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7-12-10; Conflict of Perspectives Print
Hope you all, or is that ya'all. Honestly that is what I began with ya' all, now do these Texans have an affect on me? Let me try again. Hope all of you had a nice weekend. I don't think it's been as hot but our pace has been vigorous.

Enjoy some of our teams writings. The first is from Camella Binkley, long time friend and wife of GIBTK board member Bruce Binkley. The second is a new friend introduced to us by Karla De Simone another long time friend and personal cheerleader. Her kids tell me in their mother's (Karla) eye's I can do no wrong! Yea Karla D!

CONFLICT OF PERSPECTIVE; Camella Binkley

"As our capable driver, Giao, safely maneuvers us through the streets of Danang, my hearing is assaulted by the numerous horns honking. I begin to think about the use of car horns in Vietnam. My American perspective of car horns - we use our horns as a statement of aggression - warning drivers to get out of our way. Car horns in Vietnam? Much different perspective. Horns are used as an act of courtesy - by honking their horns, drivers tell one another, "I see you and I want you to know I am here." A conflict of perspective.

New friends at Hoi Anh orphanage
kids

Our journey takes us to Hoi An orphanage. Once again, my senses are assaulted - the smells, the sights. And, I have the opportunity to ponder on another conflict of perspectives. We Americans, arriving at the orphanage, are "armed" with candy and small bottles of bubbles to give to the children. As I pass out my allotment of bubbles, I consider another conflict of perspective. When giving a bottle of bubbles to a child at home in America, in most cases I would be giving the child something to do, something to free up my time and fill up theirs. Here at Hoi An orphanage, I give bubbles to make a connection with a child - to open the door so I can become part of their world. Definitely a conflict of perspective.

  As I move closer, what I see is a shock. From my perspective, this child, is a prisoner in her own body. Her limbs are deformed, her head the size of a small watermelon, she is covered in scabies, and wearing filthy clothes (including a handmade diaper).

swinging basket
basket

At Hoi An, my eyes are riveted to a child in a swinging bassinet peering over the wooden sides. It is evident that a disability prohibits this child from participating in activities as some of the other children are.

She is the victim of hydro encephalitis (water on the brain) - something easily corrected at birth in America. And then, something happened, she reached out her arms. I picked Hong up and we began a short journey to the courtyard.  Immediately, my perspective changed. Her face broke into a smile as she saw the sun and the other children playing. She began to laugh and move both her hands and feet with giddy excitement. No longer a prisoner in her own body, a simple action of picking up a 12 year old child and carrying her to the courtyard changed her perspective and mine. Today for me - this was a conflict of perspective.

Hold me?
hydro in bed

 

Power of a loving hug!
hydro smile

But I wonder....will I experience in my lifetime another conflict of perspective? Will the perspective I have experienced of Vietnamese children suffering from disease and imprisoned in their own bodies one day be conflicted? That is my hope...that one day that perspective will be no more as I see children's lives in Vietnam full of hopes, dreams and health! I long for that conflict in perspective.

GIBTK has committed to be instrumental in seeing that perspective change. I encourage YOU to be a part of that commitment."

Marianne Smith, Philiadelphia teacher;


So much to see and smell.... 
"This is my first time in Viet Nam and my first hands-on experience with GIBTK. It won't be an easy thing to describe but Robert begged, so I'll try. My arrival in Ho Chi Minh City was an assault on the senses- the smells (fish mingled with incense and other exotic and not so exotic unknowns), the noise, the heat and the people, lots of them. Robert spent the first hour of arrival instructing us how to get across a street without getting killed- go slow and pray!

 

 

Marianne feeling the love of a child
maraianne

 

  Then began the introduction to the work of GIBTK which was an equal assault on the emotions. Was I just exhausted from the jet lag and strangeness of it all or is it really impossible to hold back the tears when a crippled boy who has been laying in a crib his whole life smiles and pulls himself up on the bars and reaches out when he hears your voice and feels the touch of your hand brushing the flies away from his face.  

   He smells of urine- do I pick him up or walk away? I think he is too big and awkward to pick up so I blow some bubbles for him and he smiles again-bigger this time and then I unwrap a lollipop and hand it to him and he is looking at me now with recognition as if we have something to say to each other and I know for a moment I have touched the hand of God."

 

><((((º>  BBlessed

 
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