WAIVING GOODBYE TO IRAQ

WAIVING GOODBYE TO IRAQ

BY JENNIFER RAWLINGS

 

 

Soldiers in Iraq are packing up their rucksacks, turning in their Kevlar and helmets, cleaning their guns, and piling into C-130 aircrafts to fly home. On the long flight home many of the soldiers will pass the time on the flight talking about all the things they are going to do when they get home- some will get married, many will start a family, go back to school, lay on the beach. There will be as many “when I get back home plans” as there are soldiers. The soldiers will salivate talking about grilling a steak with corn on the cob and washing it down with an ice-cold beer.

Some of the soldiers will be returning to their childhood bedrooms at their parents house and the high-school memorabilia will still be on the walls because these young soldiers went straight from high school to boot camp. The older reservists and national guard will go back to the “regular jobs” as accountants, mechanics, waitresses, doctors, and stay-at home moms.

All of the soldiers both young and old will be reflecting on what they saw during their deployment in Iraq, many of the soldiers with multi deployments in the seven and half year war.

They will be thinking about the 4, 497 soldiers that have died in Iraq. Maybe one of the dead was bunkmate, or a brother. They will think about the 33,882 injured. They will think about their comrade that lost their leg, their arm and their face. They will think about the soldier that lost their eye-sight, or hearing, or the many soldiers with traumatic brain injuries.

The slide show in the minds of the soldiers will continue and it will drift to the Iraqis the estimates range from 112,625 to 300, 000 dead. And one can assume ten times that number injured. None of the Iraqi’s names get printed in the newspaper. The soldier heading home will probably think about the child they saw killed by roadside bomb, the wailing mother holding her bloodied infant. The old man drinking tea that suddenly vanished into dust during a powerful explosion.

The saddest part of the flight home might be when the soldier under orders from the US military asks themselves. Why? Why were  we here? What did we accomplish? For the sake of the soldier I hope their minds get off this topic quickly. Soldiers don’t make decisions about war- politicians do. Soldiers follow orders and risk being court-marshaled if they disobey.

It is the job of the politician to determine the why and the job of history books to determine if it was a success.

The next several weeks will be exciting days for the soldiers returning home. There will be parades, and parties and celebrations with friend and loved ones. The first few weeks will be an exciting and allow the soldiers to blow off some steam.

After a few weeks “life” will set in and the soldiers will have to adjust to being home. Driving a car again and realizing that the piece of trash in the road is NOT an IED, and that a clash of thunder is not a mortar round, and a stalled car is not a suicide bomber.

These will be difficult weeks and months for the returning soldiers, encourage them, listen to them, and love them.

Peace to the soldier.

THE CHRISTMAS SHIFT

THE CHRISTMAS SHIFT

By Jennifer Rawlings

When I was a kid, I started dreaming about Christmas in late July when the Sears Wishbook arrived in the mail. I would thumb through ever single page of that consumer tome and pick new digs for my Barbie dolls – like the “Barbie Town House” complete with string pulled orange elevator and of course the pink Barbie Volkswagen Camper bus with the orange and lime green decals you could stick on yourself.

In the heat of a Kansas summer I would envision every detail about Christmas morning and waking up to a pile of gifts for me and my Barbie Dolls, and the game of gnip-gnop my sister and I would play while our Barbie’s were napping. I could picture Santa Claus and his elves filling my stocking with grape Bonnie Bell Lip Smackers, and vibrant colored “toe socks”.

From July until December 24^th I would thumb through the Sears Wishbook every day just dreaming about Christmas and all the possibilities that Christmas morning would hold.

When my kids were young I wanted Christmas morning to be perfect. When the kids would wake up, the tree would be lit, the fireplace roaring, stockings filled to the brim, “Santa gifts” wrapped in glittery paper, and of course Santa ate his cookies and drank his milk. Christmas with young kids is magical.

My kids are all teenagers now and they still go along with all the rituals and routines. Santa still fills their stocking and I make sure the tree is plugged in and the fire place lit before they drag themselves out of bed on Christmas morning- a far cry from the toddlers who would wake me at 6am Christmas morning bouncing on the bed and screeching: “hurry get up, let’s go, let’s go in the living room to see what Santa brought us.”

Part of me misses that chapter – the simplicity of a girl with her Barbie dolls or a boy with his hot wheels. Getting that kind of joy out of a teenager is a lot more complicated and very expensive.

However, this new chapter of Christmas with kids has also taken me down a beautiful and unexpected path of new possibilities. I can’t recreate through buying the kind of “Gift bliss”  my kids had when they were young with wooden puzzles and trains. But my kids and I can create anticipation and excitement about what it’s like to share a fantastic holiday meal, buying gifts for children and families in need, and taking the time to make or buy something sentimental and meaningful for your family members.

Last year my daughter hand painted me a sake set and the year before she bought me a dwarf cherry blossom tree to plant in the backyard. The tree greets me every morning and reminds of Courtney’s thoughtful nature. Harrison, the artist in the house, made hand crafted clocks last year and hand bound books.

Of course, they still have a “wish list’ of expensive gifts but what we truly enjoy as a family is planning a great meal, decorating the tree and finding that one great gift that will elicit a smile, a chuckle or a tear.

I am one mom who will choose to see this as a season of possibilities instead of a season of obligations to shop.

I AM A 99% MOM

By JENNIFER RAWLINGS

“I AM THE 99% MOM”

When my alarm goes off at 5:45am every morning I want to hurl my phone across the room and sleep for another three hours. Instead, I simply push the 10-minute sleep button once and only once. Then I drag myself out of bed to make the coffee. I should have set the auto timer on the coffee maker the night before so that when I wake up the kitchen smells of French Roast and I don’t have to fiddle with the coffee grinder with my eyes half- mast. But I never do that, because I am too exhausted to do one more thing. Motherhood seems like a state of permanent exhaustion.
I used to think it was all the driving and cleaning and laundry and cooking that made me so tired. I don’t think that is it anymore. Sure, I would take a maid and a chauffeur if someone offers, but I think the exhaustion stems from worry.
No, I am not worried that my kids are going to poke their eyes out, slip on a banana, or eat cookies until they puke. Like all parents, I do have the fleeting moments of terror when they are out late and I have often found myself falling asleep praying.
I worry that I have not been a good enough mom. I am sure I am not alone in this fear -how can I possibly be a good enough mom – when the media promotes perfection. If “Us” and “People” magazine dedicate entire sections to the “celebrity mom” and constantly tout how the celeb du jour “lost all that baby weight”.
Nobody praises me and says: “How does Jennifer do it? Her youngest is only 13 years old and she only has 10 pounds to lose?” (Its actually 15 pounds but I am hoping my scale has a glitch). As a 99 percent mom I say: “love yourself where you are today” and that will teach your kids to love themselves.
There are moms in Los Angeles that have MORE than one nanny, and a maid, and a pool guy, and a gardener .You have seen them driving around- they are the moms in the yoga pants wearing full make-up with one kid in the black Lincoln Navigator with the “go green” sticker on the bumper that takes up two spots at Trader Joes. As a 99 percent mom I say to these moms: buy a smaller car if you want to “go green”, or better yet: ride your bike to Trader Joes. And please don’t take up two parking spots. It is important to teach your children to share.
The media constantly bombards us with stats and photos of billionaires and millionaires. It’s easy to feel like you are the only one on the planet without a trust fund, a bail out or company ready to go public. As a 99% percent mom, I am not ashamed to say that I would like to have financial security, and a first class ticket around the world. But for today, I will settle for the wealth that I can find in my three bedroom, yellow, possibly underwater, mortgaged house, with 20 more years of payments unless I win the lottery or sell millions of books. The riches under my roof are family dinners, movie nights, the kids playing guitars, and x-box, sleeping on my husband’s chest and shutting the blinds on Saturday morning when the Jehovah’s Witness comes knocking.
Today I will enjoy the simple pleasures of the 99% mom.

CELEBRATE A NEW YEAR

BY JENNIFER RAWLINGS

( originally published on Hybridmom)

Personally I am ready for the calendar to shift from 2010 to 2011. I don’t enjoy the rapid passage of time and the way one year blends into the next and how our children grow and change so quickly. One minute your child is writing a letter in crayon to Santa Claus and in the next breath they are driving. The march of time is rapid and it can’t be stopped. So instead of trying to “stop time” and holding onto old ways for reasons of sentimentality ( like the song “Auld Lang Syne” suggests), tradition, or even fear. I suggest approaching the New Year as a “ new person” a person who is longer bound by fear or tradition.

What I like about New Years is that the year in front of us blank page that is yet to be written on. Anything is possible. There are endless opportunities for beginning a new chapter with new goals and a new story line.

