Dominican Republic - a day from my journal

I'm sitting on a little wooden bench, watching the water pour off the tin roof that covers my head. Three chickens are hiding under my bench, sharing my dry spot. The rain hasn't stopped the sun from shining, nor the birds from chattering away in the trees, but it has washed away (for a little while) the smell of the goat pastures that surround the clinic.

In a few minutes, Cheima will call me inside for a lunch of rice and beans and, if I'm lucky, sweet fried plantains. My sunburn from last weekend's surfing lesson has faded and my bajillion mosquito bites have decided to stop itching for a few minutes. In this moment, all is beautiful.

But after lunch, things will go downhill – literally. Kristin and I will be going down the mountain to a village called La Tinajita. It is the poorest village on this mountain, and home to the majority of the malnourished children seen in the clinic. Several days ago, I went with the doctor on a house call to check on the progress of several girls in that village, and the story I heard broke my heart. One of the little girls in the house was once known as Monkey. When the clinic workers first found her she was three, had never learned to walk, and talked very little. Ignored and rarely fed, she sat in the corner, often covered in her own bodily fluids. Several of the clinic volunteers made a deal with her parents that they would come pick her up every morning, feed her, bathe her, care for her, and return her in the evenings. Within 2 weeks, Monkey had learned to walk. When those volunteers had to leave, another family was found to care for her, and another, when that family grew to burdened by her presence.

Eventually, however, rumors started to spread that her father wasn't able to care for his children, and he demanded that she stay at home. Now, the beautiful little girl has lost her nickname, and has learned to walk and talk, but she has very little hope for any kind of future. Our visit to her house was evidence that she is still very rarely fed or bathed. She has gained no weight in over 2 months. Although she should start school next year, chances are, she will be kept home, to keep the house and to care for her younger siblings, the youngest of which is 1 year old and still can not sit upright. Her 3 older sisters and 1 older brother have already started down the path of no education, because school uniforms are expensive, and even when they are free from the clinic, getting 4 children to school every morning takes time, effort, and money. She, like her siblings, will grow up into the same life her parents lead – poverty, substance abuse, abusive relationships, and very little hope.

And that is often the story of growing up in the mountains of Dominican Republic. There are success stories. Two of the girls in the village are currently enrolled in the college in Santiago, and two more will likely get scholarships for next year. There are those who own businesses, or teach in the schools, or drive taxis. There are families with good parents, who are willing to do whatever it takes to help their children succeed. But for the rest, there is no safety net. There is no CPS, no social workers following their cases. On this mountain, the clinic may be the only institution to even know these children exist.

Dark Chocolate

I love chocolate. (Actually, I have a suspicion that chocolate is one of the triggers for my migraines, so I've liked it less lately, but headaches aside, I still find it delicious.) There are few foods in the world like it. You can put chocolate in cookies, or cake, or ice cream, or muffins. Go to the State Fair in August and you'll discover that chocolate even makes bacon better. Even in its simplest form, one bite of chocolate can make a not-so-good day suddenly seem a little happier.
But chocolate has a dark side. And I'm not talking about Hershey's Special Dark.
Chocolate is made from cocoa beans; you probably already knew that. Cocoa beans grow in hot places; you may have known that, too. Now I'm going to tell you some things you may not have known. The majority of the world's chocolate (I've read estimates between 70 and 90%) is grown in West Africa: Nigeria, Cameroon, Ghana, and Ivory Coast. Major candy companies including Mars, Hershey, and Nestle (considered the "big three" of candy) are supplied by hundreds of cocoa farms in these countries. Often family owned and passed down for generations, the cocoa farmers earn their living by growing, harvesting, and selling the beans that make our delicious treats. Sounds like a heavenly job, doesn't it? Spending all day in a warm tropical place, surrounded by chocolate?
Now, to understand what I'm going to say next, we have to first understand our economic system. When I go to the store, I see lots of candy bars! I like Twix, but I also like Peanut Butter M&M's. So lets say I go into a drug store to buy some chocolate (its been that kind of day), and the Twix is $1.25, but the M&Ms are only $0.50. I'm probably going to buy the M&Ms. In fact, I'd probably buy those fifty cent drops of goodness even if I wasn't in the market for chocolate at the moment, because lets face it, that's a good deal! But tasty as those treats are, I'd pick something else if they were $3.00, wouldn't I? How much is chocolate worth to me?
Chocolate companies understand that. They are businesses. Big businesses. They understand profit margins, and supply/demand curves, and marketing, and price strategy, and all those other things your economics teacher droned on about while your eyes glazed over. To oversimplify all business strategies into a single sentence - sell the finished product at a price people are willing to pay, while paying as little as possible for the raw goods needed to produce it.
Ok, this takes us back to West Africa, where that "little as possible" becomes a cocoa farmer's gross income. In some area's of Ivory Coast, over half the population derives their income from cocoa production. In an already impoverished country, where there is little government support and no such thing as labor laws, the cocoa farmers have few options but to take what the American company offers them for their crop. After all, the farm has been in the family for generations, and the workers have no other skills, education, or opportunities for employment. Cocoa is their life source.
So, to make a decent living wage, the owners of the cocoa farms employ the same economics as the larger companies: sell the finished product at a price people are willing to pay, while paying as little as possible to produce it. This means that to turn the most profit - and I'm not talking major bank here, not fancy cars and diamond rings, just enough to feed their kids, and maybe send them to school - they need to pay their employees as little as possible.
It is estimated that 14,000 children (children!) are currently working for little or no pay in the cocoa farms of Ivory Coast. I read a true story today about an 11 year-old boy who wanted to help his family with their bills so he took a job that advertised $125 a year and a bike to work in a cocoa field. When he showed up for his first day of work, he was told he would be working in a different field - then shipped him hundreds of miles away, where his family couldn't find him. He slept in a concrete building crammed with other boys and fed very little. He worked from sun up to sun down (literally), and if he didn't work hard enough, he was beaten with a bicycle chain. He was never paid.
The cheapest labor the cocoa farmers can get - stolen children. They are easy to get, easy to manipulate and control, and eat very little. They don't know their legal rights. If they get sick or die, they are cheaply replaced, so there is no need to take good care of them. Cocoa produced in these kind of farms is much cheaper than cocoa from a farm that pays adults a fair wage and provides decent working conditions. That means that Hershey, Mars, and Nestle can buy it cheaper, make more profits, and sell it to you cheaper too. These three companies are aware of where their cocoa comes from. They know the conditions of the workers that grow and harvest their product. But they also know that consumers would rather not hear such horror stories and will eat their chocolate in ignorant bliss, while they continue to turn major profits.
There are chocolate companies that are certified fair trade (look for it on the label), which means they are audited by a third party organization and have shown that they pay all workers a fair wage, do not employ children, and provide safe working conditions. None of these things are all that special, it is the MINIMUM of what we would expect from an US company. They are a little more expensive than non-fair trade candies, $2-4 per bar, because their workers are all paid for their work.
So what it comes down to is, what is chocolate worth to you? Is it worth $2? Is it worth the life of a child? Buying fair trade certified chocolate helps a worker make a decent wage so he can feed his family, send his children to school, and support the local economy. Buying chocolate from a company that knowingly supports child-enslavement sends the message to those companies that you don't care if they practice ethical business principles. It also sends a message to a child in West Africa that you value cheap chocolate more than their life.
How much is chocolate worth to you?

Peru

On June 24th, I will be traveling to Peru with a group of people from my hometown of North Manchester to to be the hands and feet of Jesus in Peru. While we are there, the team will help build an orphanage, share the love of Jesus with the kids on the street, and work along side abolitionists at the Not for Sale Campaign projects.
Because of the extreme poverty in Peru, many children are forced out of their homes around the age of 12. They are expected to live on the streets, working or begging to make enough money to eat. Because these children are so vulnerable, sex traffickers often force them into a life of prostitution.
But there is hope. And our team will be meeting and working with one of the heroes who is bringing hope to the street children. Her name is Lucy Borja. Lucy was directing an HIV/AIDS prevention program in Lima when she began meeting some of the teens on the streets who are faced with daily violence. When Lucy met two young boys who were too frightened to spend another night on the streets, she invited them to sleep in her office in the city. She told them to extend the offer to any other child who shared their fears. Lucy informed the custodian to give entry to any child who arrived at the office that evening.
She was afraid the custodian would turn them away when he saw their raggedy appearance so she decided to go to her office to check in on them that night. When she arrived at the office, her key unlocked the door, but she couldn't seem to push it open. Once she managed to get inside she found out why. Several kids were sleeping on the floor in front of the door. Actually, she counted 600 children sleeping in the office that night, crammed into cabinets and cupboards, piled up on one another. Word had spread on the streets of Lima. Found: A safe shelter from the storm.
Lucy went on to start several safe homes and programs for the street children in Lima. Our team will be helping at some of these. Psalm 10:18 says "You will bring justice to the orphans and the oppressed, so people can terrify them no more." God has a plan to bring justice to the world-and His plan is us.
As I'm preparing to return to Peru, please keep me and the rest of the team in your prayers.

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