-from my journal three years ago
Saturday, July 31, 2004
Arrived in Nicaragua this afternoon and made it through customs without issue. A torrential downpour welcomed us on our first night. I have never seen so much water flowing down the streets. We went directly to Casa Bernabe to meet the kids. Absolutely overwhelmed! The others who have been here before were looking for specific people and were greeted with huge hugs, "Que paso, amigo?", and joyful reunions. But as a complete stranger to these kids, I received the same greeting. This just doesn't make sense to me. The language barrier I was so worried about just melted away.
So tired...
Wednesday, August 4, 2004
Yesterday...huge day...too much to even write about last night. Need more time to process everything. Took a walk into Vera Cruz and came back for breakfast - eggs with black beans and rice. Then back to our work projects, for us it was yardwork with the kids. For others it was more weeding and transplanting in the papaya fields. We visited a special needs orphanage yesterday called Bluebird. We were prepared ahead of time for what we would see and experience. We walked into the first room, kind of an entryway and turned left to look into an open room with bars from ceiling to floor. In a creepy way it reminded me of an American zoo in very poor condition. There were children held in these rooms that were seriously emotionally distrubed and we passed suckers through the bars to open hands and smiling faces. The smell of urine in the baby room was overwhelming. But somehow we ended up playing baseball in the courtyard with some of the older kids who had lesser mental difficulties or physical limitations. My job was to yell "uno, dos, tres" to the pitcher before he would pitch. If I didnt count, he wouldn't pitch. There are not words in the English language to communicate how hard it was to leave and how broken my heart was for these forgotten children. It was hard.
Next, it was to the Nueva Vida Refugee Camp where people are still living since being displaced by Hurricane Mitch in 1997. Rows and rows of shanty houses of cinder blocks and cardboard.
Although, the trip went on for another three days and I did not return home until August 7, my journal ended there. It was too much, too fast and I could not begin to even put the experience into words.
Right smack dab in the middle of my almost empty journal were these questions. Questions I don't even remember writing:
- Why would God show you such horrific things, allow you to meet such amazing souls, knowing that you can not solve their problems?
- What am I going to do about all that I have been exposed to?
- Do you work to better the adoption laws in Nicaragua? Or better their situations here in at the orphanage?
- How do I even go back home and explain this experience to my family? My friends?
- What the heck is my purpose in all of this?
So, not armed with much more than these questions, I am looking forward to being back there in 5 days.