and so the miracles continue....

We met Stephen, who lived in the tent city located adjacent to Go-Haiti's property back in January.  He came to the compound to get clean water, when I noticed a bandage on his thumb.  I removed it, and yelled for Dr. Franco immediately.  This is what it looked like:

We weren't even sure if the thumb was fixable- it was covered with necrotic tissue and there was no longer a fingernail.  We made a documentary of the last trip where we performed surgery with Dr. Franco on Stephen's thumb- it's located at http://www.go-haiti.org/ if you scroll to the bottom left of the home page, Stephen's story is the last third of the documentary.  We were only able to do any type of follow-up care with Stephen for five days after the surgery because we then returned home.   Soon after we left there was a fire in the tent city, and everyone living there (nearly 500 individuals) were displaced yet again.  I came down in April and didn't see Stephen at all.  After speaking with Dr. Franco prior to coming down here this time, we discussed how we had to find him and see how his thumb is healing.  So I am running around this morning attempting to set up another water day for the kids since the scorching 100 + degree weather is unbearable, and Franco goes "hey kim...look who it is!?!"  I couldn't believe my eyes- Stephen was back!  I immediately grabbed his hand, and he had a healed, fully functioning thumb....with a nail!!!  Wait, did I grab the wrong hand?  This kid must think I'm nuts.  I grabbed his other one.  Then I grabbed both of them.  No way- you couldn't even tell which hand he had slammed into an iron gate on purpose.  I couldn't stop hugging him, and he just smiled.  Stephen doesn't understand a word of English.  In fact, he was mortified when we did the surgery because he truly believed we were amputating his thumb the entire time.  Here is what his thumb looks like as of today:

An absolute miracle.  The fact that his infection didn't spread, or the surgical site get infected while living in a tent city with absolutely no clean, running water to change the dressing daily or any type of antibiotics available is not just luck.  It's an absolute miracle.

It was so hot today, and the babies at the orphanage just looked so tired and worn down from the heat.  We set up both baby pools, with two slip-n-slides, and they went nuts.  At one point, there were 15 kids in two baby pools.  I'm not going to lie- I also went in.  I couldn't take the heat anymore, and all the kids kept chanting my name "Kim....you come in??" So I jumped in with all my clothes on, and let me tell you, that was the smartest thing I've done since I've been here.  Working the rest of the day with soaking wet clothes and hair is the way to stay a little less hot.
Towards the end of the day, we decided to try to give the workers here at Go-Haiti a break, and had the kids wash up in the pools instead of having to come inside to shower.  My mother packed baby shampoo in the checked luggage, which was genius on her part, and the kids loved showering in the pool.  They were adorable.



David also began teaching his welding class today.  He collected several different tools and welding supplies in order to hold classes every day, open to anyone who wanted to come, completely free of charge.  Go-Haiti is an advocate of teaching Haitians to be self-sufficient, and starting a trade school is something we are determined to do.  This is just the beginning.

Pete Zipf, who is here with his entire family (which is absolutely amazing to begin with), came up with the idea of building bunk beds.  There are another 25 volunteers coming down next week, and it would not only be a place for them to stay, but then the kids would have brand new beds as well.  Here's everyone hard at work.

And the best of all of this, Stephen took the sand paper out of my hand to help out :)

Another absolutely incredibly day in Haiti.  Everyday here I am reminded of so many things in life.  I will try to share a few of those with you. 
We went in to eat lunch today, and Gayepaye came and sat next to me.  The children eat before the adults, so I knew he had already eaten.  When I had finished, there was hardly anything left on the plate.  I put my napkins on it, and headed to the garbage.  Gayepaye grabbed my arm and shook his head.  I put the plate down and he ate every last bit of food on it.  He sucked on the chicken bone for quite some time.  I just sat there watching him.  It is so easy to forget that most of these children were raised with food being a luxury, and not having daily meals.  When Gayepaye's mother passed away from Tuberculosis when he was just 5 years old, he walked to the orphanage alone to ask if he could stay there.  I always wonder how many days he went without asking for help or wandering around aimlessly and scared.  He is such a little man, and always has been.  We take for granted that we have access to food and three meals a day anytime we want.  It really made me take a step back and just put certain things in my life back into perspective.  I always say Haiti is my reality check that I need and wish I could always have on a daily basis.

I will leave you with this poem that I found when trying to locate where I could get Paul Farmer's new book.  The words are incredibly powerful, and yet, very true.  It's by Eduardo Galeano:

Fleas dream of buying themselves a dog, and nobodies dream
of escaping poverty: that one magical day good luck will
suddenly rain down on them- will rain down in buckets. But
good luck doesn't even fall in a fine drizzle, no matter
how hard the nobodies summon it, even if their left hand is
tickling, or if they begin the new day with their right foot, or
start the new year with a change of brooms.
The nobodies: nobody's children, owners of nothing. The
nobodies: the no ones, the nobodied, running like rabbits,
dying through life, screwed every which way.
Who don't speak languages, but dialects.
Who don't have religions, but superstitions.
Who don't create art, but handicrafts.
Who don't have culture, but folklore.
Who are not human beings, but human resources.
Who do not have names, but numbers.
Who do not appear in the history of the world, but in the
police blotter of the local paper.
The nobodies, who are not worth the bullet that kills them
It is sad to say but many people view abject poverty and the people who are forced to live in it exactly this way.  It breaks my heart that people think that we are any different than the average Haitian- or anyone living in a third world country.  The only difference is where you were born.  These "nobodys" written about in this poem are somebody. I see the children here at this orphanage and the amount of potential they have is endless- full of such life, talent, and love- regardless of the circumstances of where they were found or brought here by.  The words of this poem are incredibly powerful.  Many of these children were brought into this world deemed worthless, left for dead, abandoned, and forced to figure out how to survive in life way too early on.
The only comfort I find when I think about awful life must have been for most of the babies here...is Psalm 68:5..."I will be a father to the fatherless..." & the children here at Go-Haiti are taught that they have a heavenly father who loves them for eternity.

I will leave you with some funny photos from today that I hope bring a smile to your face: