My last day in Odessa I went out on social patrol with the organization. Essentially you get in a van with some workers and usually a couple of kids who live at the shelter come to help. When I went a reporter for canada's NPR came as well. The pastor who started this child here was also a photographer and helping journalists document these kids is important to him. We then drive to places kids are known to be living, tell them we have food and medicine and wait for them to come get it. Some can hardly walk from nerve damage from drugs, others are on drugs at the time. They are all dirty. Some sport obvious injuries... Part of a foot is gone or their face looks like a mashed up stretch Armstrong.
They get soup and bread and random tablets. Workers talk to them. We all smoke. I say little more than hi and how are you, but I let them pull cigarettes put of my pack with there muddied hands and light them for those who are shaking. I gave a lip gloss i never use to the one girl we found who was living on the streets after losing a boyfriend to prison, a baby from the womb, and her apartment in the wake. Many of them choose the streets because they are scared of cops and somehow that makes sense to them. Many are from other countries like moldova. Many aren't ready to get clean. The ones that are true orphans would have to go to real orphanages which is apparently an undesirable place to go. Most basically a normal life with strict rules and school and no drugs or booze is too much for them. But when they decide to change, these organizations are here to help.
It's hard to express how I feel from those moments. I was reminded of my life goals and my immense love of helping others. I didn't feel depressed about it at all. I felt great because I am someone who will help a lot of people.
-- Post From My iPod
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