Saying good-bye

My bags are packed, I checked in online for my first flight tomorrow morning, I've cleaned my room, and given last minute cards to my housemates. The (early)unch bell will be ringing soon and I will have to shut down my laptop and pack it into my backpack.

I thought it would be appropriate to use this post to share a letter of sorts that I read last night to the group of people I've been living with for the past 3 months. They threw me a fabulous going away party (Despedido) with great food, a presentation, gifts, cards and verbal thank-you/blessings. I can't think of a better way to have spent my last night here in Butuan.

Farewell letter:

To the “kids” at PDK:

Thank you for our classroom time. It was as challenging for me as it was for you. Thank you for putting up with my distaste for certain foods and laughing when I tried to say certain words. Thank you for your joy. Thank you for showing me – for being a real life example – of what kids can do when they don’t give up and they put their hope and trust in the right place – and with God.

To my housemates:

Thank you for your countless hours of translating; answering my never-ending questions; running errands with me and trying to explain all the things that just didn’t make sense to me. Beg – thank you for keeping our CR so clean! Marz – thank you for keeping me laughing.  Thank you both for helping make every day here an adventure.  I heard a lot of laughter coming from your room during my time here and it will be a fond memory for me after I get home.

To Ate Sonia:

“My goodness”.  You have been my little angel here. Thank you for cooking me special meals; making my early morning coffee; bringing home pineapple and bananas for me; checking to make sure I’m ok; dragging me around town with you; helping make my shopping experience so much more fun. We have “big plans” – you and me – and I won’t forget them or you.

To Teresa:

Thank you for allowing me the opportunity to serve here at PDK and in Butuan. Thank you for helping make my other outreach opportunities happen. Thank you for sharing your coffee, pizza and other “special treats”. Thank you for your willingness to open up your home, your office, your staff and your life here in Butuan.

To Butuan:

Thank you for making every day here an adventure! Thank you for allowing me to show compassion. Thank you for showing me beauty and ugliness – all at the same time. This place (maybe the people?) gets to you…

a little taste of freedom

Before I even got here, I was told that I would not be allowed to go anywhere by myself. I didn't really think about it at the time, but once I got here I understood why - even if I didn't like it. I am "geographically challenged" (Mara is laughing right now as she reads this) so thinking I could get anywhere and back initially seemed impossible. It is also very easy to be taken advantage of as a (white female) foreigner.

As the weeks went on, I learned the main roads (it's a small town) and because I've always learned my way around with landmarks, I began recognizing things like the circle roundabout with the statue, the big hotel with the pool, the backside of the public market, Jollibee and of course Guysano. Halfway  into my time here, I did ride home by myself on a few occasions (and from school on the days I taught). I had also gone into a store by myself a few times when running errands with staff trying to make the best use of our time.

I had several errands to run today and due to some staffing issues, Teresa decided to let me go by myself. Woo hoo! I had to take several different trykes and the bank is not within walking distance to Guysano (mall). Well, god was smiling down on me today because I had honest drivers who did not try to trick me with location or fare, and I did not get lost! I even got in and out of the Kodak store without waiting in line and as never happened before, their quote of "ready in an hour" was correct. My photos were waiting for me when I got back to the store.

Maybe I've been here long enough that the "just got here clueless foreigner" look has (almost) been wiped away...

joke's on me

We spent the day at an island called Duka Bay. I was told that duka means sleepy and I can only think that they would use a name like this because it is a very relaxing - and beautiful - place.

It was Sonia's birthday and this is one of her favorite places. She grew up on an island so given a choice she will always spend the day by and in the water. This is her (on the left) -  along with another staff person. I managed to capture a sweet moment with a baby left behind at PDK by one of the street kids who decided life on the street was better. This little girl LOVES to swim!

Oh - back to the joke. As we left the island, Sonia (and Teresa) mentioned that we needed to stop at this place so I could see the giant bananas and pineapples. Apprently this little village was famous for the largest bananas and pineapples in the Philippines. I was excited - having enjoyed amazing fresh fruit here and so many varieties of bananas. I got my camera ready and was looking out the window right and left as they each tried to remember which turn to make and exactly where to go. Imagine my surprise when we pulled up to this:

Clearly I need to think of a practical joke I can play before I leave...

a boy named Gilbert

I have spent 2+ months of Thursdays meeting, interacting with and handing our warm food to the streetkids here. Some of them I see every week and know them by name, some I haven't seen since the night we handed out Christmas bags. Many of these kids faces will remain in the forefront of my brain - even if I don't know all of their stories or can't remember their names.

I sat in an upstairs restaurant yesterday with a perfect view of one of the main intersections of town. While we were waiting for our food, I watched the truck with the pig in the back pull up to the feed store; the little boy walk out of the store (and his mother's sight) so he could relieve himself on the curb front. I also saw a group of 9-10 year old "rugby boys" that we see most Thursday evenings. They were standing in broad daylight sniffing away - getting high. I saw the storekeeper shoo them away, then as their "high" sunk in, I watched them playing a russian roulette of sorts in the middle of traffic. They ended by jumping on the back of a jeepney - another game to see how far they could get before the driver noticed them.

I've seen Gilbert numerous times during trips into town running errands or having my staff dates. He always recognized me and greeted me with a "hello my good friend". He never smelled of rugby and always appeared to be working.

Last night, Gilbert (possibly a nick name or name he's decided to call himself) gave me his smile as he said "hello my good friend". For some reason - maybe because it was my last opportunity - I decided to engage him in conversation and with the help of a translator - listened to him share his story. His mother and father are separated; they used to chop wood and sell it for money, but one day he returned with wood to find them gone. His mother now lives 7 hours away and his father - he thinks - is in Manila. Gilbert got teary as he told my  translator "I don't understand why they left me". Without much thought, I touched his arm and said "I don't know if you'll ever make sense of it or if you'll ever figure out why they left. Sometimes our parents make bad decisions or decisions that don't make any sense to us as kids. And it may not seem like it, but I am sure your parents still love you".
Gilbert is 18 (so he says) and comes across in a typical quiet, cool demeanor. But as we continued our conversation, that facade changed. He told me he does not do rugby and works hard - trying to save money. He has an aunt in Carmen (less than 2 hours away) and I encouraged him to try to get there. He also mentioned a sister who is a Nun. This woman sees him on occasion and apparently has given him a bible (I had not mentioned anything yet about a bible or jesus for that matter). He almost chuckled as he mentioned a verse he had read that "said something about do not be lazy".

He looked at me with tears and said "if only someone could give me money for my education". I told him that I would pray about that and he should do the same.  I told Gilbert that we have a god who does crazy things - like sending a white woman to Butuan to find him and look him in the eye to tell him that HE MATTERS; even if his parents have left him, the god he read about in the bible has not left him and in fact has a purpose for his life. He let me hug him before we all left the plaza and I whispered in his ear again - "you matter".

I always think that I am drawn to the little girls and get so excited when I get a chance to talk to or play with them. Interestingly enough, these encounters keep happening with teenage boys. As I've said before, our god has a sense of humor as well...

shoe shopping in the Philippines

So, I was really excited for my staff date today. I was taking Sonia (she's my age - lots of fun to be around)out for lunch, but she was taking me to a couple specific places to buy gifts to take back home with me. Sonia is THE person to take shopping not only because she loves to shop, but she knows the good places to go, and knows shopkeepers well enough to get wholesale prices. She is also the best bargain/negotatior around.

For some reason I decided to ask her if she had a favorite shoe store. Ok, honestly, Sonia loves shoes - as much as my Mara does, and I was hoping I might just luck out and find something. Well, I knew the shoes would be cheap, just not sure they would have anything in my size.

Oh.My.Goodness. It was shoe heaven - so many shoes for under $5 US! I was so excited I had to sit down, then started texting Mara to see if she wanted Tom's and oh my if I don't stop I'll end up having to pay for a 2nd suitcase just for all the shoes I would buy!

The excitement turned to wonder when I followed the girl back to the counter to show her another pair to look for in my size. it turns out, there is no 'back room" where the shoes are warehoused. The shoes are kept in an upstairs room - accessible by a hole in the ceiling of the shore store. There are ropes hanging down from this hole, but instead of using the ropes to tie around some kind of contraption that would hold shoe boxes, they are thrown down onto the floor. Literally - I saw shoe boxes coming down from this square shaped hole in the ceiling. I would have laughed, but was too surprised to speak...

The girls on the sales floor speak into an old fashioned michrophone, stating the style number and shoe size; then they all wait around this area behind the counter (where the hole is located) for their shoe boxes to drop onto the floor.

