Some of you may have heard a smattering on the news a couple months back about some kids in the capital that died in a fire. They were young boys that were given to a teacher so they could learn the Qu'ran. It was devasting and caused a quite a stir in our country, but as quickly as it happened it was forgotten. People moved on with their lives and the uproar was quelched in many hearts.
I have not forgotten. I can't forget because everyday I am surrounded by these boys, normal kids, some of whom were taken from their homes, sold or kidnapped to be in service of these "teachers". There is a constant internal battle in my heart about how to help, if I can help and what difference any of it would make. One of our biggest struggles is not being the white person who hands out money to solve the problem, who doesn't actual care, who doesn't take into consideration the culture, who just makes things worse. It's easy to say that things other cultures practice are wrong and it's even easier to throw money at the problem in hopes that it will go away. Like I said, every day when I see these boys begging on the street for money for their teacher, for food for their teacher or even food for themselves, my heart breaks into pieces. If I could, I would adopt every one of them. I seriously would.
Enter "Harold"
Harold says that he is 14 although he looks more like 10. He doesn't know where his village is or the name of it. He simply knows that it's near the country to the south. He is quiet but when he speaks his voice is hoarse like that of a smoker. He's skinny. He has THE best smile! He's respectful. And he calls B his dad.
B met him in the market one day with all his fellow "friends", i.e. the boys that he "learns" with and begs with, and B bought some fruit, peeled it (so they are forced to eat it) and gave it to them all. And that simple act was enough to make Harold seek B out. The second time we saw Harold I was with B and again we bought some fruit, peeled it and gave it to him. But this time he asked us questions, which doesn't really happen. Where are you from? How long have you been here? Do you have any kids? Will you be my parents?....wait what? Excuse me?? Did he just say that?? Instantly my heart crumbled and I'm pretty sure I cried on the way home.
We didn't see Harold for a couple months because we were busy, but when he found us again he came running with a huge beautiful smile and said "I thought you left me." Again...crumbled. So B invited him and his friends over for lunch. Now I have to admit that I was a little nervous because these kids travel in packs! Usually there are anywhere from 3-10 kids all begging together so we weren't sure what to expect for lunch. But at 1pm there was a knock on our door and there stood Harold. All by his lonesome. We asked where his friends were and he just shrugged, came in, washed and ate. We prayed with him, for him and thanked God for the opportunity to show love to Harold. We told him to come back every week at a certain time and we'd have lunch for him and whoever he wanted to bring. "Thanks Dad and Mom" was all he said and then he left. He's come back every week by himself for lunch. We think that he just wants the time to himself. Last week B shared with him some Bible stories when Harold asked what we did here. Techinically this is illegal so B kept it brief. We tell him that we do this because Jesus loves him, because God commands us to love others. Each time he stays a little bit longer, plays with our dogs and just talks. And every time before he leaves he says "Thanks Dad and Mom."
This is our small way of showing these boys that God loves him. I know it's only one boy, but this one boy has a full belly once a week, gets a hug and a smile and gets some love. We keep telling Harold to bring some friends, so we'll see if he ever does. I pray for these boys and their families. I pray that somehow the laws here will change, that people will recognize the plight of these boys, that somehow God break through into this darkness and that these boys will somehow have the chance feel our Father's love.
If you'd like to know more about these boys, check out this link here or here or feel free to message me with questions.
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I have not forgotten. I can't forget because everyday I am surrounded by these boys, normal kids, some of whom were taken from their homes, sold or kidnapped to be in service of these "teachers". There is a constant internal battle in my heart about how to help, if I can help and what difference any of it would make. One of our biggest struggles is not being the white person who hands out money to solve the problem, who doesn't actual care, who doesn't take into consideration the culture, who just makes things worse. It's easy to say that things other cultures practice are wrong and it's even easier to throw money at the problem in hopes that it will go away. Like I said, every day when I see these boys begging on the street for money for their teacher, for food for their teacher or even food for themselves, my heart breaks into pieces. If I could, I would adopt every one of them. I seriously would.
Enter "Harold"
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| How could you not love this face?! |
Harold says that he is 14 although he looks more like 10. He doesn't know where his village is or the name of it. He simply knows that it's near the country to the south. He is quiet but when he speaks his voice is hoarse like that of a smoker. He's skinny. He has THE best smile! He's respectful. And he calls B his dad.
B met him in the market one day with all his fellow "friends", i.e. the boys that he "learns" with and begs with, and B bought some fruit, peeled it (so they are forced to eat it) and gave it to them all. And that simple act was enough to make Harold seek B out. The second time we saw Harold I was with B and again we bought some fruit, peeled it and gave it to him. But this time he asked us questions, which doesn't really happen. Where are you from? How long have you been here? Do you have any kids? Will you be my parents?....wait what? Excuse me?? Did he just say that?? Instantly my heart crumbled and I'm pretty sure I cried on the way home.
We didn't see Harold for a couple months because we were busy, but when he found us again he came running with a huge beautiful smile and said "I thought you left me." Again...crumbled. So B invited him and his friends over for lunch. Now I have to admit that I was a little nervous because these kids travel in packs! Usually there are anywhere from 3-10 kids all begging together so we weren't sure what to expect for lunch. But at 1pm there was a knock on our door and there stood Harold. All by his lonesome. We asked where his friends were and he just shrugged, came in, washed and ate. We prayed with him, for him and thanked God for the opportunity to show love to Harold. We told him to come back every week at a certain time and we'd have lunch for him and whoever he wanted to bring. "Thanks Dad and Mom" was all he said and then he left. He's come back every week by himself for lunch. We think that he just wants the time to himself. Last week B shared with him some Bible stories when Harold asked what we did here. Techinically this is illegal so B kept it brief. We tell him that we do this because Jesus loves him, because God commands us to love others. Each time he stays a little bit longer, plays with our dogs and just talks. And every time before he leaves he says "Thanks Dad and Mom."
This is our small way of showing these boys that God loves him. I know it's only one boy, but this one boy has a full belly once a week, gets a hug and a smile and gets some love. We keep telling Harold to bring some friends, so we'll see if he ever does. I pray for these boys and their families. I pray that somehow the laws here will change, that people will recognize the plight of these boys, that somehow God break through into this darkness and that these boys will somehow have the chance feel our Father's love.
If you'd like to know more about these boys, check out this link here or here or feel free to message me with questions.
