Horror Story, continued

Continued from previous post.

To see what is really happening in any situation requires going beyond the surface of things. The orphanage management maintained a front that allowed outsiders the opportunity to paint their own picture. The smiling faces of the children were your first encounter, but the bright eyes and happy faces concealed much of their real stories. Visitors did not readily notice the unsafe bare electrical wires in many places where kids would get shocks... or the nightmares, or Lolita the mongoloid child lying in her own filth covered with flies, or the trash, frogs and children’s toys in the well.

But Dr. John became concerned and later alarmed by what we could not see, and in an effort to learn the true health status of the children he brought another contingent of student doctors to the clinic to examine the children, including the Bible school students this time. I’ve already mentioned we had near 120 children and 25-30 Bible school students. Here were the results from the 157 tests that they performed.

123 cases of amoebas
13 instances of tapeworm
7 instances of protozoa, giardia lambia
5 cases of whipworm
6 cases of roundworm
3 incidents of pinworm

These results are not the horror story.

Dr. John outlined for me a course of treatment for these manifold internal maladies. He said that all the medicines would be provided free, but we would have to administer them ourselves.

That afternoon, I brought his notes to Wyman, the head of the orphanage and presented the results of the tests, noting that the medical follow up required would take about two months of giving shots three times a week.

Wyman’s eyes glazed over as he slid into a far off expression staring into the distance. Without looking at me directly, he replied, “I’ve always thought we needed more dorm space. Maybe we should get rid of that clinic and put more kids in there.” This statement, this revelation of what was inside the director of the orphanage, is our horror story.

There were three couples from the U.S. serving/assisting at the orphanage at that time, along with a half dozen Mexican staff employed as dorm parents, plus Juan and his wife, who did the cooking. Susie and I met with the other Americans to determine a course of action. After a time of prayer, I returned to Wyman to present the case a second time, stating that we ourselves would give all the shots and he would have no responsibility. A second time, he denied that there was a problem.

By day’s end I made a third appeal. Finally, he conceded that it would be good to administer medicine to the children. We had permission to proceed.

In short order, we began treatment. My parents visited during that summer and even my mom gave a slew of shots for a few days. I was the guy who handled the “tough cases.” About eight of the kids, including a couple of the Bible school students, required special handling… they did not like getting poked with a needle. I was the “point man” in these cases, making sure they got the point (of the needle).

Despite small successes in getting the meds administered, septic systems fixed, electrical system re-wired, screens on the cafeteria windows, church building re-roofed and buildings painted, the reality was that nothing had changed in the management. Promises made were quickly broken, and we were too young to see the craziness of it all with much clarity. Everything is easy in retrospect, of course. But the process of sorting which occurred when we returned to the States did give us a deeper understanding of ourselves, the structurally impaired belief systems we’d embraced, and the motivation to get a better handle on who we were and what we were about.

Our hearts go out to the needy children of this world… There is much brokenness, disease and despair out there, due to a host of cultural complexities. It’s not enough to just send money though, not when human hearts are hurting.

As always, much more can be said about that. I was just trying to give you a glimpse of an incident that might reveal one of the formative experiences in my life, that year in Mexico. And maybe sometime when we have a little time, you can ask me for details. Next time, I’ll begin with the rat story.