Like I've said before - everything here is an adventure - even shoe shopping!

ps - turns out they did have several styles in my size

best love letters I could have received on Valentines Day

On my last day at school, I collected about a dozen hand written letters on yellow legal pad paper, small white notebook paper and even a spongebob squarepants note pad. I think I'll keep them together in an envelope and take them back to the office. Next time I'm stressed about something, I'll pull them out and read them out loud to myself  (hearing their accents and picturing their smiling faces). Here are three of the notes verbatim:

"Dear Ms. Wendy:
Thank you for all, I have learn many things about characterstic and be a good friend, love of God. I never forget you, I hope you come back soon. Thank you thank you for all. I LOVE YOU MS. WENDY
Your pupil,
Geraldine Burdeos"

"Dear Ms. Wendy:
Thank you for the love that you give to us and thank you for teaching with us to be a good child. I hope that you come back soon and teach us. I only say to you I LOVE YOU SO MUCH. Until here... Thank you"
Your pupil,
Joanna Rose

"Dear Ms. Windy:
Thank you for teaching us about Jesus, and I hope that you come back soon, and don't forget to pray every day. I LOVE U MRS. WINDY."

...there is something to be said for handwritten notes...

unwanted attention...

...is something I'm not sure I could ever get used to while I'm here in Butuan. I can't go ANYWHERE in this little city without getting stared at. I have seen other white people ("foreigners") here, but they've all been men over 50 and that's another story for another day probably better written by someone else.

It's not just staring, it's having people stop in their tracks to drop-jaw look at me; following me down the street asking me my name and if I'm alone; trykes and motorcycles honking and asking for a ride. It took me a few weeks to stop wondering if I had a spot somewhere I hadn't noticed, or makeup smeared or something out of place to make people stare - and to realize that my height and eye color alone was out of the ordinary...

When I go to the store, the clerks follow me through the store and grab co-workers for a looksie. People walk around the other side of the aisle to get a second look. Even our weekly hospital outreach turns into a stare contest and I notice people peeking into whatever room I happen to be visiting in.

Ok, this does have it's advantages. Yesterday it was pouring rain and the line outside my bank's ATM machine was almost a block long. When the bank's security guard saw me, he broke into the line, and had me cut into the next spot to use the ATM (yes, it was a little ackward).

I must admit, the attention from the kids is fun. These girls live in the neighborhood, and as soon as they saw me get off the tryke yesterday to walk down the lane to the compound, they came running after me:

They wanted to "come to my house" for the day. Now this, I could probably get used to~

finding satisfaction in unexpected places

Spending time in the classroom with the 3 (former street)kids who live on the compound has been challenging, fun, slightly frustrating, and admittedly - satisfying.

I spend Tuesday mornings with routine subjects like spelling, math and reading comprehension. Thursday mornings are "mine" - where I've taken the kids on an hour long "think outside the box" time. We've covered things like Communication Skills, Time Management and Conflict Resolution.

I got permission to take the kids out on weekly field trips on Wednesday mornings and decided to go to the library. For some reason I thought it would be a good idea for the kids to tackle a research project.

After an hour long conversation and pulling teeth, each of the kids chose a topic they wanted to learn more about. To be honest, the library time in and of itself was a challenge. The book selection is limited, there is no copier machine and the magazines are very outdated. I also spent most of my time helping the kids find resources since their language (and resource) skills are limited.

Three weeks later, we decided that everyone had sufficient material gathered. In typical teenage fashion, each one of these kids threw their own version of a "tantrum" yesterday when I made them spend the morning putting their materials together for their presentations - including the excuse that her eyelids hurt when she read so much. Not surpisingly, when she finished, she looked at me and said "I did it" - to which I replied "of course you did".

This morning was report time. The director came to classs and they were asked to present in english - which made them all the more nervous. The kids drew numbers to see who had to go first. I think I was a little nervous myself - or maybe just anxious to see how this whole thing was going to turn out.

I was so proud of these kids. Each one of them remembered to speak on their 3 main points, used visual aids, and answered questions when asked for more information.

Maybe they really are paying attention in class...

teacher for a day

So, there I was sitting in the Principal's office. She is an older woman, quiet, stoic and seemingly serious.  When she asked me where I live, I told her Utah, which she responded to by telling me that she "is a member of the church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints". I smiled and nodded. I couldn't understand the conversation happening around me but I heard something about "catechism" and "6th grade classrooms".

