A Thin-Skinned Day

This blog is going to be a long one without any pictures, so if you want to read on, be prepared. 

Tuesday was a rough day. I was sharing what happened with Sophie (my roommate) and expressed I was surprised by the emotions I experienced on Tuesday as I have been surrounded by all of this for the last three weeks. She told me that her friend calls it a “thin-skinned day” and I thought this was a perfect description. 

 As many of you who have worked with children will know, there are a range of disturbing images you may see. Here are a few things I have encountered so far: the little boy with scars - lash marks evident all over his back, the little girl with a severely burned arm, a finger that was broken but not set correctly, and perfect 5 inch square burn marks - two on each leg, the shoes that are too big or too small or falling apart or no shoes at all, and teeth that are so rotten it is good they are baby teeth and will fall out. 

Then there is the food situation. In the area where I am working, food is provided by the government to the creche (school for 2-5 year olds where I work) and in turn the creche feeds the children with that food. Despite this system, there are times when the creche does not have food to feed the children, perhaps the government is slow to process the application, etc. 

The creche will notify the families if they do not have any food. If the parents have the ability to provide food for their children, they will typically send them to school with a simple lunch – maybe a few slices of bread with butter or a slice of meat, a piece of fruit, and maybe a small amount of a puffed snack food. If the parents cannot provide food, the children come without it. 

Last week, we encountered this situation at the Etshaneni Creche - no food for the children. During the food break, the children with food sat and ate what their parents provided while the children without food just sat and watched. Coming from a culture where too much food is one of our biggest health issues, this was impossible to watch – so we ran to the car and got our lunches and spread it out over the children who did not have food. 

The next day was the same - only there were more children that didn’t have food. As I ran to the car to get our lunches again, I said a little prayer that just as Jesus fed the masses with 2 loaves of bread and 5 fish, we would feed the children with our lunches. And thankfully, we did. 

Then there was Tuesday. We were told the food was on its way from the government, yet when we arrived Tuesday, no food. On this day all we had to give the children was a loaf of white sandwich bread. I went around the room and gave each child a slice of plain white bread - nothing on it to make it taste better, nothing nutritious or filling. As I walked around to each child, they cupped their little hands to receive the bread as if it was a sacrament. After I finished, I stood back along the wall and watched as the little boy who owns my heart at this creche gratefully ate his one piece of bread. And I suddenly realized I was not handling it well. As tears filled my eyes, I walked through the door and went behind the building. I tried to compose myself, but every time I thought about the one slice of white sandwich bread I got choked up again. It took me about five minutes to gather myself and go back in with a smile. 

As we were leaving, we ran into a woman from the Department of Social Welfare who provides the food to the creches and explained the situation. She promised to look into it and get back to us. We are hoping for food next week, but if not, I’ve already said I won't go back without food. The good news is that Cassandra agrees and we should be able to do something, but I will let you know how it turns out.