The Poor’s (FFP’s) army of knights errant. Priests, pastors and deacons all, they brave the weather of all seasons, and worse, the airports of all cities, to spread the beautiful Gospel message of love that brings hope to the poor of the Caribbean and Latin America. Their great efforts over the years have changed the hearts of many in our own country.

We landed in “Tegus” by the grace of God, as both landing and taking off from this city are terrifying experiences. The mountains that dominate the city seem to be only feet from the airport runway. We were met by our wonderful partners in Honduras, the people of CEPUDO, an organization led by a most dynamic woman, Linda Coello, who not only has a most genuine love for the poor but also the energy of a young child after a few bars of candy. She seems to know everyone in Honduras – the priests, the cardinal and bishops, the mayors, the governors and the ministers. She never accepts no for an answer when she is begging on behalf of the poor. The chapters of her mostly volunteer organization are now nationwide and their efficiency is admirable.

Guyana adventure

It is quite an adventure just traveling to Guyana. First, we boarded a flight from Miami to Trinidad, having a layover in “Trini” of about seven hours.  A late-night flight from there brought us to Georgetown, the capital of Guyana – a little after 11:00 PM.  Then, after an hour’s drive from the airport, we finally arrived at our hotel accommodations.

Our layover in Trinidad was used to good end as we visited our friends and partners at “Living Water Community.” We work closely with this organization in Trinidad to distribute goods we send for the poor of this country and also to oversee any projects that we may realize there. My old friend, Rhonda Maingot, is the leader of this organization. After a tour of the warehouse with Bronia, Rhonda took our group (Mike Anton, Projects Director, Susan James, Country Manager for Jamaica/Guyana/Trinidad and me) to dinner and some lively conversation. Another old friend, Lailas, joined us at the restaurant and afterwards, with Rhonda, they dropped us off at the airport outside of Port of Spain.

Guatemala -- After the floods

In early June 2010, after severe flooding occurred in Guatemala, a small team from Food For The Poor (FFP) – including Alice Marino, Director of Marketing, and Mark Khouri, Director of Goods In Kind - traveled with me there to meet with our partners, Caritas Arquediocesana. The purpose of our trip was to visit some of our joint programs in the country. Traveling at the same time was a team from a very large and reputable (not to mention generous and charitable) corporate leader in the food industry, which included their president. This giant U.S. corporation with a heart of gold has been developing a vitamin and iron enriched, turkey based, protein product to help combat the frightening incidence of malnutrition, which often results in death or stunted growth.  FFP and Caritas have partnered with this corporation in order to help with testing and distribution of the nutritional product in Guatemala City and its environs. This is successfully accomplished through nearly 30 Mother and Child (M & C) programs administered by Caritas and supported by FFP through its USDA McGovern-Dole Food For Education Program.

This canned turkey product, together with our rice, beans and oil received from the USDA, has been distributed over recent months to all eligible mothers in the program. In addition to the food, the Caritas staff has trained community leaders in each of these centers to educate women in the program about proper nutrition and care of their children, including teaching them about aspects of their growth and development. We witnessed some of these educational sessions and the Caritas staff  is to be congratulated for a job well done.

During our visit to the centers, the weight and height of each child was recorded, and the level of hemoglobin in the blood was measured in order to compare current information with data that had been captured when the program began. While the research and development (R & D) people were busy taking measurements, some of us visited homes, which proved to be very educational and moving experiences.

Haiti Diary: After the earthquake

THE BEGINNING

About two hours before the “sinister” hit Haiti, I was on my way to the Miami Airport to take a flight to the Dominican Republic (DR) to meet with the country’s president. On my way there, I received a call advising that he would not be able to meet with me. I decided to cancel my flight.

When we first learned of the earthquake, we could not have imagined the extent of the devastation, despite the announced 7.0 magnitude. Food For The Poor had a missions group traveling in Haiti at that time including 12 Lynn University students, two faculty advisors and our director of Food For The Poor’s (FFP’s) Mission and Travel Department, Leann Chong, who was leading the “Journey of Hope.” As part of their curriculum, Lynn students had established a program with us which included their students traveling with us to Jamaica and Haiti, their purpose being to see first-hand and come to better understand the extreme poverty of developing nations and learn more about some of the possible solutions. This was their third trip with us.