At that moment, I only remember feeling panic. Ok, maybe it was part flashback - because I was sitting in the principal's office without knowing what the outcome would be. But clearly I am not catholic, wasn't raised catholic and don't feel trained to teach catechism classes! I calmed myself down thinking that I would be leaving soon and wouldn't have to see these people again if it was a total disaster.

I left the office after watching the Principal sign something. As soon as we got outside, Aizel explained to me that I had been asked to rotate through each of the five 6th grade classrooms for their morning catechism classes. What that really means here is "Values" class.

There is no separation of church and state in the Phillipines so even in a public school you are allowed to teach christian education. I was told that I could talk about God, speak from the bible and even pray in the classroom - in a public school!

The interesting twist is that this school is located in an area of town with a high Muslim population. About 40% of the students who attend this school are Muslim.

As soon as I got home, I sent an email off to some of my friends on staff with AC at my church. It was an SOS of sorts, asking if they could please send me some curriculum geared towards 6th graders that had to do with Values.

Of course, any of us who are parents have had practice talking to our own children about the importance of good manners, being polite and speaking truth. This gave me a little bit more confidence. As luck would have it, Gwen came through and sent me some great materials to use with the kids (including an exercise that I could have them go through).

As it turns out, the class time was very enjoyable. It was a great experience for me - watching the kids respond, watching muslim kids pray in class, and of course admitting that I had worried too much about this "assignment" that I had been given.

I'll be back in the classroom(s) again next week!

Halo-Halo

What do you get when you mix shaved ice and evaporated milk with various Ingredients like boiled garbanzo beans, sugar fruit (kaong), fresh coconut, plantains caramelized in sugar, jackfruit (langkâ), gulaman, tapioca, yam, and crushed corn flakes?

I was skeptical, but in keeping with my "adventurous spirit" here and not wanting to miss out on anything, I decided to try a bite.

Needless to say, there was not a drop left and I can understand why this Filipino dessert is so popular here! Btw, in case you're wondering, "halo" is tagalog for "mix"...

"Outreach"

I looked up the definition of outreach out of curiosity and I found this:

"A systematic attempt to provide services beyond conventional limits, as to particular segments of a community". I've been thinking about this because I have been involved in so many activities here that are called "outreach". This past week I participated in two new outreaches.

Last Friday, I got to help facilitate a Youth Program Outreach. There is a Vineyard Church here in Butuan who set up a campus right across the street from the local high school. Every Friday from 4:00-5:00, teenagers (or "youth" as they are called here) are invited to hang out in a place that is welcoming, comfortable and does not look "churchy". We had 16 students show up and we went from games to music to study. I was pleasantly surprised with how much sharing happened; almost everyone participated. For me personally, it was a nice change to spend time with a different group of people than I've been living with the past 2 months - to see groups of teenagers who are not street kids. It gave me another new perspective on things here.

Sunday, we made a 2 hour drive to a place called Del Monte. I was told we would be leading a Tribal Outreach. Unfortunately there was signficant flooding due to several days in a row of rain so we were not able to go into their community. The alternative was to set up our program at the church that many of them attend. The downside to this was that the number of kids who attended was much lower than we expected. The kids who live here at PDK (former street kids) had put together a 90 minute program complete with puppets, skit, dance, testimony. They did a great job. I'm always amazed with the effect puppet shows have on kids. The children in the audience did not understand english, but when the puppets popped up over the sheet, all the kids were shrieking with delight.

Beautiful people, Beautiful place, wonderful day.

everything is an adventure here...

...visiting 3 stores to buy kleenex only to be directed to the toilet tissue; stepped into a nice pharmacy, asked for "facial" tissue and was handed a trial size packet from behind the counter...

...going out to lunch can take 3 hours beginning with the walk down our gravel road to wait for a "tryke" which can take 5-15 minutes depending on time of day; some pedi cabs and trykes don't travel down the main road into the city, so you may have to transfer to a jeepney and walk a block or two (after transferring from pedi cab to jeepney) to reach your final destination...

...ordering off of a menu does not mean you'll get what you read on your menu - turns out if something isn't available at the market that day, the cook simply leaves it off of your plate (but you're not told that in advance)...

...the public library does not allow you to check out books; they advertise the ability to check out periodicals, but the "officer in charge" has to approve who checks out items and the officer's hours are not the same as the hours the library is open nor do they know when that person will arrive at the library...

