A reflection from Anawim Home Team member, Adrienne Brooks, on her time at Anawim Home:
I knew when I came on this trip that I would probably see things that would really affect me emotionally and spiritually. By now, I think everyone knows that Nigeria is a third-world, poverty stricken nation. Understanding that concept is one thing, to actually experience it is another. I have a few pictures of "the destitute", but honestly, a picture can't express the overwhelming sense of hopelessness, discomfort, grief, pity, and so many other emotions that I felt. These are places where people have been unwillingly taken off the street (many are mentally disabled), and forced to live in this place. Those who are strong enough to run away, back to the street where they can beg and maybe get food, are chained to logs, or their feet are chained together. I am not sure how often they are fed, but the system is corrupt and I does not appear that they eat everyday.
After enjoying a lovely day at a wedding, we went to feed the destitute Being there, seeing them, smelling them, hearing them moan or shout, feeling them claw my hands trying to get to the food faster, watching some pick up the logs that they are chained to get closer, was unlike anything I could ever describe in America. I have never seen a such a desperate need to survive. It was animalistic. I have been to many places around the country, on numerous service trips, two different places in Mexico, and there is nothing I could compare this to. At all.
The idea of voluntourism had been playing in my mind since I began planning and applying for this mission. That day, as I watched people bite into the plastic bags that held the rice, not caring if they were eating plastic or food only that they were eating, I realized that that day, I made a difference to someone. I don't know their names, they probably won't remember me, but their hands groping the air, tearing eggs and bags of water out of my hands will be ingrained in my heart forever. To them, I made a difference, that day.
As we went to these places, we were quiet. We didn't know what to say as we looked around at each other. Sister Oresoa was yelling at them to stay back and to only take one, but the other missionaries and I were silent. When we got in the car, felt like none of that had just happened. It was all a rush. Sister even said I was traumatized. I think we all were. I looked at Jess. We both had tears in our eyes, but we didn't know what to do. Sister was so strong and just moved on to the next stop. And we were out of the car again, fighting off more hands, blocking out more shouts for a second bag. When we got back in the van, we were silent again. I'm sure we were all thinking about how someone could live like that, how God could let that happen. When we made eye contact, we gave a weak smile and looked away, no one had words.
I have not quite figured out why God lets things like this happen. I only know that there are people out there, fighting off starvation every single day, chained to logs, unable to run away, to be free. I don't know what I can do for them anymore, now that I'm back here, except tell there story. If I can make one more person aware of this, make one more person pray for these people, then God will be happy.
This is a prayer I found while reflecting on such strong emotions:
O Lord, hear my cry pouring out from a troubled heart. The sorrow which clutches at my soul has driven me to You my protector, my True Friend in time of need. You know, my God, all my failings, my faults and my sins as well as the torment gripping my soul. My greatest sorrow should be for my disregard of Your holy commandments in the past, and I sincerely hope that you will grant me the grace of true contrition. O my Savior, hide not Your Face from me in this tribulation, let the light of Your Countenance shine upon me that I may be illuminated by Its love. If it be Your will, lighten this burden from me, yet should it be a means of my salvation, help me, help me O Lord, to carry this cross, for alone I can do nothing. Radiate Your love upon Your prodigal child O Lord, this beggar who knocks at Your door seeking shelter in Your Sacred Heart; this once proud earthen vessel made of clay seeks You, O Christ, and in a newly found faith, firmly believes that you will receive him in Your limitless Love and Mercy. Amen
I knew when I came on this trip that I would probably see things that would really affect me emotionally and spiritually. By now, I think everyone knows that Nigeria is a third-world, poverty stricken nation. Understanding that concept is one thing, to actually experience it is another. I have a few pictures of "the destitute", but honestly, a picture can't express the overwhelming sense of hopelessness, discomfort, grief, pity, and so many other emotions that I felt. These are places where people have been unwillingly taken off the street (many are mentally disabled), and forced to live in this place. Those who are strong enough to run away, back to the street where they can beg and maybe get food, are chained to logs, or their feet are chained together. I am not sure how often they are fed, but the system is corrupt and I does not appear that they eat everyday.
After enjoying a lovely day at a wedding, we went to feed the destitute Being there, seeing them, smelling them, hearing them moan or shout, feeling them claw my hands trying to get to the food faster, watching some pick up the logs that they are chained to get closer, was unlike anything I could ever describe in America. I have never seen a such a desperate need to survive. It was animalistic. I have been to many places around the country, on numerous service trips, two different places in Mexico, and there is nothing I could compare this to. At all.
The idea of voluntourism had been playing in my mind since I began planning and applying for this mission. That day, as I watched people bite into the plastic bags that held the rice, not caring if they were eating plastic or food only that they were eating, I realized that that day, I made a difference to someone. I don't know their names, they probably won't remember me, but their hands groping the air, tearing eggs and bags of water out of my hands will be ingrained in my heart forever. To them, I made a difference, that day.
As we went to these places, we were quiet. We didn't know what to say as we looked around at each other. Sister Oresoa was yelling at them to stay back and to only take one, but the other missionaries and I were silent. When we got in the car, felt like none of that had just happened. It was all a rush. Sister even said I was traumatized. I think we all were. I looked at Jess. We both had tears in our eyes, but we didn't know what to do. Sister was so strong and just moved on to the next stop. And we were out of the car again, fighting off more hands, blocking out more shouts for a second bag. When we got back in the van, we were silent again. I'm sure we were all thinking about how someone could live like that, how God could let that happen. When we made eye contact, we gave a weak smile and looked away, no one had words.
I have not quite figured out why God lets things like this happen. I only know that there are people out there, fighting off starvation every single day, chained to logs, unable to run away, to be free. I don't know what I can do for them anymore, now that I'm back here, except tell there story. If I can make one more person aware of this, make one more person pray for these people, then God will be happy.
This is a prayer I found while reflecting on such strong emotions:
O Lord, hear my cry pouring out from a troubled heart. The sorrow which clutches at my soul has driven me to You my protector, my True Friend in time of need. You know, my God, all my failings, my faults and my sins as well as the torment gripping my soul. My greatest sorrow should be for my disregard of Your holy commandments in the past, and I sincerely hope that you will grant me the grace of true contrition. O my Savior, hide not Your Face from me in this tribulation, let the light of Your Countenance shine upon me that I may be illuminated by Its love. If it be Your will, lighten this burden from me, yet should it be a means of my salvation, help me, help me O Lord, to carry this cross, for alone I can do nothing. Radiate Your love upon Your prodigal child O Lord, this beggar who knocks at Your door seeking shelter in Your Sacred Heart; this once proud earthen vessel made of clay seeks You, O Christ, and in a newly found faith, firmly believes that you will receive him in Your limitless Love and Mercy. Amen
1 comment:
Thank you for being there to open hearts to this situation. Your description of what you felt gave me a lump in my throat and I heard the silence. The prayer you shared kindles my faith to keep trying to do something. With all the love at Nativity, we are not alone. God will give us the grace to know how to respond.
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