The Gift of Hope - By Sarah Painter

Continued from "Through the Looking Glass"

We are hustled away from the hospital after our afternoon of chaos. Brief opportunities are taken by our excited group to learn what had happened to others during the madness of the first afternoon of skills stations. It was as though we had set up individual planets and traveled through space with participants, with no real understanding of what had happened in adjacent universes. There was so much debriefing to do.

Mentally and physically exhausted, we climb into our van hoping for a brief reprieve back at the hotel. Our group quickly learns that this is not the plan as we have an outing and we are leaving directly from the hospital. Our haggard team is carted off to our next event without any time for protest. "I hope this doesn’t take too long," I thought to myself selfishly.

En route to our destination, we are informed that we're visiting three families that receive sponsorship from Canadians Helping Kids in Vietnam. Our first stop seems to be outside the fray of downtown Long Xuyen. We pull over on a dirt road shoulder, adjacent to a field with waste strewn about. There are shanty-style shacks positioned unsteadily on uneven ground. A faint, foul smell is carried diffusely in the air. Curious barefoot children dash playfully about the tall grass, interested in the presence of our group. We walk down a narrow path towards the cement structures and stop in front of a doorway. We have arrived at the home of a CHKV sponsored child.

A beautiful little girl stands in the doorway with her grandmother. I am positioned sheepishly towards the back of the narrow pathway, making room for Chau and her mothers to be at the front. Thu’s voice rings out over our quiet group telling us this little girl’s story. When she was just five years old her father became sick and died.  Following this tragic event, her mother abandoned her; leaving to start another family. Her paternal grandparents then took responsibility for her, as she had no one else. Her grandfather is very ill with tuberculosis but still goes out to work manual labour everyday to support the three of them. The little girl is now nine years old. Because of the sponsorship money the family receives from CHKV, she can go to school and not have to work to supplement the family income. As Thu explains the tragic story of this family to our group, the girl’s grandmother stands before us with tears streaming down her face. Powerful emotions emitted demonstrating her sorrow and gratitude for without this money the family would be without a home and this beautiful young girl would be unable to attend school. We move closer to inspect the home. It is a single room inhabited by three people; no greater than the size of a closet with minimal furniture. I stood uncomfortably near the doorway of the home like I might be somehow struck down if I entered. I felt exposed, as though I was wearing a scarlet letter. In my mind was the image of my own home. There I stood at the interface of the injustices and inequality of our separate worlds. And I was guilty. I could feel the pressure of tears welling in my eyes as the young girl approached the doorway. She thanked Chau and CHKV for the opportunity to attend school and promised to study hard. It was incredibly touching. I left embarrassed by my life of privilege, trying to determine in my own mind why I have been given so much and others so little.

Our next stop was further away. It was quite a distance down a dirt road that was too narrow for the van. Water bottles in hand, we proceed down a path. There are shanties on either side of the narrow dusty trail, completely open to the front with gates protecting family valuables. Occasional potted plants with chains are secured to homes, defending from theft. Curious barefoot children run with sandy-dirt and garbage under their hardened feet. We pass by collections of people seated outside their homes, smiling and waving as we walk by. We turn down what seems like a side road and follow it to the end of the line. The second CHKV sponsored family waits there in front of their humble home. It is a precarious tree-house style structure with a rickety, patchwork ramp that leads into the dwelling.

Chau, Darlene, and Thu enter to meet the family. The rest of us wait outside. The house is next to a large field that appears agricultural in nature. It is difficult to say what is produced here and who is responsible for the land. There is garbage and clutter around the path with the sharp odour of a latrine thick in the air. Chau emerges from the home with a little girl and a picture in her hand. Chau tells us that this little girl had been born with a cleft palate that had been repaired as a child. Our group was able to admire her reconstructed facial features and compare it to her pre-operative baby picture. Many babies born with cleft lips and palates are left unrepaired, as surgery is unaffordable for so many. As Chau stands beside this girl, inquisitive siblings dressed in dirty clothes begin to materialize around the doorway and we are told a little more about the family. A lone elderly grandmother raises this household of seven grandchildren. The parents are so poor that they’ve been forced to travel to a different region of the country to find employment. They both work in a factory and have developed chronic lung disease as a result. Despite their illnesses, they are desperately pushing through to provide for their family as much as possible. The grandmother is raising these seven children in a crowded single room shack held together by bamboo sticks built by the charitable efforts of sympathetic neighbours. CHKV sponsorship makes it possible for these children to attend school, instead of being forced to work in order for the family to survive. We are invited into the home and I reluctantly approach the entrance, climbing a rickety ladder to a shack comprised of scrap wood and metal, the inside no larger than a closet. There are two tattered hammocks suspended in the rear of the home. I looked around attempting to use my spatial reasoning skills to determine in what fashion eight bodies could manage to sleep here. Leaving this second family visit, I walk mostly in solitary returning down our path. Smiling community members recognize our departure, warmly waving from chairs and alleyways. One would imagine that people living in such desperate poverty would be embarrassed. But it is I who am humiliated: shamed by my life of privilege and unintentional greed. I walked with my head down towards the van. Cowardly and saddened, I could barely look at people as I passed. Do they know how much I have? Can they see it? How can I explain that I am a good person but maintain such richness for myself and give so little?

