SUKKUR—It is 6:30 in the morning. Mostly women and children seem to be getting ready for work. Young teenage girls were preparing breakfast; men sipping a cup of tea. Those who were rushing to work had a quick breakfast and by 8 a.m. the camp is almost empty.

Video: See the camp conditions 
 
These ambitious people would find any work to do. For eight hours of work they were paid $1.20, therefore each family put their children to work to earn extra cash.

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The only ones left in the camp were teens and younger children who took care of their siblings. One such girl was Begum. I noticed her the first day. She must be at least nine years old, and carrying her younger sibling, she would follow me while I was in the camp. I could not resist noticing her—she reminded me of my daughter, so I got to know her a little bit. View more photos
 

Her day starts early: she prepares the wood stove and helps her mom to make bread and tea. She cleans the house and puts all the beddings in place.  She packs the leftover bread for lunch. Until her parents left, she was busy doing something. When they went off to work, Begum than takes care of herself. She also takes care of her little brother who is with her all day long.

She had never been to school, and when she was sick her parents treated her with herbal medicines. I had not seen her change her clothes the last three days.  But she always had a beautiful smile.
 

During the medical camp I was looking for her but she was not to be found. I asked the village leader of her whereabouts and he said, “Begum had to work today along with her parents.” I told him that this was an important day for all the kids to be seen by the doctor and his reply was, “But what would we do when our children do not work?” I was so disappointed; children at a very young age working rather than having a decent education and enjoying their childhood.

Many children showed up at the medical camp. The doctor mentioned that most of the children seen had waterborne diseases. We had the right medicines and treatment for the children.

 Just as we were about to close, I saw Begum with her brother. Her parents brought her back to the camp because she was not well. She was still wearing the same clothes, her hair was messy, but she had the most beautiful smile. I brushed her tangled hair and said, “God loves you.” She did not understand a word I said, but her smile said it all. She was seen by the doctor and given medicines.
 

But Begum’s day does not end there. Whether she was sick or not, she had chores at home and she had to prepare dinner before her parents came home from work.

It was a long hot day. We provided towels, soap and shampoo for the children to take a bath. With the Lifesaver jerrycan we provided clean drinking water. More than 100 children received free medical care.
 
At 4 p.m. I started the journey towards Peshawar to meet with Operation Blessing’s partner Humedica who were doing medical outreaches in relief camps. There were no flights out of Sukkur, therefore I decided to take the 18-hour road journey. At about 1:30 a.m. on the road I remembered the faces of the kids in the camp, especially Begum, and I prayed for hope for these children. 

I arrived in Lahore at 6 a.m., and in an hour I am heading to Peshawar, another 7-hour journey. I will have more for you from Peshawar. God bless.

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SUKKUR, Pakistan—This morning as I was leaving the camp the leader said, “These are our children, and they will be ours, thank you for helping them.” I asked myself, “Why did he say that?”

There could be couple reasons; maybe because we are Christians helping their Muslim children, or maybe because he wanted to make sure that we kept a distance, just do the project and leave. I told the couple of volunteers who were with me, “Well, I hope through what we will be doing for these kids, he will change his statement.”

As promised, I returned that evening to the camp with the LifeSaver jerrycan. The leader had all the kids assembled and I had him bring a bucket of drinking water from the river. Many men and kids were all around us curious to see what was taking place. I had the leader fill the jerrycan, then I pumped it and served him the first glass of water.

He drank and drank, looked at me with a big smile and said, “It is sweet.” He compared the water they had been drinking and he just shook his head.  He told the kids to line up and enjoy the clean drinking water.
 

After all the kids had a glass of water and we were about to leave, the leader came to me and said, “These are your children, please help them, and help us to help them too.” Those words touched my heart. Once again Operation Blessing and LifeSaver made an impact in this village.
 

Tomorrow morning a team of doctors will be seeing to the medical needs of the children. We have also purchased towels, soap and shampoo for the kids to have a bath. Thank you for your continued support!

SUKKUR, Pakistan—I was tossing back and forth thinking of the children I met in the camp who were in dire need of medicines, a bath, and clean clothes. There were no toilets or bathing facility in the camp. When it got dark there was nothing much to do. There was no electricity.

They slept out in the open, either on a cot or just on a piece of cloth. If it rains, they get wet, and perhaps go to sleep with no change of clothes. Surrounding them were donkeys and other families. There was no privacy.  The beautiful clear sky and stars were all they could admire. I wonder what goes through a child’s mind staring at millions of stars. I bet none of these kids know that the God who created the millions of stars created them as well.

 
There were many power outages during the night, but my restless mind was thinking of what could be done for these children. I was sweating and not able to sleep. When I got up, I stepped in a pool of water—there was a leak in the air conditioning system and it was messy.
 