...not knowing the language places me into a childlike situation every time we go out - not always sure of what is being discussed, why people are laughing, whether or not we're all getting out of the car, how long we'll be staying...

I'm just along for the ride~

Thursday night Streetkid Outreach

It's the same drill every Thursday. We spend 3 hours during the day cooking the rice and "porridge" (chicken, carrots, onions, flavoring) then filling small cellophane bags with this warm meal. We pack up 50 bags of food and 50 bags filled with drinking water. These styro coolers get loaded into the back of the van and we take off around 6:30.

Our first stop is The Plaza; 2nd stop is the Market; 3rd stop is the (bus)Terminal and 4th is close to the Bridge. These places were chosen because it's where the streetkids typically hang out at nighttime.

Once we're in the van and in town, every Thursday evening is different. Last night we got to the Plaza and no one was hanging out - except for a few teenagers we see every week. We knew that might be the case since they are currently rennovating the Plaza grounds and police were all over the place. Street kids learn fast to stay away from police... These teens told us that the kids were probably hiding out at Guysano (their version of a dept store) sniffing rugby.

The Market and Bus Terminal was empty of streetkids. It was also fairly quiet, but we spotted a group of "tribal people" and stopped to give them food and water. As it turned out, one of the little girls squatting there with her family had a birthday that day so we sang happy birthday. I reminded myself to fill my pockets with something to hand out (other than money) for this type of occasion. We did sing happy birthday to her as a group and prayed over her before we left.

We decided to go on foot, walking down the streets where the rest of my team knew that streetkids usually hung out. For no apparent reason, we could not find them anywhere. We expect this on nights that it rains because they won't come out in rain. I've heard stories that police occasionally do "round-ups" where they decide to clean up their city and haul kids in or simply get rid of them. I put that thought out of my head.

I see children everywhere - unattended, playing in the street, dressed in rags and in some cases filthy -  but am told "they're not streetkids". I ride home in silence trying to process this Thursday night outreach...

BYO - well everything, quite frankly

I've been going to the Provincial Hospital every Monday night, but still can't get over their set-up. It baffles the mind... I understand that it's the Philippines and I understand that it's a public, government hospital.

I don't understand why they staff nurses. Last night was the first time I actually saw a nurse enter a room to do something - she had 2 shots in her hand. I usually see the staff sitting around a table that is behind the main entrance, or sitting at the various stations in each hallway - seemingly busy with paperwork.

I don't understand why the place is filthy. The windows and screens are caked with dirt and dust; floors show no signs of having been scrubbed and polished; dust is everywhere; oxygen tanks are ancient. Don't get me started on the CR (bathroom)...

I don't understand why a boy who broke his leg has been in this place for 4 months. Maybe it's because they didn't set it properly, or because he can't elevate his leg, or because there is no such thing as physical therapy (or it's not an option for him because he can't afford it) or because he can't afford crutches.

I don't understand why you are required to bring EVERYTHING you need to the hospital if you have to stay here. NOTHING is provided, which means you bring your own sheets, pillows, blankets. There is NO food, so your family/provider must bring your 3 meals per day. NO water is provided so whatever you drink must be brought in. Bedpans - no such thing. Forget having your forehead washed with cool water - there are no washcloths and no basins to be found. We did find an ice machine, but it costs money, so forget getting an ice pack in this hospital.

What I do understand is that everyone deserves a little dignity - some quality time and a smile. So, in the midst of this dark place, I can squelch my frustration, put on a smile and spend a few minutes with someone who had the great  misfortune of ending up in this place.

^"For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me."

Field Trip

Sometimes we just need to ignore the schedule, get out of the house and go have some fun for a few hours!

As part of my weekly Life Skills Training classes with the kids here at PDK, I've asked to take them on some field trips to places like the library and the museum. Yesterday we went to the Butuan Nat'l Museum and apparently some of the staff needed some time out because most of them joined us too.

Although everyone had been to the museum before, it was the first time they had a guide take them through the entire place. I think it had something to do with a "foreigner" being with them. :) I must admit that I was impressed with the place - very detailed information with artifacts and photographs. It was a great way for me to learn some history about Butuan and also some archeological and sociological facts about this area of the philippines.

After the museum tour, we crossed the parking lot to the "arboretum" and spent about an hour in the park. I think all of us had cabin fever (or as I call it "compund fever") and really needed to get out and play.

the Kids at PDK

The value of 50 cents

If you dropped 50 cents, would you pick it up? If your dollar bill flew out the window, would you stop or backtrack to get it back?

