Packages of Hope - China 2005

The meeting room was on the first floor, and the cries and squeaks of the babies could be heard resounding off the concrete walls and floors. It sent shivers down my spine. We stopped to take some photographs of the boxes that Packages of Hope had sent. The nannies smiled with glee at the cute animal blankets. We opened only 3 of the boxes, and Director Song asked if we needed to open them all an inventory them. With another baby’s squeal echoing from down the hall, I said no, anxious to see the children. We also opened the delivery of books that YongMing had so graciously ordered, and Steven had diligently delivered, made possible by donated funds from Packages of Hope. They were all there, safe and sound, and were in good condition.

Rounding a corner, we came upon a wooden screen door. The wood frame was painted green. Inside I caught my first glimpse of the little babies, some of them on rocking horses, some of them in walkers. The room was clean terrazzo floor, about 12’ x12’. A radiator type heater was set on one wall, and above it was a large old window facing the sunshine and the lake. There was a standing air conditioner in the corner. To the right as I walked in, there was another door leading to a room that looked to be about 2/3 the size of the room I had originally entered. This room was lined with cribs, where the babies slept, 2 to a crib.

The babies were clothed warmly head to toe, even though the temperature was a cool 70 to 75 degrees F. they wore cloth diapers, contained by an outer brown naugahide covering diaper. These were visible from the gap in their split pants.

Try as I could, my eyes could not stop from becoming wet and my vision blurred by tears. My concentration was completely broken, as I laid down my camera, camcorder, and notepad to just look at one of these beautiful babies, eye to eye. It was clear by the look on their face, that I was not a person who belonged in their daily routine, but one little gave me a non-commital look, as if to say, “ok, so what is THIS person all about?”. I reached out with my finger to the girl in the walker, and she also reached out with her tiny little hand.

Finally, after a year of preparation, money, tireless work, obstacles, prayer, and thousands of miles….

Contact.

I felt the pressure of her grasp, and the tears began to flow freely. I could see that she was growing a bit nervous, so I cooed to her in a calm feminine voice. She still wasn’t so sure.
The other little girls in the room grew a little agitated as our entourage now occupied the entire room. The 2 nannies did their best to both calm the girls, and try to warm the babies to me.
I had brought candy with me, but I think it was lost in translation that I had brought it for the nannies. Instead they brought the bag to me, and suggested that I give it to the children. One of the staff had a 35mm camera, and photographed me giving skittles and Starburst candy to the kids. The staff seemed to really smile at this.

In truth, I really hated to do this. It was a symbol of the opposite of my actual goals here. The candy, though sweet and loved by the kids, was such a temporary dose of happiness, and was actually bad for them. However, the director and the nannies were smiling with glee. I know that giving children candy is a symbol of doting parental love in China, and as such, I was happy to make the staff smile. So I was happy for that. But my gut wrenched as each child clamored to approach me, eyes fixed on the candy. I gave it to them, and then I had to turn away. I just wanted to hold them, and kiss them, and tell them how special they were.

If you are an adoptive parent of a chinese baby, I don’t have to tell you what the babies looked like. The images of our JieJie and MeiMei will be burned in my mind forever. Some chubby rosy cheeked, with little tufts of hair on top. Their clothes and faces were not immaculately clean, but even at our house with 2 children running around, keeping a child clean is a near impossibility. I would say that the nannies were doing a pretty good job considering they had 10 to 12 children to look after. They had crystalline brown eyes, within whose gaze held the meaning of the universe. I knew I would fade before them, and this actually comforted me. I can imagine a world without me in it. However, I will be glad for the world that has their eyes after me.

I was made aware that there were at least 4 children who had been identified by the CCAA to be assigned to families in America. Two of them were in this room. I asked if I could get some detailed information on those children, and Mr. Song said, “no problem”. I took a lot of pictures of the two children. They reluctantly allowed me to hold them, as I spoke softly to them through sobs, “hang in there, kiddo, your mommy is coming soon for you. It won’t be long now. Just hang in there…”. I closed my eyes and said a little prayer, and if my soul is indeed made up of some sort of positive energy, I willed it to her, to keep her safe until her family came.