When I arrived at the camp the children greeted me. Their hair was a mess, they were sweaty, their clothes were dirty and flies all over their faces; many had severe rashes. They only have one good meal a day, rice and lentils. There was literally nothing for the kids to do. In my mind I was thinking how I could bring about a smile on their faces.

I began to ask these children questions, and to my surprise, none of these kids knew their ages. They had never been to school; sometimes they had to work along with their parents. If they don’t know their ages, I am sure they never celebrated their birthdays and they never received gifts. They had never thought of their future, and most probably are married off young. Their future is bleak but I was very sure that God brought me here so that Operation Blessing can be a blessing to these children.

 
I laid my hands on every kid and said a word of blessing. Each time I would touch a child, there came out of them a smile, the most beautiful smile that reflected the love of God in these children.  I was showing them the pictures I took of them; they were so excited and joyful.

Tomorrow, I arranged for two pediatricians to visit the camp. There will be a medical clinic for these kids and they will be given proper medicines. Later today we are arranging for all the children to take a bath in the river. I am purchasing soap, towels and shampoo. After which I am going to demonstrate the LifeSaver jerrycan that will give them clean, safe drinking water.

 
The first day you saw pictures of children whose faces reflected desperation, but today the same children expressed joy. This is because Operation Blessing is there to be a blessing to them.

As the flight took off, the first announcement was, “It is 4:15 a.m. Dubai time. We have only 15 more minutes before fasting begins.” The cabin crew was working hard to make sure all got their meals on time. I too was treated as one fasting.

At 4:30 a.m., “Fasting has started. No serving of food,” said the cabin crew supervisor. The rest of the flight nothing was served. Although I needed a glass of water, I had to be sensitive to my neighbor, not to tempt him or make him upset that I was not observing Ramadan.
 
Going through Immigration was not that bad but again the question was asked.

“So, you are Indian background?”  asked the officer.

“Yes, and I was born and raised in Singapore,” I answered. She flipped through the pages of my passport till another officer interrupted her; she stamped my passport and said, “Next.”
 
Customs is always a hassle if you are a Pakistani, and I looked like one. My camera bag went through the X-Ray and the customs officer alerted another colleague of his to check my bag.  He asked me why I was carrying five cell phones.

“Five, no way,” but he was trying hard to find the five. I had all kinds of stuff in my camera bag which was shaped like a cell phone and he began to ask me questions and at this point I switched my language to English, “Sir, I don’t speak Urdu.” It worked. “Okay you can go.” It was that simple.
 
It was humid and hot as I came out of the airport. Everyone wanted to help. Everyone was offering a taxi service. “Naye Charyeya (I don’t need),” I spoke in Urdu and was able to get myself out of it. But always there is a persistent one wanting to push the luggage trolley.

I could have brushed him aside, but I realized that I could be the only one today who would have given him some extra rupees (Pakistan currency) to feed his family. It is a hard life for these men trying to just earn a few rupees. With a large family at home, fasting all day, a little extra cash would bring some joy to the family.
 
Since it was Saturday morning the streets were quiet. I was surprised to see donkey carts on the road. A few new buildings had come up here and there but over all I felt nothing much has changed in Pakistan. I asked my host how are things in Pakistan. He said, “Things have actually gotten worse.”

Just then I got an e-mail from my contacts in Peshawar saying not to travel today to Peshawar since the Taliban and the army was engaged in a fight. I talked to our partner Humedica and they told me they could not leave the house either.

That changed my plans and led me to travel to Sukkur, Southern Pakistan, were the flood situation had gotten worse. Humedica will be packing their stuff and will be moving to Sukkur in the next few days.
 
I went to the local store to get a SIM card and exchange money to local currency. I was surprised the number of security measures placed everywhere—security at the front gate, at the back, the side and security camera too. I had not seen this during the years I lived in Pakistan. I turned to my host and asked him about a suicide bombing that killed the father of a friend, and with a smile he asked me, “Which one? Almost there is one every day. It is hard to keep track of it. You need to be specific.” I did not know what to say.
 
By this time I was going through jetlag, took a short nap, and visited some friends. At midnight we started the road journey towards Sukkur. I was not sure what to expect during this 14-hour drive. Pakistanis drive like a maniac, and any accident would be fatal. I know this because I had seen way too many fatal accidents during my 3-year stay in Peshawar, 1984-1986. My host in Lahore rented a car with a driver. He also gave me couple of his colleagues to travel with me. I felt very safe at this point. Overall the road was not that bad, driver was good and alert.
 
Because of pollution and to save on gas, most cars in Pakistan run both on gasoline and CNG (Compressed Natural Gas). All the way to Sukkur we drove on CNG gas. The gasoline was kept for emergency. We drove 700 miles and the cost of CNG was only $30.  
 