This NEW year is a chance to make the commitment and promise ourselves to be better people in the new year than we were in the past. To resolve to eat better, exercise more, save more money, give more to charity, and most importantly: reacquaint ourselves with our dreams and goals.

Adults, especially women, rarely get a chance to remind ourselves of what we really want out of life; to ask ourselves the question: “what do I actually stand for?” We are often so overwhelmed with schedules and financial responsibilities that we forget the woman that we want to be and we find ourselves living a life guided by obligations instead of by principals.

Take a deep breath, and then take out a pen and paper. Draw a word picture of the life you want to be living, then start writing down the steps of how you are going to get there. When self-doubt starts to creep in… keep writing. It’s never too late to reach your dreams and goals. It’s your life and you set the rules.

As you flush out the new portrait of your life and establish a path for getting there, don’t forget to feed your mind and spirit. Schedule time to read, to meditate, to pray and a quiet time to be thankful.

Our dreams and goals are like our children. They need to be nurtured and loved in order to grow. And when we stumble and fall, on our new path we need to get back up, ask for help sometimes and reassure ourselves that we can do it.

Welcome the New Year and the new woman you want to see in the mirror by dusting off your dreams and making them a reality. You owe it to yourself and the ones you love to be the woman you were created to be.

Have a  NEW- year in 2011!!!

 

A Man, A PLAN, AND PEACE

Originally published on Hybridmom.com

A MAN, A PLAN, AND PEACE

BY JENNIFER RAWLINGS

 

www.forgottenvoicesfilm.com

 

Fifteen years ago today the Dayton Peace accord was signed. The Dayton Peace accord was an agreement that effectively ended the three and half year war in Bosnia that killed over 250, 000 people, wounded and displaced millions of others and resulted in mass rapes and ethnic cleansing.

Richard C. Holbrooke, who died yesterday at the age of 69, brokered the Dayton Peace Accord. Mr.Holbrooke spent his life as a diplomat and he was currently the special representative to Afghanistan and Pakistan for the Obama administration. The Dayton Peace accord was a complex and delicate deal to broker that involved generations of ethnic divides and land disputes after the break-up of Yugoslavia. My thoughts and prayers go out to Mr. Holbrooke’s family and my admiration for a man who truly helped change the world for the better.

We all have the capacity to improve the world around us. We just need the courage to speak up and demand change.

Not too long ago, I had my own “aha moment” when I realized that if I wanted to change the world I better start with me. I realized that I had an OBLIGATION to speak up for others. I began that obligation by directing my first film, “Forgotten Voices: Women In Bosnia”. The film deals with women and the aftermath of war. As you read my open letter, you will see that I had no training in this area, just a desire for change.

“Forgotten Voices:Women in Bosnia” is now available on DVD at www.ForgottenVoicesFilm.com. In my personal opinion it’s a much better holiday gift than a pair of socks because the sharing of stories does change the world we live in and socks just get lost.

 

FORGOTTEN VOICES: WOMEN IN BOSNIA

 

A personal note from director Jennifer Rawlings

 

M-17 is the two lane road that takes you from Sarajevo to Mostar, Bosnia it is a twisty, jagged, perilous road . One thing you should know before you make the drive from Sarajevo to Mostar: Bosnian drivers are like New York City cab drivers that love to speed.

But let me put this in reverse a little and tell you how I wound up on this blood stained road to Mostar full of children selling honey.

Not too long ago, I was sitting outside by my pool in Sherman Oaks sipping an ice cold glass of tea with fresh mint and reading an article in the Los Angeles Times about a mother in Darfur whose child was dying or starvation. I started to cry.

My teenage daughter Courtney rolled her eyes at me and said:  “What are you crying about, Mom?”

“Oh, it’s just so sad what goes in the world and how people suffer…..”

“Tssssh” said Courtney  “ you can’t just sit around crying. What are you going to do about it?’

This question made my head spin. Do about it? What could I do about it? The world is messed up. People are starving, suffering, dying. Do about it????? Don’t people always just turn their backs and say it’s not our problem?

I need to swim some laps , refresh my Ice tea, maybe have a glass of wine. I need to get Courtney off this line of questioning.

I’m a stand –up comedian, a mother of four, a hick from Kansas. How could I possibly do anything????

Courtney’s question bothered me all day and all night.

On Monday I called two friends to see if they wanted to finance a documentary about women in Bosnia and the aftermath of war and it’s effects on society.

Did I mention that I am a stand-up comic?

