Hard Day

“I almost killed a child today,” I thought to myself last Wednesday night. It had started as a normal Wednesday afternoon, and I was doing my “good deed” of volunteering at the orphanage in Hengyang. Since last semester, I have been volunteering on the government side of the center where the conditions are wanting. The mortality rate in the room where we work is still relatively high and many of the babies that come in, don’t make it out alive.

For the older physically able kids in this room, they find ways to sustain their bodies. They steal food from the care-takers, eat random things off the floor, steal bottles of milk meant for the babies, and even pry food out of weaker children’s mouths. For these weak children with handicapped bodies, they often go hungry. Lest this sounds too bleak, let me add that conditions have improved significantly in this room. Now, the foreign workers (at least one foreign worker a day from a non-profit organization) will bring the kids a morning snack of fruit and an afternoon snack of milk.

This past week, I went by myself to the orphanage as my team-mate was busy. An Australian couple (auntie and uncle) from the non-profit organization also came that day to say their good-byes to the kids and the care-takers. They brought 2 Chinese cakes. One for the care-takers and one for the kids. Before the cake was even properly cut, a sneaky boy had slipped into the room and reached from behind to put his hand directly into the cake and make off with a hand-full of fruit and icing. In the process, the Australian uncle accidentally sliced his hand with the knife and the cake was disheveled. From the beginning, I realized that bringing cake to hungry children is a stressful ordeal.

Finally, all the cake was cut and we were administering pieces of cake to the weaker kids while the strong ones finished theirs and then tried to steal cake from the rest of us. It was stressful to say the least. I was feeding three weaker boys with a spoon. I tried to divide up the fruit pieces, cake, and frosting evenly alternating between the three boys. It was at that moment that two things happened. 1. The sneaky boy again had success making off with a hand-full of cake from my bowl. 2. One boy that I was feeding had a pained look on his face and was sucking in air through his bottom teeth. “Is he choking?” the Australian auntie asked me. His mouth remained strained and he had the look of fear in his eyes. The Chinese care-taker, seeing the problem, reached for him and with one motion grabbed his feet and turned him upside down giving him several good shakes. Having taken First Aid, I knew there was probably a better way to dislodge food. I asked if I could try. I couldn’t remember what to do for children when giving the Heimlich maneuver, but I remembered clearly how to give the Heimlich to adults. I held his slight frame between my arms and found the place underneath his breastbone. I gave him 3 good pumps. Nothing happened.

“Take him to the doctor on the first floor” said the Australian auntie. I rushed with the Chinese care-taker and the little boy to the first floor. The doctor and nurse turned the boy on his stomach at a steep incline and hit his back with downward strokes. This went on for what seemed like 10 minutes, but was probably more like 2 minutes. The boy was still not breathing normally. Thankfully though, he still had a little sound through his mouth and was getting some air in through his pipe as he had not turned blue.

Finally, the doctor and nurse could see this method was not working. They started up a kind of machine that has a long, thin suction tube. They weaved the tube down the little boy’s throat. His eyes got big like he was about to gag as the tube went down. Finally, the piece of fruit popped up and the boy heaved a big gasp of air. The awful, little round, whole piece of melon sat mockingly on the floor.

“You gave him this big piece of fruit?” the doctor and nurse said to the care-taker with an air of accusation.

“It was me. I wasn’t careful. It was my wrong.” I say quickly and with down-cast eyes. After putting this boy through hell and back, it’s the least I can do to take the blame for my own carelessness.

“The kids can’t eat that big of bites” they tell me. I know. Now, I know. Before leaving the room, I look down at the piece of fruit one more time in utter disgust.

And I can still see it now, this round piece of melon lying hauntingly on the floor of the doctor’s office. Why didn’t this little boy know enough to chew this piece of fruit? It’s fruit; it’s not a Lego. He’s 5 or 6 six years old. His mental abilities are fine; he can even talk in comprehensible words unlike some of the other, more aggressive children. And here’s where I get stuck in questions and accusations stemming from this incident aimed both at myself and at a broken system. What is the quality of life for children who are so used to being hungry that they won’t even take the time to masticate their food if it means it might get pried out of their mouth from undisciplined bullies or they’ll miss the next round of feeding.

In this place, I feel utterly hopeless; I see darkness and difficulty. I don't know if going there one time a week for a couple of hours can really change anything. I want to believe, I want to have hope. I don't want to let the bad experience scar me from ever trying again.

Thoughts on orphans (part 2)

A couple of weeks ago, I wrote about a girl at the orphanage center named Lulu. (see post Thoughts on Orphans) Recently God has changed my heart towards her. Instead of seeing her as the antithesis at the center, I see her as the person who needs the most love. Instead of waiting for her to need attention and seek it in negative ways, we try to lavish on her positive attention.

