The I Can Project: Because He Doesn’t Go to School

It was a shining example of what going abroad means to me, and a typical snapshot of life on the Race: nothing going as I expect it to.  We told villagers that the concert would be at 2:00 in the afternoon, knowing that it would really be at 3:00.  It turned out that at 3:00, we began the children’s songs to entertain the younger crowd until 4:00, when the adults would arrive and the real concert would start.  Then, at 4:15, the pastor of the church came up to apologize that very few adults had come.  He explained that Friday is market day in Minoterie, so although he welcomed our group and appreciated our intentions, in future he looked forward to concerts scheduled on a better day.  The concert finally ended at 5:15, and by 5:45 we were back at the Mission of Hope campus–two hours later than usual.

Since the focus of the concert didn’t end up being adults, much of the time became another opportunity to build relationships with the Minoterie kids and love on them a little more.  Team Kenosis has visited Minoterie several times, so I was friends with many of the kids already.  But the boy who plunked himself next to me was one I didn’t know.

“Comment ou rele?” I asked.  What’s your name?

He looked at me with a vaguely sour expression.  “Rodelson.”

I smiled.  “Hi, Rodeson!  My name’s Alice.  How are you?  Do you speak French?” I asked in a mix of fluid French and English scattered with broken Creole phrases.

“Oui,” came the sullen response.

Undaunted, I began to pepper the boy with questions.  He slouched, loathe to respond, but I was undeterred.  I gradually learned that he was ten years old and lived with his parents, three brothers and six sisters.  They did go to church.  Yes, he attended school, he said, but he wouldn’t tell me his favorite subject.  “Mathematics?” I prompted.  “Reading?”

“Mathematics,” he shrugged when I refused to let up.

Our mostly one-sided conversation ended when the band started to play, but I continued to cajole him, dragging him to his feet when the band waved for everyone to stand and coaxing him to sing in Creole and in English.  By the end of the afternoon, he would smirk, smile, refuse to stand, and look embarrassed when I did the hand motions to the songs.  I had no idea whether I was getting through to this unresponsive boy, but through the entire worship afternoon I never stopped trying.

Rodelson left my pew and wandered off without me noticing just before the end of the concert.  I shrugged and turned to the children still sitting around me.  When the music ended, I stood and wandered among the friends I knew fro our several village visits, hugging them and saying goodbye.  I was on my way to the door when I heard my name.

“Alice!”

I turned and walked towards the call.  It was Rodelson, wearing a grin wider than any I’d seen all afternoon.  He grabbed me in a tight hug, and I looked over his head at my teammate, my eyes wide in surprise.   Rodelson let go, then hugged me again.

I’d made a connection with this kid?  When did that happen?  I’d thought I was just being a nuisance, pestering him for two hours straight.

Rodelson let go again and looked up at me.

Blindsided by this revelation but honored to have been entrusted with the truth, I struggled for words.  “Oh no,” I said with a sad smile.  “Why not?”

And then I kicked myself for the stupid question.  I knew why not; he’d told me himself.  He was one of ten children.  There couldn’t possibly be enough money to send them all to school.  Even one would be lucky to receive a few scattered years of education.

Rodelson didn’t answer, but instead hugged me a third time.  I held him tightly, my heart breaking for this dear child who had had to lie to me when he said he went to school.  In the busy press of people heading for the door, I was unable to say anything more before we separated and he disappeared into the crowd.  But his wide, genuine grin and honest admission stuck in my mind as I waited to board our bus back home.

* * *

I grew up in a family that highly values education.  I’ve been blessed throughout my life with opportunities to receive an excellent education myself, and I firmly believe in the necessity and importance of education as a means of empowering communities.  It is through education that children are given hope and opportunity for a future.

Mission of Hope shares this vision, and has established education advancement as one of its core pillars.  In order to offer a quality education to the children of Haiti, the organization has instituted a Christ-centered curriculum among all its partner schools.  MOH also arranges child sponsorships, enabling families to send their children to school at a highly reduced rate.  Sponsorships cover 90% of the cost of students’ education.  The remaining 10%, which covers administrative costs, is payed by the student’s family, requiring them to intentionally invest in their child’s education.

No child able to pay the 10% is denied an education, but only 3,500 of the 7,000 students attending MOH partner schools have sponsors.  This means that MOH itself is funding the education of the remaining 3,500 students.  The organization’s greatest need is for more sponsors for children.  A sponsorship of just $35 per month will fund a child’s education, offering them hope of a brighter future.  If you are interested in supporting a child’s education and helping MOH transform lives in Haiti, click here to select a child online.  If you have questions about sponsorship, email [email protected].

In order to bless MOH, J Squad has created The I Can Project to encourage others to sponsor a child.  To learn more about The I Can Project and education at MOH, check out my teammate Deborah’s blog.