Their first trip to Haiti with FFP, one that I was fortunate enough to share with them, inspired them greatly. Upon their return, they formed an organization on campus called “Students for the Poor.” This organization would bring awareness to others of the suffering of the poor which they had witnessed, as the members would organize activities to raise funds for different projects that would help alleviate the tremendous suffering.

Mothers

“A sword will pierce your heart.”

Those words, spoken to Mary by the aged Simeon, ring true for all mothers. With the discomforts of pregnancy, when features swell with gained weight, a once graceful walk becomes a waddle, and the excruciating pain of the last stages of labor make her scream in agony, a mother takes a look at her bloody, mucous filled infant, the cause of all her recent sorrows. She presses him to her breasts and feels nothing but comfort and joy.

Then she takes home her bundle of joy and says goodbye to rest and sleep. Even when the baby is sleeping soundly, she worries about forgetting to breathe and crib death and so she gets up every so often and lays hands gently on him just to make sure that he is still breathing… still alive.

Our Drums of Hope

Nations of rice and rum, of drought and storms,
Let us hear your song! Let us hear your song!
Nations of beans and corn,
Let us hear your song!
Nations of breadfruit and yams,
Let us hear your song!

The guitar is wounded with five sharp swords.
Oh, what a sad song! What a sad song!
A song of hunger and thirst,
What a sad song!
A song about premature night,
What a sad song!

The Mayan flute plays a mournful dirge.
Don’t play that song! Don’t play that song!
A song of yearning for little ones gone,
Don’t play that song!
A song of worry for those who don’t have long.,
Don’t play that song!

Once proud men sing songs of sighs.
Sigh no more! Oh, sigh no more!
Standing in dank, too crowded cells.
Oh, sigh no more!
Dreaming dreams of dreamlessness.
Oh, sigh no more!

The daughters of Africa sing as they weep.
.Dry your tears! Oh, dry your tears!
A song of angels of dust and children of fear.
Oh, dry your tears!
Of breasts that have no milk to spare.
Oh, dry your tears!


Wait! In the distance a faint sound is heard.
Come, come, sweet drums!
Don’t go! It grows louder by and by.
Ring true, joyful tambourines!
What song is this that dares disrupt despair?
That ebbs the flow of brackish tears?

Come, come, sweet drums!
Bring forth your songs of sturdy homes,
Of clear, cool water that does not kill,
Of books and art and useful skills.
Come, come, sweet drums!
Your song is now just born.

Come, come, sweet drums!
A Balm of Gilead is your song.
A song of fish and bread and work,
Come, come, sweet drums!
A song of dignity and hope,
So that all can dance along.

Come, come sweet drums!
So that our brothers and sisters
Will weep and sigh no more!

Hush, Ayiti’m – A Prose Poem For Haiti

I cannot forget you, Haiti.
As I depart from your weeping shores,
I steal your salty air in my greedy lungs.
I smell nothing
but the scent of your sorrow and suffering.
The memory of your unique cuisine
resides permanently in my mouth.
Your sovereign soil
deeply embedded beneath my nails.

Home… I’m home…
yet you continue to haunt me.
The lines of my ageing hands
remind me of your dous granmoun.
I picture the hypnotic eyes of your little ones
as I glance in the eyes of my own.
I look at my lovely Denise,
remembering the mothers
who have seared my soul with scalding tears.

Hush, Ayitim.
I have visions and I dream dreams.
I sit on my porch and rock
Looking deep into eternity.
I see your mountains green with hope,
Your gleeful boys teasing young coquettes
Who scream and laugh
Shaking the thousand sunlight ribbons
In their jet black braids.

Hush, Ayiti’m.
I see your aged ones praising God,
Singing, swaying, smiling,
Dancing towards the setting sun.
A new order reigns in Haiti then,
Love and peace…
Justice and prosperity prevail.

And I, dear Haiti, perhaps too feeble
To journey to your glory days,
Will continue to sit on my Cuban chair
And rock… and rest… and sleep at last.

dous granmoun – sweet elderly people Ayiti’m – my Haiti

Beloved Haiti

“Rachel weeping for her children, and would not be comforted, for they are no more.” (Mat. 2:28b)

Oh Haiti, your tears burn into my heart like fire,
Your mountains stand naked like your children,
Without hands, unable to hide their shame.

Yet, despite orange hair and swollen bellies,
Despite hunger and hardship,
Their beauty cannot be hidden.

