Bridge of Hope

At The Justice Conference in February, I found out about a group helping children through an organization called Bridge of Hope. Today I spoke to Steward, one of their volunteers, about what the group's doing in India and other Asian countries. The young man called just as I was about to sit down, drink my tea, and read the Oregonian. After I got off the phone, it struck me how differently I live than most of these children, who often labor long hours for a bit of food. Many of them live in fear of sexual predators and struggle to obtain health care and minimal education.

I'm not sure how I'm meant to be involved yet. There are multiple places I can help out, and only so much time and money. But at least I can spread awareness. That's why I linked to Bridge of Hope.

Thinking about these children called to mind a poem I wrote a few years ago. It's about a Burundian friend and his little girls.

My prayer -- may all children, male and female, know what it is to be safe and cared for by adults they trust.



SINDAMUZI’S LITTLE GIRLS

All dressed up
for Sunday night --
beautiful thick hair
frizzed high,
batik wraps: purple,
yellow, magenta.
Sindamuzi’s little girls
are African orchids
beginning to bloom,
iridescent moths
hovering
at their father’s elbow,
lit candles
aglow
in the dusky rugo.


Kirundi words:
*Rugo -- a home and yard, usually enclosed by a fence