I had never even shot a home movie before. Amazingly, my friends jumped on my learning curve of film making and agreed to finance my documentary……they must smoke crack. I’ll get them into rehab after the check clears.

 

Since 1999 I have been traveling to US Military Bases around the world to entertain the troops with my stand-up comedy act. I have done shows in Iraq, Afghanistan, Bosnia, Kosovo, Macedonia, Japan, Korea, Germany, England, Iceland, Italy, Bahrain, Kuwait, United Arab Emirates, Kwajelean , Guam, Hawaii, Alaska , Qatar , and Djibouti Africa. I am sure that there are some countries I am leaving out.

I have also recognized thorough my travels to war zones that war continues to destroy lives long after the last bullets are fired. On back-to-back tours I was sent to Iraq and then to the Balkans. I was haunted by the fact that parts of Sarajevo still look like areas of Baghdad even though the war had ended in Bosnia over ten years ago.

I didn’t actually know anyone in Bosnia but I did know that there were stories to tell.

I bought a Panasonic DVX 100A and a plane ticket. With no crew or any knowledge of what the heck I was doing I went to Sarajevo.

There are two things that have struck me most in all of while filming. One is the beauty of the human spirit and it’s ability to persevere thru the most horrific of circumstances. The second, I am continually moved by stories about the kindness of strangers in the most dangerous of situations and aggrieved by the cruelty of neighbors.

The women in this film changed my life. I hope their stories stay with you.

Thank you for taking the time to watch “Forgotten Voices:Women in Bosnia” and thank you Courtney for the challenge.

 

Peace,

Jennifer Rawlings

info@forgottenvoicesfilm.com

 

THE KID IN THE MALL= THE SOLDIER IN IRAQ

By Jennifer Rawlings

( originally published in hybridmom)

My kids are ecstatic that they don’t have school on Thursday. The teller at the bank had a broad smile on her face yesterday as she told me about her plans for November 11^th, and I am sure that my mail carrier won’t mind giving his back a break on Thursday from the large number of catalogs that he is sticking in everyone’s mailboxes as the holiday season approaches. Thursday, November 11^th is a day off for schools, banks, post offices and other state and federal employees. November 11^th is Veterans Day, also known as Armistice Day or Remembrance Day in other countries.

Originally Armistice Day here in the United States, the day of remembrance dates back to 1919 when the United States and it’s allies in World War I set aside the 11^th hour, in the 11^th day, in the 11^th month to commemorate the end of World War I and honor the war veterans. In many countries there is a two-minute moment of silence at 11A.M. It wasn’t until 1953 when a shop owner in Emporia, Kansas (my home state) campaigned to have the holiday honor veterans from all wars, not just World War I. His campaign was successful and the holiday name changed to Veterans Day.

To my kids, Veterans Day is a “day off ”; a day to sleep in, lounge around the house and maybe catch a movie, or stay at home and bake cookies. I can’t blame them. That’s how I used to interpret Veterans Day, until I started traveling to war zones to entertain the troops.

I have been traveling to war zones for 10 years and have performed in over 300 shows for the military. I will never ever see Veterans Day as a “day off ” again.

There are nearly 25 million veterans in the United States: Men and women from all walks of life, and all branches of the military that have served our country.

There are approximately 200, 000 soldiers currently serving in Iraq and Afghanistan. Nearly TWO MILLION troops have seen the horrific face of war since 2001. Many of these soldiers were still in their teens when they packed up their rucksacks and left high-school bedrooms full of music posters and prom corsages to go to boot camp. They traded a twin bed with a quilt that grandma made for a sleeping bag in a tent, or sometimes a ditch. Instead of a book bag hanging off their slight teenage shoulders, they are carrying around an M-16 that is often as tall as they are.

Nearly 7000 soldiers have died in these two wars and tens of thousands more have been severely injured. An estimated 400,000 veterans suffer from post-traumatic stress disorder and another 90,000 soldiers suffer from traumatic brain injury.

If you need to put a face on what a soldier looks like: look at the teenagers at the mall with signs of teenage acne and baggy pants – that teen could be the next veteran off to fight a war.

Honor our Veterans by taking a moment of silence on Thursday; a moment to reflect on the sacrifice of so many brave men and women who serve our country.