Oh mother Haiti, although your tired breasts are dry of milk,
They overflow with endurance and hope.

Your children die of hunger, sweet mother,
Yet you have fed them well,
On a diet of courage and strength.

Oh Haiti, land enslaved by misery,
Land of tears and smiles,
Land of sorrows and eternal hope.

I will not forget you, Haiti,
Beloved Haiti.

I Thought of Jesus (Part 3 of 3)

PART THREE

Early on Wednesday morning we took off in our bus for Cite Soleil (City of the Sun), a place that experiences horrendous poverty that has often manifested itself in violence and unrest. This gigantic seaside slum is home to almost 400,000 inhabitants of Port au Prince.

The first place we visited there is truly a beautiful oasis amidst the ugliness of extreme need. Margherite Nassau includes so many aspects of support for this impoverished community that it’s difficult to remember them all. Once you enter the gates of this holy place, it’s as if you have accidentally stepped through a time portal to a different place. The buildings are clean and freshly painted, the gardens are manicured, the teachers have their students under control, the children are uniformed and impeccably groomed – order and discipline in the midst of chaos.

But the school is just the beginning. Their immaculately clean kitchens prepare a cooked lunch for the hundreds of children here, for some, possibly the only hot meal of the day. This complex also houses a nutritional center for severely malnourished children and a large free clinic.

Behind the school there are rooms for skills training. Here, the mothers of the children attending the school and those whose children are in the nutritional center are taught how to sew the uniforms that their children will wear. Their sewing skills are honed in this room and so the mothers end up with a skill that will allow them to earn an income in the future. In another room, other mothers are taught how to embroider items that end up being sold to visitors at a little retail area there – tablecloths, napkins, shirts, greeting cards, and more, all beautifully embroidered by these talented mothers.

These Sisters of Charity of St. Vincent de Paul truly impressed me. Their age (some of the more mature ones had been there for more than 30 years) and distance from home (Spain, Brazil, Puerto Rico) have never dampened their enthusiasm for the mission.

They have recently hired a teacher to educate the mothers who are in the skills training room. Their rational being that they will learn a skill faster and more efficiently the higher the level of education they attain and, at home, it will be a boost for the children to have at least one parent who has broken the chains of illiteracy.

We saw a teacher outdoors, teaching the kids P.E., and we were exhausted just observing his great energy. The kids??? They were having a ball!!

From here we drove to the heart of the poverty of Cite Soleil. Here we have a feeding center that provides 5-7,000 people their only meal of the day. These are indeed the poorest of the poor – the least of His brothers and sisters. The faces of those in line to receive their servings of rice and beans betrayed the battering their lives had received from multi-generational poverty.

They would soon return to their shacks to share this modest meal with their loved ones – tiny structures of all-zinc with no ventilation other than the hole at the front where a door should have been. In the mid-day sun they swelter and sweat in what always gives me the impression of being a slow-cook roaster. The humidity from the often-muddy floors makes it difficult to breathe in there, particularly since the limited area is also shared with chickens and other animals. A family was kind enough to allow us to visit inside one of these – they would soon be receiving an FFP home.

Food For The Poor is building many houses there. We visited some of these. What a difference! Raised cement floors, concrete-block construction, corrugated metal roofs with hurricane straps, windows and doors… But the difference isn’t just one of construction, the amazing difference is the one that we so clearly saw in the people – more relaxed, easier smiles, their faces, particularly their eyes, spoke of reduced pain.

We walked through the winding back alleys of Cite Soleil, visited our school at Ti Haiti, saw the now-infamous clay cookies being sold and bought some for the speakers. Again, wherever we went, the desperate crowds seeking relief from their suffering surrounded Madame Pun. Again, I thought of Jesus. Back on the bus, one of the priests asked her if she ever got tired of this. “I wish I had a magic wand…” she replied, “but you can’t blame them… we are their only hope.”

I Thought of Jesus (Part 2 of 3)

PART TWO

Our afternoon began with a visit to our boy’s orphanage and school, Foyer de l’Espoir (House of Hope). This was the site of the soccer game between our boys from this home and the “visiting team” from Lynn University that had accompanied me on my last trip. Our boys beat them 6 – 4 and great was their jubilation!

