Prison; Not a Place for Children

I don’t even know where to begin. How do I put into words the tragedy I’ve witnessed today? Bear with me as I stumble through this post. Trying to write through hard felt emotions is a little difficult. Words don’t quite fit for what my eyes have seen…

This morning Marsali came to pick us up to take us to a government run prison for street kids. Marsali, as I’ve mentioned before, is the nurse for Dwelling Places. She goes to the prison every other Tuesday to help treat the children with their medical needs. We swung by the offices before leaving the city to pick up Chris and Betty. I was comforted to see Chris’ smiling face with us once again. Knowing he was coming along already brought a peace to my heart. Marsali briefed us before arriving to this prison. She prepared us to steer clear of any political conversation and to prepare our heart for what we were about to see. I was under the impression that this prison was highly guarded with government officials, and that we would be arriving to an intensely gated area. After driving an hour out of the city and down a long dirt road, my expectations were quickly and unfortunately shattered. In fact, my expectations would have been a dream for this place. It made sense to me why this place is so far away and seems nearly hidden.

As we drove up this long, dirt hill, we slowly saw children revealed on both sides of the van. Every hundred to fifty feet, we would see a child or two just sitting in the grass or off in the bushes. After a couple minutes of this, we came upon some old, abandoned buildings. They were worn down with windows busted out, and the tan colored paint chipping off. Sitting outside were small groups of children.
“We’re here,” Marsali said. I was aghast the moment she said this. I could not believe what my eyes were seeing. I could not we believe we had arrived at our destination.

The van stopped and I got out into what felt like an evil, eerie place. There were no gates. There were no adults in sight. It was quiet, nearly silent in fact. I later found out there are 205 children here. You would never know it from listening to this place that life was even existent. I looked around to see children scattered by ones and some in pairs of two. They were weary of us, and hesitant to approach us unlike the kids closer to town. There were about 8 of these large, abandoned buildings around us. I assumed they were used for the children. For what reason I don’t know, because there was nothing inside them.

The windows were broken and dirty, paint was chipping, doors hung open, and the rooms were large and vacant. They almost had a warehouse effect on the inside. Eeriness hung in the air. My spirit already felt heavy. You cannot help but sense there is something deeply wrong with this place. We walked through the first building to unveil more run-down buildings. Then slowly but surely, the children came gathering out of nowhere. It seemed almost as if they had been hiding. They were all dirty and dusty. They stood there on their bony legs looking at us with sad eyes. Their bellies were enlarged and hair discolored from malnutrition. Some had ringworm, some were halfway dressed, and one had a shuteye from infection. I could tell that even the slums would be better for these kids. In the slums they would have relationships, but here they were isolated. At first we only saw about 100 children, and I was initially overwhelmed and didn’t quite know how to react.

Chris saved me from an awkward panic when he called us back in the previous building. He led us upstairs to meet some people “in charge.” I followed Chris up the stairs once more comforted only by his presence. When we arrived on the second floor, there were three offices and three adults. They were the only ones I had seen thus far. (The set up of the land is very broad and spread apart. It wouldn’t take much to spot an adult here.) We were directed to a small office on my left. Marsali already sat inside on a blue couch. Standing in the room waiting on us was a man in a suit that wore glasses and a baldhead. He was older, probably in his later fifties and put a smile on his face. We walked in the room to sit down and meet them. As I sat there looking at these three people, everything in me judged them. How could they just sit up here and be okay with this place?? I don’t understand. I felt like I was sitting in a room with Nazi soldiers who approved concentration camps. And truthfully, this place was not far from that. While this man was talking to us, (I could hardly listen because my mind was spinning) there was a painfully loud banging sound that repeated itself off and on for about 1 minute. I had no idea what it’s purpose was until we walked out of the office and over to a window. This window looked over the whole compound.

The loud banging sound was to notify the 205 children that at 11:00 a.m., it was time for breakfast porridge. They lined up in rows outside with blue, plastic bowls and waited for their turn at the front of the line. From a large bucket, someone scooped out a wet, grit-like substance and plopped it into their bowls. I just couldn’t believe what I was seeing. If a place like this were ever found in the U.S., it would be a national atrocity making news headlines for weeks. How was this okay…

After morning porridge, we made our way to play with the children. Marsali and one of the girls on our team went into another area to do the clinic. The clinic consisted of Marsali and her medicine. It was up to Betty and Chris to send the children to her. The few adults around were so disconnected. They had no business in showing gratitude for Marsali’s help. It was apparent they could care less.