Grabbing for my camera and notepad once again, I asked to take a picture of these children with their nanny. I asked for, and wrote down the name of the nanny. They asked me why I wanted to do this.

It took me a while to compose myself enough to speak, as my own personal feelings of my two daughters coursed through me. I thought of my precious JieJie and MeiMei, two people in my life I would gladly die for in order to protect. Often I think of situations and events that might cause them harm, and I shudder with adrenaline and fright. The feeling of helplessness and panic comes to me when I think of how she went without my protection in the first 11 months of her life. I realize I have the nannies to thank for this job.

And so, like a stereotypical blubbering mother at her daughter’s wedding, I told the nanny, “I want to take a picture of you with this girl. You can know that many years from now, when understanding comes to her, she will look at this picture in appreciation for all you have done for her.” The nanny gazed in the camera, as she gazed through time to the unknown future, and said hello and goodbye to this precious soul.

I had to get a grip, and so I went to the other room, and tried to shake myself into concentration. I took a few photos of the cribs, as one of the Packages of Hope missions is to provide these to orphanages in the future. Like most beds in China, the crib bottom was hard wood, covered by about an inch of cotton blanket as a sort of mattress. Bundled up towels or pillows are put under the babies’ heads, and at night they are sausaged up tight in thick wrapping of warm blankets, 2 to a crib, with each baby’s head at the end of the crib. It looked a little like a “baby hot dog”, with the heads at either end, and the blankets as a circular bun in the middle.

The next two rooms were a similar scene, except that I told YongMing that I didn’t want to waste time giving out candy. This was a true statement, although I wanted to gracefully bow out of another gut wrenching feeling of giving the children a temporary sugar high, in addition to contributing to tooth decay.

In one room we found a lone boy, whom the nannies nicknamed “the General”. I burst into laughter at the sight of him, and then felt a bit ashamed because I was laughing at him. He was in a walker, and his cheeks were so chubby they seemed to swallow his whole face. His eyes seemed to swell shut with baby fat. Dressed in multiple layers, he looked almost unable to move. However he was vibrant and active, and perfectly healthy. They told me that his mother had abandoned him because he was very premature, and very close to death upon arrival to the orphanage. He was one of the tiniest babies they had ever seen. However, as we could see now, he was busy stomping around in his walker, just like a little General. It was unspoken that his future looked very bright, and his forever family is indeed very lucky.

I was able to visit the other 4 children, making sure to dutifully take the names and pictures of the nannies. In every room I visited I took extra care to shake the hand of every worker and nanny that I met, and thank them from the bottom of all our hearts for the job they’re doing.
The other rooms looked very similar to the first room, beautiful babies, very caring nannies. Some of the children were bubbling and gurgling while tightly wrapped in their blankets. I know there is a Chinese custom of putting the baby faced down, and one baby looked particularly miffed at her position. So with the nanny’s permission, I carefully rolled her over. It was heaven for me.

The nannies also showed me the toy donations from Packages of Hope. In a very helpful move, they described what did and didn’t work as far as toys went. Some broke easily. Others were great for fine motor skills. I thanked them for their recommendations.

We also visited a room where infants with medical problems were laying. I wasn’t allowed to enter, I assume because of the spread of germs, but I was able to get a good look at them through the breezy screen door. There were I.V. bottles hanging from a cord, with clear plastic tubes snaking down to the cribs. I said a prayer for these valiant fighters. For a moment I allowed myself a bit of hate and helplessness. Those tiny babies all so very alone. Fighting. Surviving. I suddenly felt ashamed of my hubris. If there was any time I thought myself courageous for leaving my family and my country and travelling alone thousands of miles, it was now gone. Here were the real fighters. Here were the real heroes.