 

THE GENERAL, THE PRIVATE, AND THE FAST-FOOD

BY JENNIFER RAWLINGS

( originally published in Change.org)

THE GENERAL, THE PRIVATES AND THE FAST FOOD

BY JENNIFER RAWLINGS

I love American soldiers. I hate war, but I love the men and woman in uniform. American soldiers come from all walks of life and many of them dedicate their lives to the service of others.

Currently there are approximately 200,000 troops serving in Iraq and Afghanistan.

They risk their lives every single day. Many of the more dangerous jobs fall on the shoulders of the privates and specialists. In most case, these troops range in age from 18-22.

As I have said many times before, I have been entertaining the troops for over ten years. I have been to both Iraq and Afghanistan and the violence in both countries is terrifying. The soldiers sleep in tents, connexes, c-huts, b-huts, and sometimes in ditches. Hot showers are a luxury and so are the porta-pottys.

These soldiers live on the extreme. There is the fear and chaos of a firefight accompanied by the doldrums and depression of 365 days spent sleeping in a tent and the monotony of down time.

Entertainment is exceedingly important in helping with the moral of the troops. Soldiers mark their yearlong deployments with entertainment highlights: Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders, Comedy Show, country singer, or a meet and greet with a famous actor.

The days are further broken down by smaller markers: breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Mealtime is critical bonding and social time for the troops. There is always a long line in the chow hall during mealtime and the soldiers are NOT lining up because the food is good. They are lining up because it gives them a few moments of “normal” during their anomalistic day, week, month, and year.

On some of the larger bases there are fast-food outlets such as Burger King, Popeye’s chicken, and pizza. They are not store fronts like you see in a city. Often the outlets are in tents or a truck.  For many soldiers these fast-food trucks help preserve their spirits.

For a young soldier in Afghanistan, away from home, lonely and tired, a double whopper with cheese and some greasy french-fries represents comfort. The taste and texture of the burger as it is washed down with a soda is familiar. It’s the same burger they used to eat in high school with their buddies. And for a fleeting moment the young soldier is blanketed in the comfort of familiarity. For a few minutes over lunch the nineteen year-old soldier feels normal and safe. After lunch the soldier picks up his M-16 and goes back to work.

General McChrystal shut down many of these fast-food outlets on the bases because he saw it as an example of “American excess” .

I couldn’t disagree more with General McChrystal. The fast-food outlets are like an “American flag” wrapped around the soldiers. It’s a symbol that helps the soldiers find the strength to make it through another day.  It’s not about the food, its about the familiar and anything that can be done to bring one moment of joy to the men and women in Iraq and Afghanistan should be done.

I read Michael Hastings article in Rolling Stone with absolute shock and awe of General McChrystal’s behavior. He is definitely an intriguing man who I liked and disliked at the same time. It is a fantastic article that ultimately ended McChrystals career.

PERSONAL NOTE

I have met a number of Generals and Sergeant Majors (highest rank on the enlisted side) and there is one quality that is shared on both the officer and enlisted sides of the military: these men and women care about and love these young soldiers as much as they do their own children. A thirty-year veteran in the military is no longer working for the paycheck. They are working for the troops.

I have never met General McChrystal and I am sorry for he and his family.

There are a number of pundits that have questioned whether or not the general should have been forced to resign over his comments. For those pundits, I have pasted the UNIFORM CODE OF MILITARY JUSTICE:

888. ART. 88. CONTEMPT TOWARD OFFICIALS

Any commissioned officer who uses contemptuous words against the President, the Vice President, Congress, the Secretary of Defense, the Secretary of a military department, the Secretary of Transportation, or the Governor or legislature of any State, Territory, Commonwealth, or possession in which he is on duty or present shall be punished as a court-martial may direct.

THE HIGHS AND LOWS OF MOTHERHOOD

THE HIGH AND LOWS OF MOTHERHOOD

BY JENNIFER RAWLINGS

( originally published in Hybridmom.com)

A few years ago, we started a dinnertime tradition at our house called “Highs and Lows”. I stole this ritual from my friends Alex and Jennifer who live in Northern California.

“Highs and Lows” involves going around the table one at a time and everyone sharing their “highs and lows” of the day. For example, last night at dinner Elijah’s high was that he got to miss math class and his low was that Noah drank all the root beer.  My high was swimming and my husband cooking dinner, and my low was that one of my kids mumbled under their breath that they hated me when I insisted that they clean their bedroom. My husband reported a “no low day” and around the table we went.

