When we visit with the fistula survivors, we give each one a dress that has been handmade with love.  Friends, family, church members, and others who have learned about our work in Liberia donate these.  On my first trip to Liberia as a Dignity Advocate, Phyllis and Kerri paid for an extra piece of luggage so they could take all the dresses that had been sewn by the women of The Church of the Madeline in Tulsa.

On my second trip, I took about 100 dresses, 83 of which had been made by women in my church, Berkeley United Methodist, in Austin.  One lady hand-sewed about 35 dresses and embellished each one with buttons and bric-a-brac.  Her granddaughter made a coordinating bracelet for each outfit.  It was a tight fit getting all those dresses in my suitcase, but thanks to my husband’s packing skills, I did not have to pay for additional luggage. 
 
Many of the fistula survivors are young teens and very small, but there are some larger women as well.  The very small dresses go to the daughters of fistula survivors as well as orphan children. 

A number of artistic people have put their craft skills to work for the people we serve in Liberia.  Anne-Marie’s sister-in-law, Jan, designed balloon ball covers and made several as well.  All you have to do is slip a balloon in the opening at the end, inflate it, and tie it off.  The children have a colorful fun toy that can be easily washed as well!

We also provide the women with hygiene kits.  Many women from Linda’s church have sewn the kits and filled them with necessary supplies.  Kerri, with the help of her Aunt Janice's Quilting Guild at their Kiamichi Quilt Camp, made at least 30 of these kits.  When we distribute the kits, our team members explain the purpose of each item as they contain things the survivors may not have used, such as sanitary napkins.

Would you like to sew something for a fistula survivor?  If you are interested in donating your talent or perhaps supplies for the hygiene kits, please contact us through our web site.  We would love to hear from you!

Kathi’s father, Rev. Jim Park, had gone to downtown Monrovia to see what merchants had in the way of food that they could spare.  This was during the war – around 1994.  He distributed the donated food to the hungry and desperate that he found on the streets.  The “Baptist food bags” contained items such as sardines or mackerel, tomato paste, soap, and one or two cups of rice.  Every day he walked up and down the streets sharing what he had collected. 
 
On this particular day, he came across a little boy about 5 or 6 years of age.  The boy was crying and dejected.  His little brother, who was about 3 years old, was with him.  Rev. Park stopped and spoke to the children.  He could tell they were not used to being on the streets.  The older boy shared that his mother had gone away and when she did not come back, their father went out to look for her.  It had been about four days since he left and they had no place to live and no food to eat.  A Lebanese man allowed them to sleep on his back porch for a night or two, and gave them some food, but after they wet their bedding, they were not allowed to return. 
 
The older boy found a protected place behind a billboard where they could sleep.  They were hungry.  Other than what the Lebanese man had given them, they had been eating scraps and some uncooked rice that they had in their pockets when their father left.  Rev. Park gave the boys some food and water. 
 
Kathi’s parents would gladly have taken them in, but they knew that if their father returned, he would have no way of finding them.  He told the boys that they should remain at that location and that he would check on them every day and provide them with food.  Sometimes the older boy would go with him on his rounds in his truck, but the three-year-old always stayed behind the billboard.  Every night the older boy rejoined his younger brother.
 
About three weeks after Rev. Park first encountered the children, the older boy excitedly greeted him with the announcement that he wanted to introduce him to his daddy who had returned.  He was a very nice man and very grateful for the care his children had received.  Sadly, his wife had been killed by the rebels.
 
The man had secured a room for himself and his two boys.  He took Rev. Park to the room, which was completely bare; all he had was a key to the door.  Kathi’s father provided him with two mattresses, a cooking pot, some rice, and a few miscellaneous supplies. 
 
He stayed in touch with the father, and one day asked if he could put the older boy in school.  The man quickly agreed.  Rev. Park took him to St. Simon Baptist Church and enrolled him in their school.  He paid the tuition and uniform fees, and provided four rolls of toilet paper and a chair, as required by the school.  The boy’s father found work but was still able to care for his younger son.
 
About a year later, the man, who was from the Bassa tribe, decided to move his family to a village where his relatives lived.  Rev. Park never saw them or heard from them again. 
 
These two young boys survived until their own father could return and continue caring for them because of the care provided by Kathi’s father. 
 
A belated Happy Father’s Day to all you dads!

I still remember my mom hanging up the phone and announcing that a ship’s cargo had been unloaded.  Her friend offered to take her to the supermarket as its shelves would be stocked with new supplies.  My mom readily agreed, as she wanted to get there while the supplies were available.  (You never knew how long a ship would remain in the harbor before it could dock at the wharf.)  My mom was gleeful when she returned.  She had found cat food!  There hadn’t been any available so we had been concocting all sorts of meals for our cats.  We were living in Mamba Point so she had gone to Abi Jaoude Supermarket.  After we moved to Sinkor, we shopped at Sinkor Supermarket.
 
While in Liberia in 2012, the Dignity Advocate team went to the supermarket for supplies.  For the four of us who had lived in Liberia in the 70s, Abi Joude’s was part of our childhood.  The other team members must have wondered about us.  It was a store.  We were excited about seeing a supermarket.  By 2012, its ownership had changed hands and the store’s name was Harbel, but we continued to refer to it by the name we knew:  Abi Jaoude’s.
 
After entering the store, we went up and down every aisle, ogling the merchandise on the shelves and squealing with delight.  Eventually we made our purchases.
 
Abi Jaoude or Harbel – it was good to see something familiar in a country that was still in recovery after two civil wars.  It brought back some good memories as well.

I got a close-up and personal introduction to Liberian Lizards not long after arriving in Monrovia in 1976.  We lived in the A&A Apartments on U.N. Drive and didn’t want to let our cats run loose, so I took them out on a leash.  They discovered lizards sunning themselves on rocks and liked to run after them (with me darting along behind them).  After one such outing, I had just stepped into the apartment when I felt something slap against my thigh.  It dropped to the floor and scurried off at lightning speed.  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw that it was one of the lizards.  I had those jeans off before I’d made it to the privacy of my room!  I’m not sure where it ended up.  Neither of my cats was interested in taking up the chase.
 
About a year later, we moved to a house in a section of town called Sinkor.  It was one of three houses on a quiet road on the beach.  The lizards congregated on our back fence, some doing push-ups.  Others ran around on our roof.  We let Inky and Cloudy outside there, and they were a bit more successful in their hunting without the restriction of the leash. 
 
I’ve since learned they are Agama Agama lizards, also called “Rainbow Lizards.”  I think that’s a fitting description.  I recall some spectacular purple and orange lizards.  According to Switch Zoo, most Agamas are green and brown, but dominant males show off by rapidly turning their bodies blue and their heads bright red or yellow.  Those were my favorites!
 
While serving as a dignity advocate, I once again saw these beautiful reptiles on walls, rocks, and rooftops.  In fact, standing under the zinc roof of the laundry area at our guesthouse, I could hear their claws as they scrambled around overhead.  It was music to my ears!  They didn’t like to pose for pictures, but thanks to my zoom lens, I have a few to share.  Perhaps it’s a good thing I couldn’t get too close – I really wouldn’t want to discover another lizard on the inside of my clothes!