A hand on my back, YongMing told me it was time to move on. We left the orphanage in a minivan, on the way to tour what turned out to be 2 of the other temporary sites of the SWI. On the way, we passed the old orphanage, now turned into a shopping mall complex. They told me that the playground, weathered by the sun, was stored someplace, but was not reusable. We snaked our way into a maze of single level “homes” to the first SWI location. The surrounding buildings seemed to all share common walls, with doors and slightly different facades being the only way to tell where one dwelling/business/whatever began, and the other one ended. The roads were mostly dirt paved, and dotted with treacherous potholes. We finally came to a stop in a nondescript section of doorways, and I was led into a courtyard area that contained a circumference of rooms which defined the dormitory for primary school orphans. I had the distinct pleasure of meeting these children, some of whom were disabled. I handed out American coins as tokens, and this seemed to go over well. Mr. Song told me that what’s really needed here are new beds. I took a few photos of the existing beds, which appeared to be made of scrap wood material, and looked slightly less comfortable than the infant beds. Again, the bed consisted of horizontal slats covered with an inch thick cotton “mattress”. Some of the beds had been pushed together, obviously so that more than one child could sleep there. He mentioned that most of these beds were 9 years old or older, although they looked much older than that to me. I was greeted with smiles and polite handshakes, and I thanked the caregiver as she took a break from her basin washing. She looked to be breaking a good sweat from the labor.

We walked for a while to the other location, and along the way I caught a lot of stares from children who were on their lunch break. I learned that primary school students get a 2 hour lunch, and they usually go home for these lunches. Some of the kids reached out and shook my hand, and they were about as excited as I was to do so. Of course I was drawn to the little girls, who looked similar to my daughters. They were so bright, energetic, and full of smiles as they hugged each other as they walked down the lane. They would stop this and gasp when I would catch their eyes, and the reaction was a 50-50 mix of fear and secret whispering to their friend, or either rushing towards me, anxious to practice their english “hello!”.

While shaking the hand of every kid I met, I saw Mr. Song look back more and more often as I lagged behind. I put a snap in my step, and caught up to him and we entered a kindergarten facility. Here I found a number of young children, most of whom were mentally disabled, sitting drawing at a big table (at the appropriate height for their cute little chairs) with crayons. They took great pride in each showing me their creations. I was thrilled. I visited a classroom where 4- 6 year old students sat in attention with a teacher at the head of the room. The class was filled with objects and aids for what looked like every subject – math, reading, art, etc.

Sadly I then saw a very desolate room where about 6 or 7 children (some of them disabled) sat against a wall on a low bench. These children were HIV+, and were kept isolated from the other children. There were caregivers in the room, and the children were smiling, but it still was not a pleasant site. The caregivers were smiling and kind, and I thanked them for their hard work. This particular complex had a 2nd floor, and the 2nd floor consisted of dormitories. Mr. Song again showed me the beds that were in a sad state.

He told me that even though the new orphanage will be a modern building designed specifically for SWI facilities, all items within the walls still have to be provided. All the airconditioners and all the equipment (including the beds) will have to be transferred to the new facility.

The Chinese government provides 192 RMB per child per month (no matter what the age). But it is clear that this is not enough, and barely is enough to sustain the children.

Before finally exiting the 2nd site, we took a look in the kitchen. It smelled wonderful, and one of the ingredients, a crushed mild pepper of some sort, had become airborne in the enclosed room, and soon everyone in the room was coughing and wiping their eyes from the sting of the spice. We all had a big laugh.

Finally, we visited the construction site of the new orphanage. On the way, we picked up Mr. Fung, a Party representative to the SWI (every large agency must have a Party official attached to it). Apparently his background is in the medical field, and I’m not sure if I heard right that he was a doctor.