I said to my kids that my low was the “I hate you remark” but in reality my low for the last several days has been unbelievable stress. Not the kind of stress where it is one thing in particular, but the kind of stress where it is everything in general. Stress from family, exes, and end of school year. Stress from work, deadlines and opportunities. Stress that wakes you in the middle of the night to remind you of the pile of unfinished business you still have on your desk.

The other night my husband and I were watching TV in bed and he placed his fingers along my forehead to smooth my furrowed brow. I didn’t even realize I was frowning. “Great” I thought, “ I am stressed and wrinkled…not fair”

Well this morning when I went for a swim I had a mini revelation. I can choose to not be crippled by stress or instead I can decide to be productive, loving and full of joy. In other words, I can practice what I preach to my kids.

Whenever my kids or my friends come to me with a problem I tell them that they need to approach their troubles “ bird by bird”, this referring to the Anne Lamott book of the same title.  In her book, she tells this story “Thirty years ago my older brother, who was ten years old at the time, was trying to get a report on birds written that he’d had three months to write. It was due the next day. We were out at our family cabin in Bolinas, and he was at the kitchen table close to tears, surrounded by binder paper and pencils and unopened books on birds, immobilized by the hugeness of the task ahead. Then my father sat down beside him, put his arm around my brother’s shoulder, and said, ‘Bird by bird, buddy.  Just take it bird by bird.”

It’s so much easier to share this anecdote with my friends and my kids when they are struggling, than to “live it” myself when I am feeling overwhelmed. I guess that is why at least once a day we all need to remind ourselves that life is full of highs and lows and if we face our problems “bird my bird” maybe we will get lucky and score the occasional “no low day”.

Off to tackle the blue jay followed by the hummingbird.

A MOM IN HAITI

A MOM IN HAITI     ( originally published in hybridmom.com)

BY JENNIFER RAWLINGS

I didn’t know what to expect when I went to Haiti a couple of weeks ago. Of course, I knew that is was the poorest country in the Western hemisphere and that the 7.0 earthquake had further devastated the country’s already crumbling infrastructure. I knew that hundreds and thousands of people were living in tent cities in and around Port-Au- Prince. I also knew that Haiti, population 9 million, had over 380,000 orphans BEFORE the earthquake. UNICEF estimates that the number has now doubled. Only a handful of these orphans are lucky enough to live in an orphanage. Most of them are forced to live on the street.

The poverty in Haiti is almost unimaginable. Even before the earthquake most of the country lived without indoor plumbing- they use bowls and bags to dispose of waste. There is very little access to clean water and most people don’t have electricity. Basic healthcare is not readily available and simple diseases go untreated and turn into lifelong disabilities. There is no public education in Haiti and only those of means can send their children to school. The median income in Haiti is less than $100 a month. So very few children can afford to attend private school, resulting in generation after generation of Haitians that cannot read or write.

Everywhere you look in Haiti there are piles and piles of gray, decomposing garbage. These mountains of trash are several feet high and covered in flies and maggots. Often I would see a small child (a toddler), with no underwear or pants on, alonw, digging thru the garbage looking for something to eat, or to sell.

As I visited the tent cities the story remained the same. Children were alone sitting in the mud, with no supervision and nowhere to go. Rape is a huge problem not only for women in the tent cities but also for the helpless and hungry children.

All the orphanages seem to be filled to capacity and if the UNICEF estimates are correct, approximately 15% of Haiti’s population is orphans. In the orphanage that I visited, no child was turned away due to a medical condition.

There were children that I visited that will spend the rest of their lives in a wheelchair due to cranial swelling. In most countries in the world, this condition would have been treated at birth with simple antibiotics. Now, instead of a simple solution, these kids are permanently handicapped and will lead very short lives.

Many of the birth defects that I saw in the orphanage could have been prevented with simple pre-natal care or medical treatment at birth. A young girl about six, lying in the shade on a stretcher had severely curled limbs. She couldn’t speak, walk, or even sit. She communicated with me by tugging on my necklace.

I held a little baby, Daniel, that was born with webbed hands and webbed feet. His eyes were uneven and couldn’t track. Like most babies he was fascinated with my sunglasses and my necklace and he tried to grab them with his paddle like hands- but he couldn’t grasp hold of the strands- he had no fingers.

What I found on my trip to Haiti was that the disaster facing Haiti was not the earthquake- it was the man-made plague of poverty.

