The Orphanage

A couple of days ago, we visited an orphanage in a village just a little down the coastline from here. Heather said she wanted us (and the team who is visiting her right now) to see what a “real orphanage” is like here in Haiti before they see the way it is at the crèche, to give us perspective.

It was… heartbreaking.

The pastor gave us a tour. I think he’s also the director of the orphanage, along with his son. He speaks pretty good English and greeted us all very warmly and cheerfully. But it’s… just hard to put it all together.We walked through a little tin gate into the “courtyard” where the children live. A chinsy blue guitar leaned against a concrete trough full of trash and draped with rags. Trash was everywhere. There must have been pigs next door, because the place reeked.    

It’s hard to describe what it was like in there, but you can probably imagine. You’ve heard it described; it is just like the tragically poor orphanage your mind would conjure up. But… it is real. The dirt on your sandals is real. That junky tent to your left, with piles of wet, dirty clothes thrown about and muddy water leaking into its floor, is real. Worse; it’s where real little boys sleep at night.

I know those rows of girls sitting still on wooden benches might not look it, but they’re real, too. So is the little girl lying inside the bedroom—the one bedroom where all 30-some girls sleep on a few bunk beds—with a broken leg. I knelt down beside her and asked her name. Her smile is gorgeous. I asked in my broken Creole if I could pray for her, and she nodded and gave me another smile. I told her I’d have to pray in English, since I don’t speak much Creole, and she just nodded and smiled again.

So here comes the hardest part to truly believe: the little boys, sitting also in rows on wooden benches but under a different patch of roof… they’re real little boys. They are real little boys that God carefully formed and created in His own image, with a specific plan and purpose, boys who were made to laugh and sing and grow into strong men… and here they sit. Looking into their eyes, you almost wonder if anyone is in there. The hopelessness of their broken spirits is stunning.

That breaks my heart. I know it breaks God’s.

And you know the worst thing about this situation? It’s appalling to see their “bedrooms”, their living space, and the emptiness in their eyes. It’s unbelievable to know that they don’t always have enough to eat, that they’re lucky to eat once a day. It’s horrible to see the big locks on their bedroom doors. But it’s worse to know that, at least for some of these places, it doesn’t have to be.

I cannot judge this particular pastor or his son. I don’t know the full situation. But I did find out yesterday that many, many bad orphanages like this in Haiti are like little personal collections of kids; they will not allow adoption. Why? Because if they keep their poor orphans, then people like us can come and see and be horrified and help out. They can get sponsorship money, and gifts.

Doesn’t that just make you mad?

I am not mad at these orphanage directors. Like I said, I don’t know the full story and I don’t think they live very well either; but this situation has to change.

I ended that day on my face before God, pleading with Him for these little lives. I think many of us who saw this sight did the same. We were touched, sobered, broken… and challenged. Like Heather reminded us, that brokenness should lead us to action. It is possible that bringing this to the attention of the government would result in shutting down the orphanage and moving all the precious kids to Heather’s crèche and hopefully to adoption; that would be wonderful. And for right now, and for most of us, what we can do is fight—spiritually. We can pray.

Will you join me?