Thursday, October 23, 2014

They don't call it trafficking...they call it tradition...

They don’t call it trafficking…

8 year old B was picked up on the side of the road the week we opened the doors at Chayah.  She is a tall, slender girl whose first photo showed a tangle of fear and anger.   




We trusted the story we heard, trusted the discernment of our house mom in determining her need. 

Three years later we understand much more of what God was doing and why.

B had been given away to a family member, an uncle, when she was old enough to be productive in the rice paddies.  She and other children spent their days in the mud and muck, where the rice grows side by side with bacteria, viruses, fungi and parasites. Malaria, tetanus, hookworm, etc… thrive in the water-logged crop.   

She recalls being most afraid of the birds though.  In defense, the young crew sang loudly; a tiny human scare -chorus, hands too busy to wave or swat away the feathered enemy.   Day in and day out…no schooling, poor nutrition, little nurturing…she was free labor…they don’t call it trafficking.

In 2012, she became one of ours and we have watched her grow physically, begin to trust, find friends and learn about Jesus, but like most of the children we care for, there has been a missing piece.  Our Uganda staff has been searching for B’s mother, not even sure she could be found, to ask questions, offer visitation, examine possibilities and offer a chance for mother and daughter to forge some sort of relationship.

This particular mother was located 6 hours away and calls were made to a connection in her mother’s village letting her know that her daughter was coming to see her.  On the chosen day, B and a Chayah sister travelled with Chayah’s house mom for the visit.  The long drive delivered a cautious girl to the home her mother occupied, but would not bring the anticipated reunion.  Neighbors reported that her mother was afraid the child was being returned and refused to take that chance.

Returning home, several more phone calls were made to arrange another meeting. Adding reassurances that the child would not be left, and clarifying one sole purpose of allowing mother and daughter to see each other and allow for some familiarity & understanding of B’s original family.  She was present when B arrived.

It was absent of the dramatic-romantic all-is-made-right kind of meeting.  It was awkward and quiet and stiff.  After wandering the area, meeting siblings born after she left the family and reconnecting with a sister just 2 years younger, B occupied herself with the other children and Janet sat with her mother asking the hard questions. The “why” questions about giving away her child and the “if” questions regarding whether she had any interest in bringing her daughter home for good.  

I don’t remember hearing whether there were tears accompanying the explanation or not.
I don’t remember if there was a reason given for why she gave the child away to be used as a muddy gardener. 

 I do know that her tone changed to desperate determination to keep B from ever coming home.  Four girls were fathered by the same man.  B is number 3 and at 11 years old, she is 2 years shy of an accepted tradition and practice that would marry her off at 13.  Their father is nowhere to be found and makes no attempt to care for the girls, but he is keenly aware of their ages and on or very near their 13th birthday he makes his way back to the family’s dung shack accompanied by several men.  

The men are taken inside and seated to wait, men who qualify not because of a commonality or promising devotion.  The adolescent child is told to put on a dress called a “Gomesi”, the traditional garment signifying womanhood.  Her father beckons her inside the home where she stands for examination by the attendants.  She leaves, negotiations ensue, and she is awarded to the one of her father’s choosing.  

This has been the case for two older sisters and will likely be the case for the youngest when four short years count off what is left of her childhood.  With pain and hopelessness, her mother states that there would be no preventing the matchmaking if B were to return home.  Threats to kill the auctioneer/father are empty and painfully inadequate to stop the sale of young girls, even in this family.  Uncles can step in and profit the same way if a father is unavailable to do so.  
My mind’s eye can picture B’s youngest sister, sitting close to the excitement a visitor would bring and overhearing the conversation.  My heart prays she is still too young to understand that her future is in the hands of a man who should protect her with his life, and his community, his culture, nods to his choice and his rights.

A trade…money for innocence…a man is as wealthy as his daughters can make him.  There is so much press, attention being given to human trafficking, sex trafficking and the immensity of its destruction and depravity.  But deep inside a continent rich in custom is this practice, this ritual.  A terrified child adorned in an oversized garment…a father lost to his greed…no press, no protest, no task force…

They don’t call it trafficking…they call it tradition.

Our girl seems good, not unaffected by the choices made for her past, but secure and hopeful about her future.  We pray for her processing of the visit and the invisible scars and messages that have been written on her heart.  We ask God to heal her and make a way for her younger sister.   

 He’s trustworthy with that request, a father to the fatherless and to those whose father has lost his way.  


Wednesday, August 20, 2014

...and...that's a wrap! Wednesday Aug 20th


Today after checking out of our hotel room we arrived at Chayah and got down to
the business of employee reviews.  All is well and everyone was happy to receive
a well deserved increase in their monthly salary...and we are blessed to be able
to encourage them that way.


