The Children of Bethlehem

MOP Reflections: Journal Excerpt 2

Caressing a young-un

  Visiting Bethlehem, the children’s centre, was - as always - a touching experience. We started by simply dressing and feeding the children, but this still got to me. Firstly, I could barely put on a diaper, and the entire situation was compounded by the fact that their limbs are usually bent out of shape, so dressing them is not straightforward. Also compounded by the fact that I am not a naturally gentle person, so I was trying to be extra gentle with them, but it actually requires a bit of man-handling because they can’t bend their limbs on their own so we’ve gotta do it for them. But once that was done, it was basically time for feeding them, which is a whole new ball game.

I fed a young-un named Kristie*, who insisted on getting up every five minutes for a ten second walk/spin-around. It wasn’t too bad because she always quickly found her way back to the spoon of food I had waiting. But again, I was struck by the simple fact that I was feeding her. She didn’t respond to me or any of my actions, other than the spoon of food which prompted her to open her mouth and chew and swallow, and me physically escorting her back to her seat when she strayed. 

It made me wonder what she understood and what she didn’t. Did she form coherent thoughts? Or incoherent thoughts? Or thoughts at all? Because all her actions were either fidgety or instinctual. Her eyes were unfocused and crooked, and never actually looked at me. Could she see me? Or if she could see me, how did her brain interpret me? And her surroundings? She could obviously move about but I don’t know what she sees, what she doesn’t and what she understands of it all. Does she understand when we talk, but just doesn’t have the capacity to learn and imitate? She doesn’t seem to respond to our voices either, so does she hear words or does it just sound like noise? Give her a hug and she might not respond. But she’ll climb you like a tree and attach herself to you the moment you stand still - her own way of showing affection. I suppose no matter how mentally incapable you are, nature provides you with the instincts that keep you alive. Kristie and the other residents could open, chew, swallow, excrete (hence diapers), breathe, grow and many other things that come instinctually. But showing affection was another story.

My aunt and I hold the kiddies - so precious!

For some children (or residents, for even the older ones acted the same) showed affection easily, readily and frequently. Take Andrew*, who hugged you like a brother, each and every time. Or Clove* from Jacob’s Well, who hugs me, puts my arm around her, and tells me she loves me and misses me. Or Mildred* (also from JW) who told me just today that she thought about me last night and prayed for me, and kissed me on the cheek like we’re buddies. Or take any of the residents who hugs and cuddles up to you like family, with joyful smiles on their faces. It is truly lovely and beautiful.

But then there are those who don’t even respond to you or show affection, which makes me wonder, do they know they’re being touched or caressed? They cannot even express a response to your touch…their eyes don’t see you…their bodies don’t turn towards you…and their hands don’t squeeze yours when you place your hand in theirs. How easy it would be to neglect such a child who does not (sorry, cannot) even reciprocate your affection, or, if they do, they cannot express it.

Next, I fed a girl called Keisha*, who Simone*, the nurse, described as ‘complicated bad’. She has throat problems and her body is so severely twisted it makes scoliosis look like child’s play. The length of her body (with its bent limbs) is maybe 3 feet long, her head is tiny, her spine twists way out of proportion to the side, her legs are bent almost to her chest. I wonder how they dress her.

Simone instructed me, ‘Do your best’. So she entrusted me with the bottle of pureed rice, beans and veg (yum) and showed me what to do. I guess one of Keisha’s ‘complications’ is her tongue because the minute the sucker/nipple-thing of the bottle enters her mouth, her tongue lunges forward in a lock almost, blocking the path of the sucker. But when there’s some relaxing of her tongue and there’s wiggle room, you push the sucker in and let the puree drop into her mouth. I am doubtful she was even able to suck on the sucker, let alone chew. So I suppose even some instincts don’t carry, because it seemed she was only capable of swallowing. According to Simone, ‘stop when she stops’. So when Keisha no longer seemed to be accepting of the sucker, I took it out for a bit then tried again. It was a slow and steady process.

After about one-third of the bottle was done, she seemed to need to cough. So I eased up for a while so she could let it all out. But: a) she could barely manage the cough itself, which, I could imagine, sucks because unmoving phlegm in your throat is the worst and I could hear the congestion in her poor nasal passage and b) even between bouts of cough-attempts, when I put the bottle to her lips her mouth would open wide wide (in protest I assumed) - and I wasn’t about to drop the puree straight down her throat for her to choke, no sir-ee.

This went on for a while (with me feeling hopelessly useless but not wanting to give up) till Simone noticed me and relieved me of the bottle saying that Keisha cannot always handle it. Maybe her throat problems make it painful to swallow? I don’t know. Simone mentioned her having an appointment with the ENT specialist but how does the doctor even inspect her when she can’t respond, express, or obey any commands to open her mouth?

Oh! I almost forgot the other significant part of feeding Keisha. Another thing with the children in cribs at Bethlehem is that you never can tell their age. Since a lot are bedridden with unmoving, twisted limbs that grow at unnatural angles, it’s hard to gauge age.

So there I was thinking, oh she - Keisha - must be around 3-5 years old, but no, when I asked another caretaker, she told me that Keisha was 19. 19!

19!

So yea, I actually check the ID card on her crib, and she was born in 1996...like yo that’s my birth year and she’s turning 20 in November...yo that’s practically my age and here I was feeding her like I was the adult and she was the child when actually we’re the same age but circumstance provided me this brilliant life and her a mere existence and what am I doing to be of influence in the world? I don’t know.

Contemplating: how am I making a positive impact in the world?

Missed the intro? Check it out here!