Anyway, the new orphanage site was a massive complex, and it looked as though the skeletal concrete structural members (including the foundation) were all in place. Green netting and scaffolding cocooned the entire building, as it was clear that bricklaying was underway. They said it was going to be complete by the end of the year. Having been involved in construction efforts of power plants with my company, I found this a bit hard to believe. But I later found out that construction had only started in earnest in June, and that realistically it was supposed to finish in May 2006. Mr. Song told me that it costs a small fortune to rent the current facilities, and so they’re very anxious to get the building completed. Of course the speed of the construction depends on funding, which I imagine is not in big supply.

I walked all around the complex, taking video and pictures. It was 8 floors, complete with elevators. Mr. Song told me the first 3 floors would be used as a hospital. I saw the area where Packages of Hope will hopefully install a new playground. They told me that it will be canopied and thus shielded from sun damage.

I was stepping out from the main building, ducking my head to avoid scaffolding, and planting my foot squarely on a 2x4. I felt a mild prick, and recoiled my foot, only to find the 2x4 still attached. Mr. Song let out a howl as he rushed to my side, realizing that a nail had pierced my rubber soled shoe.

However, knowing my foot, and knowing how sensitive it is, I told him not to worry. I was right, as I sat down and removed my shoe and sock. In a big stroke of luck, the nail had only penetrated my shoe, and only found its way to press upon the soft part of my instep. There was a little red mark, but clearly the skin was not broken.

Mr. Song wasn’t so sure, and for the next hour or so, kept on asking how my foot was.
We left the new site, and had a wonderful lunch. There are many regional practices on how to conduct a business lunch, and I soon came to discover that in this particular area, toasting is done frequently. Everyone at the table personally toasted me and my effort for the children. I toasted them in return. They toasted all the families who are supporting and advocating for the children. We toasted the children. We toasted China. I then issued my favorite toast – “Luo Ye Gui Gen” – “Falling leaves return to the root” --- You always come back to the place of your beginnings, and for me, this is China.

After lunch we returned to the orphanage. Director Song took me on a brief tour of the “assisted living” building on the site. He told me that 3 of the residents are over 100 years old. I took a few pictures of the rooms, and met an 83 year old woman with a wide smile and a spry step. She was smiling, and credited her longevity to her optimistic attitude. A large poster on the wall bore a big red Christian cross, and she was proud to show me her Chinese version of the New Testament. She followed us around a bit, chatting all the way, and me and Director Song smiled. All the residents I met at the facility were very nice and greeted me with handshakes and smiles.

We returned to the meeting room in the orphanage, where I videotaped the presentation of the plaque for Carol Zara, along with the letters of all the families. Mr. Song was deeply touched by the plaque, and assured me in a very somber tone that he would personally make sure that the plaque would be near the books in the new orphanage. ( Currently the books would be divided between the sites on an age appropriate level, but all eyes and hopes were on plans for the new orphanage and it’s modern and central facilities). The letters from the families were a big hit, and brought big smiles from the nannies. Mr. Song emphasized that it was great to receive these letters and photographs, and were the inspiration for the nannies.

We then went down a long laundry list of items to discuss. What their needs were, what we could do for them, how we can be utilized, how desperately and passionately we (Packages of Hope and the Bengbu adoptive families) want to help.

One of the more interesting items that I had come with was the subject of Finding Ads. I had recently been monitoring the yahoo egroups I belong to, and came across a post where people were offering to find a particular baby’s finding ad. For those who don’t know, when a baby is abandoned in China, the law stipulates that an ad must be run in a paper for a certain number of days (usually 60) describing the child (and in recent history, a picture was added), where it was found and when. This is done in order to aid the biological parents in finding their “lost baby”. The website offered (for a hefty fee), to find a particular child’s Finding Ad. Repeated queries to this website for the reasoning behind the hefty fee, or what the proceeds were used for, yielded no reply. I was determined to find such ads, and of course, let other people know what I found. And I’d do it for free.

