Night lights

By Bryan Trogdon

This summer I went on a short term mission trip to La Paz, Bolivia. The following article is about one of the visits to minister to the street children. For more information, go to BolivianStreetChildren.org.

"Daddy, can you turn on the night light?" my six year old ask as I finish tucking him in. "Of course I can." I say, smiling as I walk over to the dresser at the end of his bed to turn on the light. A soft warm glow fills the room as if to say, "Don't worry, no monsters here."

As I close the door, I pause for a minute to watch him and reflect on how blessed I am. I have a wonderful life filled with people who love me. Standing there, my thoughts start to drift back to another place, another night, another child.

Only on this night the place is dark, the child is cold and hungry, and the monsters in the night are real. The place is La Paz, Bolivia, and the monsters are poverty and hopelessness.

It's been three weeks since our team put on our winter coats, hats and gloves before heading out to the streets. "Dress warm." our mission leader, Dr. Chi says, "It's going to be cold again tonight." At over 12,000 feet in altitude, most nights in La Paz are cold, but it's also the winter season.

As we ride in the taxis that are taking us to the plaza were the homeless children gather I'm lost in thought. "Am I up to this? What was I thinking volunteering for a short term mission?" I say a prayer.

At first I'm surprised at how many children are on the plaza at this time of night. It's after 10:00 PM. As we move toward the group of children, they give us a hard look. "Why are you here? What do you want?" their eyes say. But then they see the small Asian man in the orange coat. "Chi! Chi! Chi!" the call goes up.

Dr. Chi has been coming to see the children for the past seven years and the children cherish his visits. The hard looks are replaced with looks of curiosity, "You're with Chi? What's your name? Where are you from? Do you want to play soccer?

The Children range in age from 7 to 18. The questions come from every direction and I find myself smiling at how every answer draws two more questions. Then it hits me, these children are starved for attention and compassion. Their hard stares were not out of malice, they were out of fear. Fear of the past and circumstances that brought them to the streets. Fear of a future with no hope, and fear of the day to day survival that is their present.

A small boy by the name of Richard draws me into a game of "How do you say in English..." which then turns into a game of "How do you say in Spanish..." There is laughter from the children as I stumble over the pronunciations. When they smile, you can see just how young they really are. "They're too little to be out here." I think to myself.

Dr. Chi tells us we need to start moving down toward the sewers. The police patrol the plaza and if a street child lingers to long, he or she is in danger of being beaten. The message is clear, "Stay in the dark where you belong."

We climb the fence that leads down to the sewers. I ask why they live down here. The answer is simple "Because no one else wants to." As we move further down the stench of urine becomes overwhelming. I start breathing through my mouth.

Toward the bottom I see a young girl sitting on the ground with a blanket wrapped around her. It's not until we get closer that I hear the baby cry. He was born only 6 weeks ago and she is looking for Chi. Not for the baby, but for herself. She's been stabbed. I feel sick.

After Dr. Chi attends to the girl and her baby, we head under the street to where the children live. Its pitch black and we turn on our flash lights. The ledge drops down over 15 feet and you need to grab hold of some exposed electrical cable to start the climb down. The children have notched out a foot hold half way down but you still find yourself left with a 4 foot drop to the uneven ground below.

As the children start down I find myself holding my breath while each one makes the decent. We shine the flashlight on the ground to light their way and I wonder how they do this in the dark.

At the bottom we see the shelters were the children live. They are constructed of discarded bricks, milk crates and what ever the children can find. I almost knock over one of the walls when I make the mistake of resting my hand against it.

The shelter is no higher than 3 feet tall with a thin piece of plastic serving as a roof. The floors are covered with blankets that are caked with the sewage the children track in on their shoes. When we look inside we see 7 children huddled together. There's warmth and safety in numbers.

Dr. Chi tells us some terrible stories about what has happened to some of the children he has met here. Beatings and stabbing are a daily event down here and rule is simply this: "Try to survive this day." We help some of the children who are injured back to their shelters.

Dr Chi tells us it's time for us to start heading back and one of the children ask if I'm coming back, "I hope so." I say. "I will say a prayer to God that you have a safe journey home." he answers back. His sincerity overwhelms me and I can only smile back at him. If I try to talk the tears will come. There will be time for that later.

As we leave, the children watch silently as the darkness that is their world slowly slithers back in. I understand now that it wasn't the warm glow of our flashlights that they longed for. It was the light of God 's love manifested in the team that went to visit the children that night.

Standing back in my child's doorway, I think of how that night has changed me and I say a prayer "Father in heaven, please let your love continue to light the night for the street children of La Paz." And then from deep within my soul I here His answer, "Of course my child."