 We talked a bit, Dann with John and me with the older girls.  Rashid received

the balance of the unused water balloons from yesterday and made quick use of
them.  9 yr old Maureen, was our photographer this morning and took these shots.

Photo by Moreen

Melissa and Edrine are in their final year of primary school so they have been
in classes everyday during the week from 7 to 4pm preparing for the final term
and their final primary exams.

Today though, they returned at about 1pm for lunch and then to spend our final
afternoon with everyone at the pool.  Dann and I no longer fit into the 7
passenger van with all of the kids and Janet, they've just out grown it so we
took Melissa and Olivia with us on bodas and stopped at three shops that had
shown interest in the t shirts they had made.   I was wearing mine, but I
encouraged them to each wear one as they were trying to sell them.  They came
out of the bathroom from changing with a customer in tow who'd complimented them
right away on their shirts.  

Two shirts were sold right there on the street at our retail price to a group of
visiting short term missionaries, which is exactly who their target customers
are.  These girls wanted to take pictures and were so encouraging and our two

we're so excited.  
It didn't go quite as we'll in the other two shops, but they
sold 2 more to the main vendor on the street "The Source Cafe", and two to
another shop across the street.   Now the most difficult part of all, saving
all 80,000 shillings until January when we return. With all the copying that
goes on, they may have just had their best day with this design, but they have
gotten some experience, and opportunity so that is worth something.

We headed to the hotel and met the rest of the group which quickly exploded into
squeals and shouts and stealing of floatation devices.
It was the first day in
a while when nobody went under involuntarily, whew!  Of course, we didn't know
realize that until the end of the day so we some super power vigilance until
everyone was safely dried off.  Ice cream on the patio came next.
Doreen

Sharon
Judith
Regina
Yoweri
We are grateful.

I'm in the back seat of now of Chris's compact car about 90minutes into our long 
drive to Kampala for our final night here in Uganda.    That means we have had
our swim party,  a small dish of ice cream a final group picture and said our
goodbyes.  My heart is tear stained once again, but what a gift to love and to
be loved by Chayah's children and staff.  I'm uncomfortable beck here but I
don't think it's because I'm packed between the stack of empty suit cases and
the door.  More likely, it is because for the life of me I cannot figure out to
pull these two worlds of ours closer together. It might really be a gift
actually, that I have no choice but to focus on the family that is on the same
continent we are. 

There are at least 12 people I cannot go much longer without putting my arms
around...and so it is a gift to go from one amazing family here to precious
family at home that call us by our real names "Papa & DD".   Life with Jesus, on this side of heaven doesn't get a whole lot better than that. 


Tuesday, August 19, 2014

"Yes & Amen" A "Yes" day at Chayah. Aug 19th, 2014










We headed for Chayah early this morning, stopping in town at the bank, a place
for card stock and a box of water bottles.   A flat tire on the boda boda meant
we traded for another at about the 1/2 way point.

We met with the kids first thing and talked to them about the temptations of
this world and that Jesus was worth everything they may have to walk away from. 
Our destiny is heaven where there is more than we can every imagine.

and write down what they would like to do today.  Their excitement was so fun. 
Within just a few minutes small pieces of paper were turned in to us.  Their
smiles grew as each one was read aloud and Dann responded with a "yes!". 
Thankfully there were not 19 different ideas, but over and over again we saw
"swimming" "water balloons" "net ball" and "sleeping slide" (slip n slide)






We announced that they should put on their "swimming costumes" and there was
some of the most joyful and creative and risky slippin' that I've ever seen. 
 







After about an hour, they were tired and cold, so they bathed, washed their
suits and found something a little quieter to do.


After lunch a boys against
girls net ball game ensued and some of the rest of us played UNO.  The youngest
ones had a mattress in the yard and talked Dann into being the sardine that was
piled upon.  The laughter was contagious, especially when he was at the bottom
of the pile. 
 
 

  
 
   We taught them to make human pyramids...

 
 
We taught them to make human pyramids and then filled water balloons for a
series of tossing games.  There was no pouting, no crying over being the first
one to break the balloon, just sheer screaming and fun at the grand effort and
splash of water when it broke. 

Tomorrow we'll keep our promise and bring them to the hotel to swim before we
say our good byes. 

It has dawned on me over and over again this week, that these particular
children may have rarely if ever been recipients of attention, praise or the
affection of a father.  Surely it has not been constant or recent.  Watching
Dann with them, playing, wrestling, teaching or nodding approval at their
singing and dancing makes me pray they understand a little bit more about a
father's love, most importantly the love of their Heavenly Father.  

He is capable of showing us everything we need to know in His word, but every culture in the world clashes and falls short of a true father figure.  So grateful we can love them in the best way we know how and that God himself will cover where we fall short.  In the meantime, having a "yes" day at Chayah was more than fun for them and a wonderful gift to us.