I am a contradiction, a hypocrite.

But there is no break from this trial, this moment of reckoning, as we are bound for our final visit. Our van pushes back into the manic streets of Long Xuyen. This time destined for an urban ghetto.

We park on the side of an unassuming street, the kind of place where we would pull the van over for lunch. Deep into the back lanes we are led, into a complex network of dirt trails and alleyways. Between the main street and the river exists a bustling community of people living in a variety of concrete homes and shacks adjacent to the water. There is a stream of some sort visible from our path. The water is filthy, filled with litter. It is almost blue with some type of contamination. There is an unusual tapestry of seemingly reasonable homes with tiny businesses such as barbershops and little stores. In stark contrast to these structures are completely dilapidated shacks. Overall, the surroundings seem to have less poverty than the last two places, likely the result of their close proximity to the economic opportunities of busy downtown streets. However, as we wander deeper and deeper into this community, the destitution becomes more and more clear. It is an incredible narrow and intricate maze of pathways; tiny doorways articulate our every step. Children run up and down the path, laughing and curious. I’m sure it isn’t everyday that they see such a brood of North American visitors this deep in their secret city.

We arrive at the doorway of the final family. An elderly woman greets us with a warm toothless grin. We gather around her entrance way and are enveloped by a crowd of interested community members. There is a brief commotion and pressured Vietnamese communication. The sponsored boy is not home and a fleet of excited children depart in search of our guest of honour. Wasting no time, Thu begins to tell us about his life. This little boy was only a baby when his father became ill from HIV. The grandmother was forced to sell all physical possessions, including her house, to pay for the medical bills. Despite all their efforts, the boy’s father died of AIDS. He was then abandoned by his mother who after being widowed and losing everything, had left in search of greater financial security. Now the young boy was left homeless with only his grandmother remaining to care for him. Currently they reside in a one-room cement shanty deep in this secret labyrinth, hidden away from the busy streets of Long Xuyen. The grandmother is in her 70s and walks the streets from dawn until dusk each day selling lottery tickets just to make enough money for one meal. The little boy is now seven. Without CHKV sponsorship money, the boy would be removed from school in order to help his grandmother ensure their survival. As Thu continued to tell their story, the grandmother made her away around our entire group shaking each hand and expressing gratitude. We were unable to meet the little boy as he was still in school at the time. However, the experience was still remarkable. As we were about to leave, the boy arrived, surrounded by the many children who spearheaded his search.

As we made our way out of this urban jungle, I found myself deep in thought. I have known poverty exists and have seen it in many forms. I live in a city that struggles with the issue. My educational preparation as a nurse taught me the determinants of health and what an incredible disadvantage is found in a life of poverty. Once we arrived in Vietnam, I was at what I believed to be the interface of my world and theirs. I could see the difference, the discrepancy, between what I have that they do not. But nothing could have prepared me for what I witnessed on this afternoon. It was poverty unlike anything that I had ever seen before. Although it was truly difficult to see it, I am so grateful to have been there. So much do I take for granted in my life, including my basic education as a child. But today I was able to bear witness to a beautiful ray of light - the incredible work of CHKV. Because of their efforts, over 2000 children and their families over the past 21 years have been provided with assistance so that they can attend school, and I cannot imagine a greater contribution than this. Education is a powerful weapon against poverty. Literacy, basic mathematics, ability to write and problem solve are your allies if you hope to change the trajectory of your future.

I drifted off to sleep last night thinking of these three families and the hope that has been gifted to them through sponsorship. Perhaps they have been given a chance to break the cycle...