HAITI DAY THREE…….THE ORPHANAGE

DAY THREE HAITI….THE ORPAHNGE

BY JENNIFER RAWLINGS      ( originally published in Change.org) ( photos courtesy John Fugelsang)

I woke up at 6:00 A.M to make my way to the porta-potty. The sun was already blazing hot. It was my third and final day on one of the most meaningful trips of my life.

There was a long line for breakfast that morning. It was one of the last days they were going to be serving a hot breakfast at the base – steak and eggs was on the menu. Pretty soon it was going to be dry cereal, pop-tarts, or MRE’s scrambled eggs that have a very unnatural shelf life of three years and don’t need to be refrigerated.

There was no breeze in the chow tent and I was already starting to sweat. I picked at my eggs and sipped my coffee. I wasn’t at breakfast for the food; I was there for the conversation. John Fugelsang and I were eating breakfast with a large group of soldiers and airmen.

I asked the men and women sitting at breakfast what the most meaningful part of their deployment had been. “The chance to help others” was the universal response from everyone at the table. The other common thread was the pride in the work they were doing in Haiti.

John and I were going with a group of soldiers to an orphanage. Our leader  was “Chief Jerry”. He is Chief Master Sergeant in the Air Force- the highest enlisted rank. Jerry goes to the orphanages as often as he can to help out in any way that he can. He brought along several bags of candy to give to the kids.

In square miles, Haiti is about the same size as Maryland. The population is approximately 9 million, slightly larger than New York City. However there are a staggering number of orphanages: well over 120 full time/licensed orphanages. This does not include all the makeshift orphanages that take in children. Sadly, the number of orphanages is not nearly enough to meet the need. Most orphans are forced to live on the streets by themselves.

It’s difficult to pinpoint the exact number of orphans in Haiti. It was estimated that before the earthquake there were 360,000 orphans. Many experts believe that the number of orphans has doubled since the devastating earthquake.

A cheery thirteen-foot wall with a simple gate was the first indication that I was visiting someplace very special in Haiti. The New Life Children’s Home (est.1977) was a short distance from the Port-Au Prince airport.

A large, shady fruit tree is one of the first things you notice when you arrive on the property. There are several plantation style buildings with open doors to greet you. The first building I walked into was a large assembly room with a stage and a ramp to the stage for wheelchairs. The soldiers built this ramp as well as the railings. This room is used for assemblies, church, and for medical and dental clinics.

Next was the kitchen. It was spotless, despite serving three meals a day to over a hundred children and the staff. Many of the staff members grew up surrounded by these walls as orphans themselves.

The kids all go to school on the premises; I walked into an art class where five teenage boys were painting with watercolors. The paintings were beautiful and diverse. Each boy was working on a different landscape or setting. The boys worked peacefully side by side with one another absorbed in their art.

In the back of the orphanage is a playground and a large shady area.  Young girls played on the slide and boys were chasing one another on the merry-go-around.  Several children in wheel chairs sat on the porch in the shade. New Life does not turn children away due to medical needs or conditions. Sadly, many of these children are profoundly handicapped  with problems that could have been addressed at birth with simple antibiotics or other treatments. But since there is no basic medical care in Haiti a simple problem at birth manifests itself into a life long struggle.

There was a young girl about six years of age. She was lying on a stretcher against the wall. Her limbs were curled and brittle, like that of an old woman.  She couldn’t speak, but she communicated with me by pulling on my necklace. I shooed a fly away from her face and she tugged at my necklace to hold me there.

Two of the boys in wheelchairs had severely swollen heads. I am told that in most countries this condition would have been treated at birth with antibiotics. Years have passed and now it is too late to treat them. They will spend their short lives confined to a wheelchair.

Another boy, ten, in an orange shirt and a huge smile gave me a hug. He lost both of his parents and his right leg to the earthquake.

Daniel, probably nine months old, is a success story at the orphanage. He was born with webbed hands and webbed feet, his eyes are crooked and cannot track. The day after I held Daniel he was flown to the United States for surgery. He cannot be adopted at the time but the Haitian government has given him permission to leave for medical treatment,

Time was flying by too quickly. I wanted to spend the whole day with the kids but our flight was leaving soon so we had to start saying our goodbyes.

Chief Jerry took out the candy and the kids clamored around him waiting to get a piece. They pulled on his jacket and hugged his legs. It was  apparent from the smile on Jerry’s face that the orphanage and seeing these kids has been the most meaningful part of his deployment.  The kids came back for seconds and thirds embracing a moment of “normal” in their world that has been painted with grief.