Standing In the Shadow of the Cross

At a moment in the prayer service this morning, trying to avoid the sun in my eyes by standing in the shadow of the cross on the front of our building, I suddenly felt the urge to write this prayer, which I completed in within the time of a song that was being played there. I used the blank back of the program distributed that morning to write it. It just flowed right out, without pause.

Standing In the Shadow of the Cross
I am standing here, Lord, in the shadow of your cross.
I could not look upon you, Lord,
Were it not for that painful yet beautiful sacrifice.
But standing in its shadow, Lord,
I can look up at your light that would blind me
Were it not for the protection of your cross.
The brilliance of your light comforts me,
Warms me, illuminates me
And lightens my burdens.
Your light explodes
Behind the shadow of your cross, Lord,
To prove that you are indeed the Master of Death,
The giver of life, the provider of peace,
And the sole source of true and everlasting joy.
Amen.

Honduras: The agony and the ecstasy

I recently returned from another inspirational trip to Honduras. It is always good to visit with Linda Coello, her blood relatives and her extended family that comprise the organization of which she is president – CEPUDO. They are the people who do a great job of distributing the goods that we send for that country and who are our partners in projects that include the building of houses and water wells for the poor. Together with our excellent partners from the ICDF (Taiwan), CEPUDO manages the self-sustainable projects that we fund through the loving generosity of our donors. These projects include tilapia and shrimp farming, animal husbandry projects and agricultural projects.

Besides, my Taiwanese friend, Samuel, keeps me well supplied with a delicious Chinese treat pronounced “WAH – MAE” that I discovered in my years in Jamaica. It’s a dry salted plum that tastes a lot better than it sounds – and it’s very high roughage! :o)

Food For The Poor Honduras Tilapia Project.

Our first stop was in an area called Rio Lindo (Pretty River), in the neighborhood called El Borboton. Here the community had been giving a 20 acre piece of land and the government of the time had started to build cement ponds for the farming of fish. The funds ran out and the project was abandoned. The community waited and waited for help to continue the project, but the only thing they got was empty promises.

Along comes our caring donor and friend, Chris Cotter, and his generous contribution delivers the people from their 20-year bondage. Food For The Poor, in partnership with CEPUDO and ICDF (Taiwan), built two enormous ponds and filled the six existing cement ponds for the purpose of tilapia and shrimp farming. We inaugurated the project that day and we released 20,000 fingerlings into each of the new ponds. The fingerlings will mature in 4-6 months. I discovered that when the project is fully functional, it will produce 24,000 lbs. of fish every month! But that’s not all…

Chris also funded a third pond, connected to the two huge ones, which would serve as a catchment area for the water running off the fish ponds, containing the waste from the tilapia. This catchment pond would then feed a canal system that would in turn irrigate and fertilize a few acres of agricultural land that would be planted out with vegetables of different types. The men of the community would take care of the tilapia farming, while the women would be in charge of the agricultural part. We presented the women with a gas tiller and they were thrilled. They all looked so empowered.

You could cut the happiness with a knife - it was so palpable.

	Pig Poo Power: Swine waste used to power homes.

The second stop was in Comayagua, in the neighborhood called La Isla. Here we saw an amazing pig project also funded through the generosity of our donors. Ten families in this community were selected for this project and each of them had two cement pig-pens built in their back yards. They were each given 20 high quality piglets to raise for meat. When the pigs reached 200 pounds each, they would be sold. The family would then replace the 20 pigs sold with piglets, keep the profit, and start the business cycle again. Our partners from Taiwan took care of the training and the butchering. What a great transformation, coming from extreme poverty to become self-sustainable entrepreneurs.

There was another aspect from this project that truly appealed to my environmentalist side. I was shown, first hand, how the waste from the pens would be washed, three times per day, into two large plastic containers. These containers would be rigged with a plastic tube that led out of the containers and into the house. The captured pig feces would produce the gas methane, which would travel through the tube and into the little kitchen. Here it would be connected to a stove and to a lamp, and so the methane would allow them both to cook and to see at night. I was amazed. Nothing was wasted – not even the waste!

The mother of the household was kind enough to cook some tortillas on the griddle with the methane gas and to demonstrate the use of the lamp. She explained that at any time they have a supply of methane that can last them in excess of seven hours.

I left La Isla feeling so good about our work and so thankful that we have caring donors who really want to transform the lives of those whom they may never meet.

By far, our most emotional activity was the inauguration of 159 two bedroom homes in the municipality of Danli, in the area called San Marcos de Abajo in the department of El Paraiso. In August of 2010, a number of communities of that area that were located by the side of the river because of the easy proximity to water, were severely affected by a two hour flash flood that caused the river to rise and devastated the entire community, damaging many homes and completely sweeping away 159 houses, leaving a large number of people homeless and six families mourning the loss of life of their loved ones.

Food For The Poor gives flood victims new homes in Danli, Honduras.