At one point of our visit, the speakers were asked to sit in a shaded area under a large tree and the boys all gathered in front of them (Vicki and I sat to the side). They began to sing some hymns for them and they ended up raising their arms and blessing them. But the experience was far from over, he boys then proceeded to walk towards the speakers and place both their hands on their heads and bless them again, this time more personally, and pray for them. What a beautiful gesture… to bless and pray for those whose very calling is to bless and pray for others.

Suddenly, I saw a young man (not more than 10) walking towards me and, without giggling or losing concentration, he placed both his hands on my head and prayed fervently for me for 3-4 minutes. I wondered if the young man understood why the tears were rolling down my face as he so flawlessly performed this moving sharing. Hundreds, if not thousands of times, I have received the blessings of family, priests, bishops, cardinals and even popes, but none before humbled me or moved me to the extent realized by the blessing from this young and holy orphan. Wow…

But his was not the only occasion in which I would be humbled on this day. We walked next door to the FFP Home for the Elderly immediately afterwards and there, the hundreds of elderly who were once homeless on the streets of the capital welcomed us with warmth and love. Although most are well into their seventies and eighties and even more, they do not believe in just sitting there for a quiet visit. They already had their band (made up of staff members) playing some lively hymns and other music, and as soon as they saw us, they invited us to join them in the dance.

A lady, at least in her late seventies, by a process of geographical proximity, became my dance partner. We danced for what seemed to be a very long time, with my partner becoming more spirited (and more possessive) as I attempted to keep up with her “moves.” Finally, exhausted and drenched in sweat, I stumbled into one of the nearby chairs, as my partner quickly sought my replacement and continued to dance until our departure – half an hour later. Humbled and shamed by a lady at least 20 years my senior!

On the way home, we stopped for a quick visit to the Roman Catholic cathedral in the heart of downtown. Like the elderly whom we had just left, the old cathedral showed many signs of disrepair without losing its beauty, and, like the people of Haiti, it endures.
Archbishop Miot received the group at his residence across the street. He graciously answered the many questions of our speakers. The simplicity of his living conditions and the total absence of lavishness portrayed a deep understanding of and respect for the extreme need of his people.
That night, at the hotel, we had the first reflection meeting, where we discussed what we had seen, what had moved us, what had troubled us, and many insights that we had received during this first day.

I Thought of Jesus (Part 1 of 3)

On Tuesday, May 6th, a group of 19 of us – priests, pastors, deacons, the director of Speakers’ Bureau (Vicki Kaufman) and myself – departed from Fort Lauderdale to Port au Prince, Haiti. The humid heat, the “welcome” music, the crowds offering taxis and to carry our small pieces of luggage and the musicians in the parking lot were all happy reminders that we had arrived. Madame Pun, FFP’s Executive Director there, and Yvon, our highly skilled driver, were there to meet and greet us.

PART ONE

We went directly from the airport to our offices and distribution center. Here, we also operate the only free clinic in a very highly populated area of the city. We were introduced to some of the dedicated doctors and nurses who tend to so many on a daily basis. We also saw the many mothers there who brought their sick babies to be treated. I wondered what would become of those children if the medical care that we offered was not freely available.

I was happy to see that at the clinic they were distributing 2 very nutritional products for the children, many of whom were malnourished: The first was “Pampy-nut” – a paste with a peanut butter base that contains many of the essential nutrients for children; the second was “Akamil” – a meal of grains that makes a nutritious porridge. This last product was actually developed by one of our employees in our Haiti office.

From there we went next door to our own feeding center that supplies a solid hot meal (possibly the only one of the day), 6 days a week, to over 15,000 people in the area. As we entered, we saw a group of people preparing the vegetables for the next day’s meal (two mountains of spinach and egg plants) and I was thrilled to learn that the veggies for the daily meals are grown by our farming project at Santo.

Fr. Dave Delich and myself (adventurers by nature) decided that we wanted to have some of the lunch being served at the feeding center. The kitchen staff was so excited that we wanted to sample their wares! They ran happily to get us plates and utensils, and proudly served us some of the rice and the stew.

I marveled that they managed to cook 2,400 lbs. of rice in gigantic pots and it still came out loose. The stew, which was made with spinach and green beans, contained a base of some inexpensive protein (like pigs feet or chicken backs) and was well seasoned and tasty. I was happy that the staff took pride in their cooking, which added the ingredient of dignity to the meal.