Through Director Song’s generosity, I was given a paper with some finding ads in them. I found out interesting information. As in any country these days, there are a number of different newspapers. The particular paper the Finding Ads were posted in was called “The Young Workers Trade Union Paper”. Unlike the Chinese version of “the New York Times”, or even the analogy to our “National Enquirer”, this paper has very little circulation. In fact, when YongMing (whose talents and abilities in regards to this mission were far beyond those of mortal men) tried to look for this paper outside the orphanage, we couldn’t even find it. It was described to me that “the Young Workers Trade Union” is an organization similar to the Communist Party itself, and the Young Pioneers (the organization that trains young students about the communist party, where the children wear the red scarfs). The workers pay dues, and part of the bylaws are that a periodical (newspaper) has to be published with worker related news. The government actually subsidizes the newspaper, unlike the various other newspapers crowding busy newspaper stands. Because of the limited budget, the circulation is very small, and the readership interest is minimal. Since the orphanage must pay for the running of such ads, this particular paper is advantageous since the fee for running the ad is small. As witnessed by our diligent yet fruitless digging to 3 post offices, a dozen or so newspaper stands, and even a local government office, I can infer that the goal of the finding ad may be little more than following standard procedure for the local law.

One of our objectives was to try to meet with local medical college students to see if we could inspire them to assist in caring for the children of the orphanage, and serve as a conduit for providing medical needs. Mr. Fung responded that there was already a lot of local community volunteer action, and that in the past medical students did volunteer their time at the orphanage. He also mentioned that there were a lot of medical procedures done by the local Chinese hospital. He did not dismiss our efforts, but I think rather he was trying to help us to not duplicate effort. He did provide a detailed list of highly specialized medical equipment that will be needed for the new orphanage. I will have YongMing send this list to a medical doctor I know in China, and get it translated properly into English. These pieces of equipment I suspect are expensive, such as a neo-natal intensive care unit, specialized vital sign monitoring kits, etc.
He reiterated his needs for the new orphanage. Three 3 H.P. airconditioners (large capacity) for the large orphanage “common rooms”. Fifteen 1.3 H.P. (standard) airconditioners for the other rooms. He needs 150 new beds for the older-than-4 orphans, and 50 new cribs for the babies. These would be used to complement/replace the other beds which will have to be used in the new orphanage.

We thanked him again for his openness and generosity. He told me that he was very thankful to our group, and to all the families whose prayers are with them. He told me that he is committed to the children, and that all funds that come in will be used for the children. He also mentioned that he welcomes comments and feedback to do better. This really impressed me. I know that many folks can offer constructive advice, but I also know those whose opinions and words can be very harsh and filled with anger. Many of these people suffer from culture shock, and a lack of understanding of the Chinese way. Others hearts are understandably filled with anger and pain, given their children with specific special needs. Surely Director Song must have understood this as he issued this comment, and I thought it took immense courage to do so.

We took a final picture, and Director Song invited us out to dinner later that evening.
As we were dropped off at the hotel we stood for a moment in the lobby. I was dumbstruck with the success of the day. I know I missed a lot. But still, I think we did very well, and we had a lot of our questions clarified. I was also deeply impressed by Director Song and his staff.
That night I was invited to a sumptuous banquet, where the directors of the Hospital and other party members also attended. It was a long meal of toasting and giving thanks. Director Song then invited me out to go on a city tour the following day with some members of his staff. He regretted that he would not be able to accompany me. I personally would have been surprised if he WAS able to go with me.

I went to bed exhausted, and my notebook filled with scribbled, tear-stained notes.