As we crossed into Sukkur, I felt for the first time that this place was about 20 years behind. The mode of transportation included crowded vans, auto rickshaws (three wheelers), horse carriages and donkey carts. The streets were narrow and crowded. One had to a have a good eye to drive these crowded streets.
 
We were greeted by children at the first relief camp. These kids were dirty, flies on their faces. I mean literally they had not taken a bath in days. Soon the men and women came around just asking for food and medicines. They were desperate for help. Just as we left the camp one man came with his child and said, “Please give us bread.”

Just before I left for Pakistan I was studying the Pakistan flag. The ¾ of green color on the flag means that the majority of the people are Muslims and the 1/3 of the white color means the minorities. The minorities are Tribes, Hindus, and Christians. The known fact is that the minorities in many ways are discriminated. These neglected camps belong to the minorities. I do not want to go in detail, but the church where I had dinner tonight was burned down by extremist four years ago. The pastor’s wife narrated what happened and I felt chills in my bones.

Well, let me get some sleep, it is 4:30 a.m. and I have an early start in the morning. God bless.

A year later, I’m standing inside a small chapel on the grounds of a hospital in Port-au-Prince. Another hauntingly beautiful melody rings out, but this time, it is one of hope.   

Her name is Desir Marie Esther and she is a survivor of the January earthquake. She is also an orphan and since age 11, has been living under the care of Father Rick’s orphanage outside the capital city.

We were introduced to Desir by Father Rick at the St. Damien Pediatric Hospital in Port-au-Prince where he serves as a doctor, priest and visionary.

“She has a really good voice,” he told us.

Desir has been singing in her church since she was six years old. After the quake, the now 29-year-old young woman was inspired to write a song.

“Do you know who Andrea Boccelli is?” Father Rick casually asked me.

I nodded in immediate recognition of the world-renown Italian tenor singer.

“He’s performing a benefit concert in Milan, Italy, in two months to help our efforts here in Haiti and Desir is going to perform her song there,” he said, beaming with pride.

In the small chapel on the grounds of St. Damien hospital, I listened as Desir’s pure voice rang out, accompanied only by the occasional sound of babies crying in the distance from one of the pediatric wards.

It was hauntingly beautiful … a melodic tribute to the hundreds of thousands of lives lost in the quake and to the broken and hurting survivors who remain.

Click here to listen to Desir’s song and view a special photo gallery in remembrance of the six-month anniversary of the Haiti quake.

Port-au-Prince, Haiti – It’s not your typical classroom—there are no walls and no desks. But for the children of Zanmi Beni, it’s the perfect place to learn.

Facing a large chalkboard, they sit in their wheelchairs and white plastic chairs under the shade of a few mango trees, surrounded by picnic tables and benches.

Before coming to Zanmi Beni, these children languished in one room at Port-au-Prince’s General Hospital. Few, if any, had ever been outside to play or enjoy the fresh air.

I listened and watched as the children laughed, giggled and happily recited the alphabet out loud with the teacher.

A young boy was called up to the front and with ruler in hand, began to recite each letter of the alphabet. He paused when he got to the letter F, unsure of how to pronounce it.

“Eff,” chimed 10-year-old Naftali from her wheelchair in the front row. “Eff,” she called out again, this time with her friend next to her joining in.

“Bravo,” said the teacher, affirming their correct response.

Naftali smiled with pride. Then, giggling with delight, she turned toward her friend and they gave each other a “fist” pound in celebration of their successful collaboration.

One of the teachers told me later that Naftali is her best student because she is so willing to learn.

Education is just one of the many activities these children now enjoy. They receive nutritious meals, 24-hour care, physical and speech therapy, and play time both in the pool and on the grounds of a beautiful property populated by fruit trees such as mango, papaya, coconut and plantains.

“Their physical and social improvement since coming here is like night and day,” said Loune Viaud, who works with Partners in Health in Haiti.

“They are smiling, moving, and interacting,” she continued.

This is especially true for children like Naftali who has been diagnosed with a less severe form of cerebral palsy. Not only is she excelling in the classroom, but the staff is hopeful that with continued physical therapy, she may soon be able to walk.

For now, however, she’s quite content to sit with her fellow friends and students under the mango trees … practicing the alphabet, counting to ten and enjoying the fresh air.

PORT-AU-PRINCE, Haiti – I entered the children’s dormitory at Zanmi Beni and slowly navigated my way through the maze of cribs that filled a large room.

“Bon Jou,” I said in my best Creole to a group of four nurses sitting at a desk stacked high with manila folders containing the medical records and notes of the more than 40 children who now call Zanmi Beni home.