The country responded with an unprecedented display of collaboration – the Honduran Red Cross responded to the devastation, while the firefighters, the police, the boy scouts, the church and many other agencies, organizations and individuals responded with kindness. The mayor of the city went all out in his efforts to help and the municipality donated land on a beautiful mountain in the area. Our donors again came to the rescue and raised the funds needed to build 80 two-bedroom homes. Fortunately, SOPTRAVI (an agency connected to the Ministry of Housing) matches the homes that we build one for one. We were then able to build the 159 homes needed to help ease the emotional trauma suffered by our brothers and sisters there.

I walked around talking to the families that would soon be enjoying their new homes and their stories were heartbreaking. One woman survived with her 3 children – one was blind and a paraplegic; the other was going blind and losing her ability to walk; the third did not have disabilities. Through her tears, she explained how they had all survived because of God’s unfailing grace. I met another family where the mother grabbed the two younger children and told the older daughter that she would have to do her best to fend for herself. She worried that she would never see her again and through tears explained that God had saved her older daughter, as she was lifted unto the back of a crowded pick- up truck as she was attempting to save herself.

The Vice President of Honduras attended the event. The mayor of Danli had us all in tears as he broke down emotionally himself when he addressed the crowds. The mayor of Tegucigalpa gave a warm tribute to the donors of Food For The Poor, without whom that inauguration would not have been possible – especially in less than one year since the disaster. I was moved and humbled by the poor, who displayed such patience, faith and strength. Also by our staff, by our partners, and particularly by our donors who never disappoint us in our greatest times of need.

We made another visit in an area a good hours drive out of Tegucigalpa. Here we met a dynamic Italian priest, Fr. Ferdinanado, who had served the poor for years in Africa and was now devoting his time and efforts in helping the destitute in Honduras. A strong devotee of Padre Pio, he credited what he had been able to accomplish there to his miraculous interventions. Single-handedly, he raised the money from family and friends in Italy for a magnificent hospital that he has built in an area where there are no medical services. He has designed it with huge hallways where he will put cots so that the family of those who are ill can stay close to their loved ones. Only one problem, the hospital was completely bare of furnishings. He asked for our help.

Again, one of our gifts-in-kind donors has come to the rescue and we will be sending him container loads of hospital room suites to properly furnish this magnificent structure that will do such good for the poor of that area. As you might imagine, Fr. Ferdinando is very happy!

After touring the hospital, he took us to meet some of the people of the nearby communities that he has helped with housing, a home for the aged, and a center for troubled youth. But he also wanted us to meet some of the ones that he had not been able to help.

He took us to the home of Antonio Alvarez, a good husband and father of eight. Antonio is a “segador” (a harvester or field hand), but he does not have steady employment. Every day he goes out to the fields looking for work, but most days he returns home feeling defeated as he is not able to find any. On the few days when someone gives him employment he earns less than a dollar an hour. The oldest daughter, Maria Ester, is sixteen and takes care of the 3 youngest siblings who are yet not of age to attend school – Onaida Jocelyn, Maria Guadalupe, and the baby, Leonidas Ferdinando (yes, named after their beloved priest!) We asked Antonio for the other kids, and he replied that two were running errands and the other two were playing with neighborhood friends.

Their adobe shack was truly wretched, but they made every effort to make it a home. I wondered how they could afford to send the oldest five to school, as on one of the walls they had end-of-year photos of all the kids. Antonio showed me that with pride. I looked up at the corners of the walls, near the roof, and was horrified to see huge termite mounds inside their tiny home. On the termite mounds there were a number of cockroaches crawling around.

We enquired after the mother. The father was hesitant to answer. When Antonio was out of earshot, Fr. Ferdinando asked Maria Ester to tell me the truth about her mother. This 16-year old, way too old for her age, explained sadly that her mother worked everyday, seven days a week, a double shift at a local restaurant bussing tables. She left home at 6:00 AM and returned at midnight, only to earn in a month of double shifts what a busboy here would earn in less than a week – but it was enough to send the oldest five to school. My heart broke for that poor woman, working 16-hour days without respite. My heart also broke for the husband, who looked so embarrassed that his wife was the breadwinner of the family, while he often was forced into the role of Mr. Mom. This family so deserves our help.

My last visit, the day we were returning home, was with Sadie Yvette Rivas and her mother, Sadie Janelle Ramirez. If you remember, Sadie Yvette was the little girl that was featured in our newsletter who had a tumor near her intestines that was making her malnourished and stunting her growth – at 3-years old, she was almost the same size as her 10-month old little brother. The doctors felt that she needed to have surgery, but the family did not have the $1200 needed for the operation to remove the tumor. Again, one of our wonderful donors comes to their rescue. Scott Montgomery was so touched by their story that he sent the check to cover the cost of the surgery.

When I saw the mother and daughter, they had good news for me. The tumor had completely dissolved (a miracle?) and Sadie Yvette had gained two pounds, which is a good amount for a little girl of her size. I asked them what was their greatest need, and they told me it was a home, but they did not own any land. Scott decided to use the money that was no longer required for the surgery to buy them a piece of land and he has also offered to donate the money for their home.

Needless to say, Sadie Janelle is so thrilled at the wonderful generosity of someone who loves her family without ever meeting them, and she prays daily for Scott’s health and happiness.

I will sign off here with this beautiful happy ending!

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.