When I stepped outside to the courtyard that is a second waiting area for the crowds that are standing in line to be served, I saw a lot of sadness in the faces there. Yet, there were 2 women who were so happy to see us! They approached us singing welcome songs and clapping their hands, with smiles that were truly contagious. I spoke to some of the people leaving the area with their plastic buckets or metal pots filled with food for their family, and that is when I saw her…

She was a young girl, pre-teen or early teens, and her poverty was more extreme than the others. The only thing she had to carry the food home for her large family was a plastic bag. I saw her struggling with the weight, as she was only using her left hand, with minimal support from her right. As she approached me, I realized that her right hand was incapacitated (I thought about Jesus and the man with the withered hand), and I observed that the entire arm was badly burned.

I engaged her in conversation, and found out that she had attempted to fill a kerosene lamp while it was still lit. The lamp exploded. A woman behind her showed me that it wasn’t only her arm, but her entire right side of her body was badly burned and scarred, right down to her legs. As I spoke to her I continuously caressed her right arm, as if to assure her that I was not repulsed… that she was not repugnant. I again thought of Jesus, and how he always saw the internal beauty in others and made them see the beauty in themselves. I hoped that, in some small measure, I had succeeded in doing this for her.

I grabbed her bag of food to help her and walked towards the exit. When I didn’t see her coming I looked back and saw a terrified look on her face – she thought that I was taking her food away. I pondered on how unaccustomed she must be to being helped and, between hand gestures and my bad Creole, I got the message across that I was just helping her lift it to the exit. When I got there with her, I gave her the bag and we said goodbye. She was totally unaware of how deeply she had touched my heart. 11 – 12 years old… tough life.

As the door opened to let her out, I caught a glimpse of the multitude of people waiting outside to be let in to this serving area. A guard has to stand there by the door for crowd control. I thought of the multitude of people standing out there, pasted on to one another, sweating, day after day, in the sun and heat, with that look of “quite desperation” on their faces… tough life.

As I turned back into the courtyard area, I saw Madame Pun, surrounded by the destitute, making their troubles and petitions known to her. She looked each one in the eye, attentively, sympathetically, patiently. They call her “Manmi Pun,” and indeed she has been a mother to so many. I again thought of Jesus, and how hard it must have been for Him to be constantly accosted with crowds in great need. I remembered the woman with the hemorrhage who touched His garment and he commented, “I felt the power come out of me.”

We then visited the Distribution Center, and it was a pleasure to see and feel the energy of the hustle and bustle in that place - containers being unloaded, trucks being loaded. Help going out to the poor - nothing stationary - everything dynamic. I feel energized!

We all went to the lunchroom for a delicious meal (my second lunch! :o) and I marveled at how much I had already experienced emotionally in just one morning.

The Rio Baqui Tilapia Project

For some years now, Food For The Poor donors have been funding tilapia projects of all different types and sizes in may of our countries. The tilapia is a hardy fish that matures quickly at a small cost and it has become very popular in the US and the world. For our purposes, it supplies the much needed life-saving protein that is often times lacking in the diets of the destitute (protein deficiency is largely responsible for the orange colored hair and distended bellies of the children who live in extreme poverty) while at the same time supplying a steady income to the families involved in the project. Our loyal friends from ICDF (Taiwan) are our partners in these ventures. They supply much appreciated technological expertise in all aspects of these initiatives. They also oversee the maintenance of these projects to ensure their longevity.
In a recent trip to the Dominican Republic, I visited the Most Reverend Julio Cesar Corniel, Bishop of Puerto Plata (and a wonderfully warm man), in order to inaugurate our largest tilapia project to date. It was truly an auspicious occasion, where NGOs, church, local and foreign governments and individuals came together to celebrate this truly magnificent project - the Rio Baqui Tilapia Project. It was a multi-faceted endeavor, for besides the tilapia ponds, Food For The Poor had constructed homes, completed a large water project, brought in electricity to the area and built a large community/skills training center.

During the ceremony, Bishop Corniel expressed his plans to have this project be of support to many other self-sustainable initiatives in many of the surrounding communities, as he commented that there was still much work to be done. As if to prove his point, a spokesperson for another neighboring community spoke and expressed her joy that the citizens of that area would now have clean water to drink. At the same time, she held up a 20oz. plastic bottle that once contained Coca-Cola for all to see. I looked and saw a liquid in it that was light brown, contaminated, filled with pieces of dirt, leaves and debris. She said, “This is the water that our people are forced to use to bathe, wash our clothes and cook. This is the water that we are forced to drink and to give to our children to drink.” The bishop was correct – we have much work to be done.

