My Last Week

- (Above)A picture of some of my many "snack" visitors. (Below) The innocence of a child.

I wish that I had something witty or exciting to say, but I just don't. I am starting my final week here in the village, and I must admit that I feel a twinge of sadness. This experience has definitely been life altering. What else could you call something that put you slap in the middle of one of the poorest areas you have ever seen. A place where the great majority of people live well below the poverty line. A place where they live, in truth, like a third-world country in many ways. I can not think of many other places in so-called civilized countries where people live without running water and basic sanitation.

But, that being said, these are some of the most amazing people I have ever met. Imagine having to bring in water for dishes, wash dishes, and then use that same water to mop the floor. After that, you have to make dinner for your nine or ten siblings, make sure all the babies are fed and clean, and wash clothes BY HAND. You also have to get up and take care of the "babies"--half of which aren't even your biological siblings--in the middle of the night. (Don't ask me where the mother is, I honestly don't know.) On top of that, you have your schoolwork. At yet somehow, you manage to keep a positive attitude almost all the time. And the person I am talking about is
a teenager. She should be worried about what boy might like her or how she should wear her hair NOT what to do when her sibling is crying in the middle of the night and won't stop.

There are kids here who are almost starving, and yet they play and laugh just like other little kids everywhere else in the world. Now, that's not to say that these people don't have ANY money, it's just many of the "adults" don't have any sort of idea of management. I was in the store the other day, and it was the first of the month, when the new food stamps come out. This couple in front of me, that I KNOW has at least three small children bought two boxes of hot pockets, three boxes of ice cream bars, and potato chips. How is that a way to feed your children? It is no wonder that these kids come to my house looking for food. You can see the relief on their faces when I tell them that they can "have snack." Usually snack means a pack of crackers, a granola bar, or trail mix. (At this point I want to stop and thank everyone who has sent "snacks" to me or helped me buy food for our Sunday School class lunches in the last two years. You have really helped me help these kids. I appreciate you, and know that God will bless you for it.)
Of course all the parents aren't like this. There are several parents who take wonderful care of their children, but those are the lucky ones. I wish I could tell you how many times kids have come over "to visit" in the middle of winter with NO SOCKS on. They take their shoes off when they come in, and I am incredulous that a parent would allow their six or seven year old to leave the house in the middle of an Alaskan winter with no socks on.

I will miss seeing the atmosphere of the village. You have kids riding their bikes, playing with sleds, and just running around. When you walk to the post office or to the store, every single person either speaks to you or, if they are far away, waves or calls out. It is like living a neighborhood from Leave It to Beaver. That's not to say that it is all "beer and skittles" ( a M*A*S*H quote). Some of these kids are abused badly. You can see a difference in the faces of the kids in the lower elementary grades and the upper elementary grades. You can almost walk down the hall and tell which ones are abused. It is like the sparkle of childhood has gone out of their eyes. I wish that I could take all those wonderful little kiddos away from here, but I know that isn't possible. I can only hope that I, along with a select few others, have made enough difference in the lives of these kids to break the cycle of abuse that exists here.

I am going into this last week with a mixture of feelings. I have a definite gladness in my heart to return to the arms of my family, my church, and my friends. But, I also have a definite sadness there to know that I am leaving behind such a wonderful place that has changed me "for good."

Debbie