One of the main ways to give her attention is to dance with her. She loves to dance, and she loves to dance with a partner. Lucky for her, I also love to dance and sing, so I’m more than happy to accompany her. Most of the time, we dance in the room that has all the toddler like kids, (who are actually 4 or 5 years old) sitting in red, car-seat like chairs propped against the wall. We dance back and forth in front of them. I usually sing one of the two or three songs I know in Chinese, and then I revert to “I could have danced all night” and Fiddler on the Roof’s “Sunrise, Sunset.”

Lulu still lashes out, and I’m personally still a bit scared of her when she does especially after my friend showed me the purple bite mark that Lu lu left on her. But, it also seems like Lulu is able to respond to discipline. My friend will stand with her against the wall in a kind of “time-out.” This is the only discipline though that Lu Lu seems to get though since the Chinese carers have said that Lulu is beyond control and if she wants something they simply have to give it to her or she will lose her temper and start beating up the other kids.

In their eyes, there is no point to discipline her as it only sets her off and makes their job of caring for her more difficult. But in a way, the failure to discipline Lulu is also a visible mark of the failure to love her. I heard a message by Matt Chandler who had this to say about discipline: “Discipline does not ensure love, but love necessarily produces discipline.” And his words are consistent with what the writer of Hebrews tell us about discipline: “No discipline seems pleasant at the time, but painful. Later on, however, it produces a harvest of righteousness and peace for those who have been trained by it” (Hebrews 12:11). The lack of discipline in this child, in these childrens' lives, is creating a dark and difficult road for their future. Oh that I would have the courage to love to the extent of disciplining in the face of rage and sharp teeth.

1 boy

The boy with the sad eyes,
his head radiating heat,
his cheeks pink with a slight fever
was left here yesterday.
Today he does not want to eat.
"His parents said he often gets sick."
"He doesn't understand stuff."
say the care-takers
explaining away his significance.

His limp, soft body in my arms
His sad eyes turn upward
and speak and beg
"Where are my parents?"
"Please take me home now."

Thoughts on orphans

This semester, I have been going more regularly to the welfare center in Hengyang. The center is divided into two parts. One side is run by the Chinese government. On the other side, the Chinese government has agreed to allow a non-profit group based out of the UK come in and take over operations of this part of the center. The 2 sides are noticeably different. Previously, I had never volunteered at the government side until this semester. Since starting to volunteer on the government side, I have seen some really difficult things that I don't really know how to process. I wish I could show you so you too could look into their sad eyes, see their weak little bodies, and help me know how to be a light in this place.

The other day, I took a Chinese sister with me into the room to help feed the kids and play with them. When we left, she looked pretty gloomy and asked quietly, “Why would God allow people to remain in conditions like that?” To this question, I also don’t know. I stumbled around for some deep theological answer about suffering and pain in the world. “It’s a result of sin in this world. Because of sin, disease and defects enter the world. Because of sin, we have the natural disasters that wipe out entire villages and islands.” As the words were leaving my mouth, they tasted sour, and I also felt dissatisfied with this answer. I still wrestle with how a God who provides for the widow and the orphans seems to be overlooking whole orphanage rooms around the world. I feel a little bit hopeless for these kids.

But I also know that despite the fact that most of these kids have been abandoned, they do know love in that they know how to show it. The other day when I went in to visit, one mentally alert girl with cerebral palsy gave me a huge grin and with crippled arms reached out to pull me in for a hug. And then, she carefully turned my head and gave me a kiss on the ear. I think my eyes might have been as bright as Christmas lights to receive a kiss from this sweet girl who spends most of her time sitting on a wood board or the toilet chair.

Only a few feet away from this lovely girl roams another child whom I find more difficult to love. This girl, Lulu, unlike all the other kids in the room has a strong and healthy body. But she also suffers from autism. If you were to visit, you might see Lulu walking around the different rooms holding a bag of big lego blocks or softly moaning (crying) when she wants something and doesn’t get it. This is Lulu on a good day. But when Lulu doesn’t get enough attention or gets bored, or who knows why, she will hurt the other kids (many of whom cannot use their arms or legs) by pushing over the little car-seat like chairs where these kids sit for the entire day. It’s a little too terrible to recount exactly here, but you can imagine what kind of injury these little weak kids incur on behalf of Lulu’s tantrums. After one of these incidents the other day, I held Lulu’s arms and told her that we loved her but that she couldn’t do that to the other kids. She screamed and bit her wrist. I held on tighter to her arms to prevent her from biting. While I was holding her arms, I looked directly into her eyes and was met with something very strange. A challenge of the spirits if you will.

As you’re reading this, you might be wondering where the people are who take care of these kids. They are also in the room, usually about 2 or 3 of them. They are responsible for 20 kids whom they stay with the entire month, day and night, except for a 2 day rest once every month. Needless to say, they do not have enough man power or emotional energy to spend on disciplining kids like Lulu or nurturing the other kids. So, most of the time, you might find the care-takers sitting off away from the kids making knitting house shoes. It might be easy to judge these care-takers, but I wonder if I would even be sane anymore if I had to work as long of hours as they do and see as much heart ache as they have. These observations have just been the initial ones. There are many more things to express and to process, but it’s hard to get them all digested for obvious reasons. Thoughts?