“Bon Jou,” returned the chorus of voices.

On the top of one of the stacks I noticed a handwritten name in blue ink on the tab of a folder that read, “Lovely.”

The nurse directed me toward a crib in the corner of the room.

When I got to Lovely’s crib, I stopped and hesitated. In many ways, this young girl was anything but her name.

Her eyes gazed upward as I took in her thin, frail body—her left leg crossed rigidly over the other, and feet turned in such a way that it’s doubtful if she’s ever been able to walk.

I leaned in and softly called out, “Bon Jou.” Her eyes met mine and slowly, the corners of her mouth began to turn upward. She was grinning from ear to ear with a smile that lit up the room.

Her name was perfect.

According to Lovely’s records, she is 15 years old, but her size is more like that of a four-year-old and her weight is under 30 pounds. She was found abandoned on the streets and brought to Zanmi Beni in critical condition.

“It was very sad,” said Loune Viaud, Director of Strategic Planning and Operations for Zanmi Lasante (Partners in Health), the organization responsible for caring for these children at Zanmi Beni. “We would not let anyone take photos of her. She never smiled before and there was no response.” 

Now, after a few months in her new home, it seems smiling is what Lovely does all the time. She receives physical therapy on a regular basis and is able to move and interact with others—something she was never able to do before. And she’s slowly gaining weight.

Her quiet happiness and smiles are evidence of the compassionate care she and the other children are receiving on a daily basis. Operation Blessing, working together with Partners in Health, purchased the house that is now Zanmi Beni and is preparing to break ground on constructing a new 30-bedroom dormitory that will provide plenty of “growing” room for children like Lovely and the Zanmi Beni staff.

Before I left for the day, I made one last round and stopped by Lovely’s crib. I gently touched her cheek with my hand, smiled, and said goodbye. Her eyes seemed to twinkle with delight and she said goodbye the only way she knew how … with a beautiful … lovely … smile.

PORT-AU-PRINCE, Haiti – Even as darkness fell, sticky heat smothered Port-au-Prince like an electric blanket turned all the way up. As I stepped from the cool sanctuary of the Land Cruiser, my glasses fogged up; so I took them off and slipped them into my shirt pocket.

Nancy and I walked into the camp past young men who were wearing Haitian Boy Scout uniforms and were serving as security guards. Dr. Joseline Marhone came out from under a tarp that was stretched like a flat roof over tables piled high with boxes of bandages and medicines.

I greeted my old friend, and kissed her on both shiny cheeks. The last time I had seen Joseline was in November under much happier circumstances. We were in the shady parking lot of the Montana Hotel, transferring 225,000 doses of anti-parasite medicine into her vehicle. She used those pills to kick off a nationwide anti-parasite program. That was a happy day under the trees at the Montana.

Now the trees are gone, the Montana is gone, and much of Haiti is only a memory, but my friend remains, still smiling and still strong. Kissing her cheeks, I tasted the salt in her perspiration and felt that I was in the presence of a hero.

Joseline invited us to sit with her in the cubbyhole behind the piles of supplies. I asked her to tell me about the quake and what had happened since. For the next hour, she told the stories—about how, in an instant of thunderous horror, her house crashed down around her; how she urged her terrified grandson to squirm through a narrow tunnel out of the rubble, and then waited for her own rescue more concerned with where her grandson was than with her own fate.

She pointed to the skirt she was wearing and said it was all that she was able to salvage from her earthly belongings. Then she told us about the camps, and how they are getting worse instead of better, and how she regularly serves 200 patients a day at her makeshift clinic.

The saddest story was about what women and young girls are experiencing in the camps. Far worse than hunger, thirst and disease is the sexual abuse. Hundreds of women and young girls have been attacked since the quake.

Joseline then showed us around the camp and asked me to take a water sample and test it for contaminants. She said that the last two times she drank camp water she got diarrhea. I filled a bottle and promised to return.

I asked Nancy to take a photo of Joseline and me. I wanted one to go with the happy photo from what seems like so long ago.

As long as I am breathing I will work with every fiber of my being to help Joseline and Nancy help the Haitian people.

So what do you do in a situation like that? It’s easy—give them all the same birthday and throw a big party to celebrate their lives!

And what better day is there for that than on Haiti’s National Children’s Day (June 13)?

The Zanmi Beni children and staff went to a park in Port-au-Prince and had a great day of fun and celebration. A group of clowns were on hand to make the day extra special and all of the children got to eat birthday cake.

For most of the kids it was the first time anyone had ever celebrated their birthday. I have been so impressed with the level of care that our partner, Zanmi Lasante, has been investing into the lives of the children. The loving environment and attention to detail from the Zanmi Lasante staff have already made a huge difference in the lives of these children.