YongMing and I met Ms. Guo in the lobby the following morning, to take us to JiuShan cave and to the grave of the first Ming emporer’s parents. As we drove out on our journey, I found we were in for a special treat. The driver of the bus was an orphan, and spent his life in the Bengbu SWI system. He is married and has two daughters, one of whom works as an accountant at the orphanage. He proudly tells us that there are 42 local civic leaders who spent their childhood at the orphanage. Apparently, the Bengbu orphanage dates back to before Liberation (1949), and was called “the international Red Cross Home for children”. At the dinner the previous evening, Director Song says a complete history lies in papers in disarray at the temporary orphanage, but he promised that he would compile and publish the history by the time the new orphanage opens.

The tour of the JiuShan caves was incredible. It is a cave that was discovered in the Song dynasty over 1000 years ago, and winds underground for over a kilometre. Bright fluorescent lights illuminate spacious interior caverns and ancient stalactite/stalagmite formations. At the end of the cavern was an underground lake, only traversable by a wooden "johnboat". After the short boat ride, where the Chinese "captain" used the ceiling of the cavern to push us along, the cave snaked upwards to open air.

On our way back to the shuttle bus, we encountered a MiG-15 rusting away in a field. We were told that this plane had shot down some American fighter planes back in the Day.

With the weather turning colder, and daylight running out, we made a brief stop at the first Ming emporer's parent's tomb. It was interesting, although we were all a bit too tired to enjoy it fully.

We stopped on the way back into town to have some dinner. Before the food was brought to us, I had a chance to videotape a short interview with our driver, and ask him some questions about life in the orphanage. I was hoping for a casual and opened style American interview, but I think I got mostly the standard Chinese phraseology. He enjoyed his childhood, he is thankful to all the kind administrators. He was thankful for all he was given.

We ate dinner close to the entrance of the restaurants, and cold breezes hit us each time the floor-to-ceiling glass entrance doors slid open and shut. My thoughts turned to the orphans, and I suddenly felt the need to be near them. Here I was touring and having a hot meal, being taken care of by wonderful guides, while clear white tubes snaked down to the cribs holding the real heroes. They had been there all day fighting while I was out enjoying myself.

My guides were a bit taken aback when I announced that I really wanted to say goodnight to the children. Without questioning it, they agreed.

The van's headlights pierced the darkness as we passed through the orphanage gates. I had been silent on the ride from the restaurant to there. YongMing asked if I was ok. I merely nodded my head affirmatively. The headlights cut off as they came to rest on the orphanage building. I asked if I could just be left there, and catch a cab home later. They were a bit surprised by this request, and said no, that I should only stay for about 20 minutes.

The driver had called ahead, and the nannies were already outside ready to greet me, smiles on their faces. Our footfalls resounded off the floor as we approached the silent room. The nanny there informed me through YongMing that the babies were just about all asleep, as she then flipped on the light. I think she was thinking that I was there to take a last minute look or inspection of the kids.

None of them realized my true intentions.

Confusing them, I turned off the light, and gave them all a "shhhh!". I took a small wooden chair, and placed it next to one of the cribs, and reached my hand out, and just started stroking a little girl's head, softly. The nannies and the touring entourage were in the next room, whispering rapidly in confusion. I didn't want to take time to explain. I knew that sooner or later they'd either figure it out, or ask me to leave. I didn't have much time.

The little girl went to sleep after a long sigh.

Then I moved my chair to a crib with a restless girl who couldn't seem to get herself to sleep. I hushed her and patted her gently, as I just hugged the crib, just as I had done to my JieJie, after she first came home.

Crying came quickly, as I wept without sound, tears like rivers down my face. I just wanted to stay there, to be with them, as JieJie and MeiMei had been there without me.

Pain... unanswered questions...helplessness....

It was YongMing who embraced me from behind, patting me on the back and whispered in my ear, "C'mon Jeff, it's time to go. Don't worry, they will take good care of them."

I don't remember much about leaving that place. I hope I remembered to thank them all again, and to thank the guides for a wonderful day of caring for me and paying for my meals.

YongMing patted me on the back.

I thought about blogging, but instead just fell asleep.