I was sitting in a full jeepney (think open air bus) the other day. Across from me was a woman with her granddaughter sitting on her lap. The girl was holding a 20 peso note (worth less than 50 cents/US right now). This 20 peso note was her bus fare. As we drove along, the little girl fell asleep - and her 20 peso note flew out of her hand. The jeepney is open in the back so this 20 peso note quickly flew out onto the road.

I didn't think much about it, but suddenly everyone else on the jeepney started making noise and got the driver's attention to stop his vehicle! At this point, we were headed up a bridge, but without hesitation, the driver stopped, and literally backed up (with traffic approaching). The driver backed up until the passengers told him they could see the 20 peso note. The little girl - awake by this time - jumped off the back of the jeepney and ran to grab her 20 peso note. Everyone smiled and the driver took off...

What would you do for 50 cents?

because a picture tells a thousand words

victim of typhoon

street kid

street kids we see weekly

evacuation center education

When was the last time you were in an elementary classroom? For me, it had been a while - but I had an opportunity to visit and walk through two different evacuation centers last week.

When Typhoon Washi hit, all the school were out of session because of the holidays. Someone made a decision to turn schools into evacuation centers. While it seemed like a good idea at first, it has presented some unique challenges - not the least of which is what to do with all the people now that school is supposed to start this week.

Can you picture the size of that elementary classroom? Now imagine 6 families - yes 6 - living in that classroom. Families - meaning adults and children - together living and sleeping in one room. I spoke to one woman who told me that she was living with 12 families! They sit outside to eat - making their own campfire of sorts to cook over and I noticed trash barrels lined up outside - about every other classroom.

I noticed several tents set up in the front yard areas - perhaps for people who came late? The interesting thing is that none of the people given tents were actually inside the tents. The ground is still muddy/wet so naturally it's not conducive to sleeping on. Ever resourceful, they were putting together tables and chairs as makeshift beds so they could at least stay dry for the evening.

When I asked the woman who was living with 12 families "if I could wave a magic wand and give you one thing, what would it be?" She responded, "the financial means to rebuild our home. We just want to go back".

I didn't have a response for her...

a different kind of heartache

Meet Mariana, Beverly and Angie ("ahn gee"):

I met these girls a few weeks ago when we were out on our Thursday Streetkid Outreach. Angie (on the right) and I were completely smitten with each other from the minute we met. She is so beautiful and her dark eyes looked all the way through me. It's a look I won't forget (met a girl last year at the dump with a similar look who still haunts me). She was wearing a coin purse belted around her waist.

When I asked about it, I found out that Angie's mother is dead and her father has diabetes - which is untreated because he has no money for meds - because he can't/won't work. All of Angie's siblings have left home so she is now earning money for her dad. On the first day I met her, she and her friends were caroling, then begging for money (customary here during holidays).

I didn't have a hard time getting her to follow me across the street to the location our car was parked and where we were handing out hot food (rice porridge with chix) and bags of drinking water. Her friends were a little skeptical at first, but came over after a larger group of kids seemed to sense that it was ok. I talked with these 3 girls and we sang a few carols and I told them to stick together, be safe and I would be back next week. Angie softly, jokingly said something about "money money" but I ignored her and gave her a hug and say "god bless you" as we all left. She smiled and waved good bye...

We were back last night to hand out christmas bags at the same location. Thanks to a church's generous donation, we filled 50 sport bags with items like soap, shampoo, toothbrush and handed them out in the same locations we go to on Thursday nights.

Angie came running up to me - with Marianna and Beverly in tow. Angie was without her coin purse and Beverly was without shoes. There was something different this time. I said "I told you I would be back" and made small talk but they flitted off. When they came back a few minutes later, I told them we had gifts and their eyes lit up. All three followed me back to the van this time without hesitation. As soon as they got their bags, they rummaged through them quickly to see what was inside. They posed for pictures without hesitation. But this time, when it was over, Angie said "money, money" with a charming smile and little giggle. I said, "no money - we give you gifts - necessary items". She repeated "money, money" and I shook my head. As they started to walk away, I went back to them, gave them a hug and said "stick together, stay safe and remember god loves you".

Angie lives every day thinking mostly about "money" and has already learned at the age of 10 what works to get the most amount of money. When she saw me, she wasn't thinking about my smile or kind words; rather a white person - who was good for "money"...