I have always wondered what Jesus meant when he said, “…if you have faith in me, you will do the same things that I am doing. You will do even greater things, now that I am going back to the Father.” (John 14:12) This project helped me to better understand His words. In the well-known feeding miracles of the New Testament, Jesus feeds 5,000 and 4,000 of his followers on separate occasions - miracles that have achieved a high degree of fame. At Rio Baqui, we have 29 large ponds that are each capable of producing 7,500 adult fish (of approx. 1 lb. weight) every 4 – 6 months. If you do the math, we are talking about a possibility of more than half a million fish per year. Here we have the miracle of the 500,000!!! This modern-day miracle does have much similarity to those performed by Jesus two centuries ago: Jesus gave thanks to the Father and blessed the food. Likewise we give thanks to God realizing that without His blessings and grace none of this would be possible. The donors, Food For The Poor, the church, other organizations, the missionaries and the poor, all come together in order to fulfill His will. God continues to perform great miracles through His people!

Buying Container Loads of Musical Instruments

For some time now, Food for the Poor, through the generosity of its donors, has been buying container-loads of musical instruments and sending them to the poorest areas of our countries, to schools and communities, hoping that the young people who receive them will choose a musical instrument over a knife or gun. The program has been successful beyond our expectations. On a visit to Cite Soleil, in Haiti, considered one of the most dangerous slums of the Western Hemisphere, a newly formed musical group, proudly brandishing their recently acquired instruments, played for us the most soulful rendition of the Star Spangled Banner that I had ever heard. It’s ironic that my most emotional response to our national anthem happened in the worst slum of the Caribbean. Amazingly, they had received those instruments only a few months before. Music victorious over violence; the sound of music conquering the blast of gunfire!

In my most recent trip to Nicaragua, we were welcomed at one of our Angels of Hope orphanages by a marching band of boys and girls from a nearby high school. It was amazing to look at the faces of the young people as they played their horns and drums. There was the fire and energy of passion in their eyes and great joy in their faces and smiles. The entire group that traveled with us felt truly welcomed!

Some weeks ago I traveled to Honduras and landed in the beautiful city of San Pedro Sula. My very first visit was my very favorite of the entire trip. We had sent a variety of instruments to this city and a talented musician and teacher called “Fonchin” (don’t ask – we Hispanics have a strange relationship with nicknames!) decided that he was going to use a number of these instruments and begin a music school for underprivileged kids. Anyone who knows of my love of the arts would realize how thrilled I would be with this type of project; particularly since that evening they were performing their first public concert in my honor. I felt like royalty!

Considering that we had sent them the musical instruments only 3 months before my visit, I was expecting to hear a few scales and at best some simple songs that could be performed with a few chords. Instead, they played Bach, Tchaikovsky, Brahms, Beethoven… I was stunned! Did they make mistakes? Many. Did they detract from the joy of listening to them? Not at all. There were solos, duets, trios and quarters that showcased the shining stars of their talent and the errors here were almost eliminated. Yet, my greatest joy was listening to the songs of the entire ensemble and seeing the look of pride and joy in their faces as they made every effort to entertain their appreciative audience. But that wasn’t all, immediately after the concert was over, the kids went directly back into the practice rooms and started practicing their respective instruments. Talk about devotion to their art! We are sending them some violins and kettledrums soon, as a complement to their existing instruments. These were kids that may never have had the opportunity to hold a musical instrument in their hands – and now they were music lovers and musicians!!!

There was something that truly saddened me, though. Before the concert, I was taken on a tour of the facility. The building is large, the walls are solid, but unfortunately the roof is severely damaged which caused many of the rooms on one side of the building to be flooded from the previous day’s rain. But that wasn’t the worst of it. The roof was made of materials containing asbestos. If it were in the U.S., the building would have been condemned, but in San Pedro, they had no other choice. I promised them that as soon as they sent us a project proposal for the replacement of the roof we would try to get one or more of our caring donors to save those beautiful children from that dangerous hazard. I have faith that it won’t be long…