We played jump rope and the smiles and playtime began. Small child-like riots broke out as the children fought to be next in line to jump. Theirs eyes lit up and their mouths were filled with laughter as they played. My heart soared seeing them so happy. Dawn came and took my place holding the end of the rope. I played with the children running around everywhere. I love watching Chris play with these kids. He has such a captivating smile and the children are drawn to his loving, fatherly countenance. He would pick them up and spin them around, we took pictures of them, and we sang and danced with them.

After about an hour of playing, Chris took us on a heart wrenching tour of this place. The whole time, he maintained a smile and had a small hand in each of his. The children followed us and just wanted a hand to hold. After swallowing my fear of ringworm and disease, I was proud to give them mine. We walked across a debris-covered area and into a slender hallway. On each side of me were boarded doors with pad locks on them. The only opening came from above the doorways. There were small bars about an arms length above my head. The bars were around 6 inches long, just tall enough for me to reach up and snap a picture to see what was inside these cells. When I pulled my camera down to look at the screen, all I saw was a small green bucket in the room. The rest was just a tightly confined closet-sized room. I asked Chris what this was for and didn’t like hearing his answer. They use these cells as isolation punishment for when the children misbehave. I felt sick walking through here. I felt so helpless. My ability to help is so small, but my desire is so big. I couldn’t help but just squeeze the small hand in mine tighter. I did my best to keep this child by my side smiling the whole time I carried his hand in mine. I felt guilty walking away from these cells by merely knowing of their existence.

With a sea of children following us, we went to both the girls and boys dormitories. They fill these abandoned buildings with bunk beds and mosquito nets. They don’t do much though. There are holes in the nets, and not to mention the broken windows they sleep next to as well as the doors that hang wide open. I remained encouraged by Chris’ constant, comforting smile. Many of these children come from northern Uganda. Only he and Betty speak their language. I have love to give, but Chris has communication with them. His reward will be great. Even I love being around him, and feel like his daughter. I can only imagine how much these children adore this man. At the girls dorm was the next adult we’d seen. I was confronted with my own sin as I could hardly shake her hand. I just couldn’t understand how these people worked here.

The smiles of these kids kept me going throughout this day. As well as seeing Chris’ hands heavily occupied with tons of little fingers on them. They just want to be loved so badly. Having a hand to hold meant the world to them. Split in two, part of me just wanted to come home and be comforted in the arms of my family. However, the other half of me wanted to stay with these children and never leave their side. I just wish I could build a fortress of love around them.

I have seen the epitome of a fallen and evil world today. I’m having a very difficult time picking my head up from this one. How can it be okay for this to go on?? How can these children just be confined here with nothing to do all day out in the middle of nowhere? How can anyone just sit by and watch this happen?? My heart is hurting. I feel drenched in compassion. I am longing for this to all stop. Oh, Lord, please I pray that you pour out compassion on these children.

We just played with the children all day, and I gave everything I had to keep them smiling and laughing the whole time. I wanted them all to feel loved and cared for; even if it was only for a few hours. I wanted them to taste goodness. I wanted them to feel important- to feel special. After about 4 hours, it was time to pack up the van and head out. We piled in the car and rolled the windows down to wave bye to the kids. As we drove away, I sank within myself. The rainy ride home accompanied the hurt I felt. My heart ached the whole way back. It wasn’t long until I sat alone my room and just broke down at the appalling things I’d seen. How do you watch someone be mistreated, hold their hand, make them smile, and then just leave them?? My heart is so sad. I am upset by what I’ve seen today. It is a great evil being done to these children. No words or pictures can explain this. In my opinion, it was dangerously close to a concentration camp for children. These children were deserted, wandering, uncared for, and alone. Lord, thank you for the smiles I could share today. I’m at a loss of words for what more to say- I’m hurting beyond word’s expression. Pray for these children. They need life. They need relationship. They need love. They need Jesus.