It is not extraordinary people who save this world–it is people who not only see the pain in this world, but act on it.
Many of us look away, turn the television off–we hide from the eyes who need us.
The activists and movement makers and give a damners are the people who see need and can’t look away.
The ones who stay up at night in agony with what they can’t do–and then go back into this world with a fighting heart and do what they can.
When we throw love into the face of poverty and of need, we do change this world.
I love the humans who feed the dog with jagged ribs their sandwich.
I love the people who practice compassion and walk forward with love and accountability for all beings on this earth.
So how do activists begin?
I stumbled across this story of beginnings from Andrew Burson, president and founder of Kote Sabon’ last week.
Kote Sabon was founded in 2012, and their mission is to provide the underprivileged children of Haiti the foundation necessary to follow whatever dreams they may conjure.
Kote Sabon’s dream is to build a boarding school where unwanted children are given not only a life-saving education, but a place they can call home.
Kote Sa Bon is creole for “Where it is good”.
Andrew is not someone who looked away.
Andrew saw the need staring him in the eyes–in this case, two pairs of eyes, Harold and Hilik.
In Andrew’s words:
“When I first met Harold and Hilik, we were in the midst of a yearly summer camp I co-organize in the northern part of Haiti. We were staying in the same apartment, in the room next to theirs.
After a few days, I discovered that they were brothers, that their mother had died and that their father wanted nothing to do with them. Their new “guardians” seemed to despise them. They’d beat them severely and regularly. They would leave them alone for days without food or water. Neighbors would complain but the guardians didn’t seem to care.
When the guardians returned home one night, I asked if it would be okay for the boys to hang out with us for a day, to learn and play with the other kids at our camp. The idea of a day without them seemed welcome, but we were to “be careful” as they were “very bad boys”. I told them we could handle them, and told the boys to be ready the next morning at 7am if they wanted to go. They eagerly nodded their heads.
6:50am the next morning there they were, sitting next to the car with their little backpacks, ready to go. They had woken up by themselves as their guardians were still asleep, which was pretty impressive for a 5 and 7 year old. We spent the day playing games, learning, and taking field trips around town. It was clear that they weren’t “bad boys”, just boys, boys who wanted what all little boys want; to play and laugh and belong somewhere.
What started as a day turned into a little over a week, and each day the boys seemed a little better; a little more comfortable, a little more open, a little happier. When finally, the day came when we had to leave. The night before, I explained to them as best I could that we were leaving and that we’d miss them. They seemed sad. Their faces were expressionless and they wouldn’t look at me. But all the same, we had to go.
The next morning I went to the car and to my surprise there they were, sitting next to the car with all their belongings. Sadly, I asked my co-founder Jimmy to better explain to them what was going on. He said he tried but they thought maybe they could come with us anyway. Carefully, and as best I could, I told them that they couldn’t come with us, that their home was here, but that one day we would be back and we’d see each other again.
They weren’t buying it… Not one word. And showing little emotion, they grabbed their things and disappeared back into the house.
I almost cried… I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t have a place or a plan or even enough room in the car. I barely knew what I was doing with the few kids we were looking after. Still, during the drive back it clawed at me. Thinking about the days and nights ahead of them. Thinking of the beatings, the fear, the sadness. I couldn’t bear it. I broke. An hour down the road we called and asked the guardians if Harold and Hilik could come live with us, and without hesitation they said they could. That they had been looking for someone to take them for sometime anyway.
People often ask me where all this is going, what my five year plan is, where I’m going to get funding, what if this and what if that. And the answer is: I don’t know. Don’t get me wrong. I have dreams and fears about what I want to do here. I want to make things better. I want to build a place and a school in the country that these kids can call home. I want to be able to tell unwanted kids like these that they too have a place where they belong. That they too have a place they can call Home. I don’t know how I’m going to do it. And I don’t know where all the money is going to come from. All I know is that today, I’m not fucking leaving them behind. Today they’re coming with us.
And today, we’re going to the beach.” – Andrew Burson, President and co-founder of Kote Sabon
For more information on Kote Sabon or to support visit http://kotesabon.org