Hidden under dirt.

“None of us, I am sure knows the pain of hunger,
but one day I learned it from a little child.
I found the child in the street and I saw in her face that
terrible hunger that I have seen in many eyes.
Without questioning her I gave her a piece of bread, and then
I saw that the little child was eating the bread crumb by crumb.
And I said to her: Eat the bread. And that little one looked at me and said:
I am afraid because when the bread is finished I will be hungry again.”
-Mother Teresa
I have been looking into the eyes of children who are experiencing “terrible hunger”. Whether their hunger is from lack of food or from lack of love, their eyes tell their stories of pain and emptiness and they ask questions about the hope of their futures. Two weeks ago, a desperate grandmother stood before me asking for help. She was holding a chubby baby that, upon first glance, appeared to be approximately six months old and healthy. But when she gave me the child to assess him further, I was shocked to see that his mouth was full of teeth. I quickly asked the age of the baby; and the grandmother responded: “fifteen months”. I was moved as she told me of her struggle to care for her grandson, Kevin. Close to the time of Kevin’s birth, his father passed away; and when he was merely four months old, his mother left to try and find work. She has not returned.
Kevin has been surviving on a diet of only cornmeal porridge. Amongst the poor, diets often consist of single staples, such as maize, which have a low protein to energy ratio. His “chubbiness” was, ironically enough, the result of severe malnutrition that caused his body to swell. His growth was stunted, and he was significantly delayed developmentally. Unable to crawl, stand, walk, speak or play; this little one rested in my arms. I asked God for help, for wisdom.
Kwashiorkor, the form of protein and micronutrient deficiency Kevin suffers with, was termed by the Ga tribe in Ghana for being “the disease of the displaced child”. It was originally given this name because it was a condition typically seen in young children prematurely weaned from their mother’s breast milk after the birth of a subsequent child. In today’s world, the consequences of HIV/AIDS and extreme poverty have brought new meaning and significance to these “displaced” children. Their vulnerability is not only from losing the nourishment of their mothers. They have lost their mothers themselves. Their struggle for survival, for hope is great.
Kevin arrived to Tumaini na Afya’s Kimbilio Center (Hope & Health’s Refuge) weighing thirteen pounds. He was irritable and weak. Within one week of receiving a special formula and lots of love, Kevin has stabilized. He has been eating well and has gained a pound. He has begun to laugh and play; and quite unbelievably, he has gained enough strength to stand up by himself and is trying to walk. When I think about Kevin, I think about a powerful promise that Jesus gave when he said: “if you receive a child in my name, you receive me.”
I recently held another little baby so beaten by this world. She was covered in filth; but as I held her frightened body, I was struck by the thought that our value has nothing to do with what we possess. It does depend upon our appearance or by what we do. Washing the child was not going to make her worthy of affection. Her value was hidden under dirt and rags, and this is what caused us to bathe her.
When I think about the suffering of these “displaced” children, there are so many questions that I do not have answers to. Sometimes the circumstances that surround are so overwhelming I do not even know what questions to ask. But my prayer is that God will give me the grace to keep looking into their eyes and the compassion to give a cup of water, a piece of bread, or whatever may be required in Jesus name.