Thank You Translators!

For all the time, money and preparation that was put into the four weeks of camp this summer, one thing is clear: we could not have done it without our translators. Language barriers make it difficult enough to visit a foreign country, let alone try to bond with a child you have never met.

I have found that some language is universal: hand gestures, tickling, smiles, laughs. Even games such as rock-paper-scissors, duck duck goose, and go fish span cultures. But specific communication is impossible without translation.

And for that, we want to say a special thank you to the translators who have volunteered their time to be with us. Many have come as much as 12 hours by train to join us in Beijing. They are a vital part of the team and we are grateful for their support.

Editor’s note: Indeed, the translators make the summer camp possible. They spend more time with the orphans than the American volunteers—up to 16 hours a day, seeing to it that the kids eat, shower, sleep, behave and have a good time. We have witnessed the love that our Chinese translators have for the children, the intelligence they possess and the dedication that, frankly, inspires us to work harder and love more deeply. Thank you, translators, for your tireless work and friendship. We love you all.

— Patti Diaz

Threads

On Tuesday, we visited a royal park in Beijing. The rain that had threatened all morning became a reality, dampening what would have been a glorious afternoon of walking and enjoying the sights. My family group had only one umbrella among the four of us. It was a wet experience.

My translator purchased several lotus flower centers, as they contain edible seeds. We peeled them on the bus back and my buddy, Lily, started to break apart the stem. Inside, translucent fibers kept the parts together. My translator explained to us that the action was significant. The lotus stem symbolizes something broken, yet still connected.

Lily continued to break the stem and finger the threads. As I watched her, I wondered if the symbolism meant something to her. Does she feel a mental or emotional connection to her parents? They are not only responsible for her existence, but also for the growing up process. A child’s need for love and affirmation does not disappear simply because her parents do.

The fibers of the stem reminded me of a spider web. It may be nearly invisible, but it’s strong and sticky and doesn’t go away. The idea the plant represents—being separated but still attached—applies to all of us, really. There is an eternal thread that connects us to Someone Else. Physically, we are not all orphans, but spiritually, we are. I am thankful for that adoption, open to everyone, which can make us whole again.

— Patti Diaz

Breaking Down the Walls

On the second day of our weeklong camp, Bring Me Hope volunteers and staff took 90 orphans to see the Great Wall. This imposing structure was built to keep northern invaders out of China. Although the country no longer needs this physical defense, I believe that the legacy of the wall lives on among its people.

In the same way that a nation erects defenses because it does not trust its neighbors, many of the children who have come to camp have presented barricades. They have built their own walls to keep people out.

These children were the most difficult to love this last week. They consistently rejected attempts at friendship. The closer you got, the farther away they wanted to be. They probably didn’t intend to hurt us, but it was impossible not to take their reactions personally.

Another sad thing about walls is how they keep people in as well as out. Camp is not just about swimming in the pool, playing games, or making crafts. It is about forming relationships. These are what give meaning to the experience. The kids who guarded their emotions denied themselves that key element.

As a team, and as individuals, we were committed to breaking down those walls in the week we had. Some experienced little discernible progress with their buddies. Others needed only a few hours. The height and depth and number of walls varied in each child.

But by Friday, one thing ws clear: in some way or another, whether big or small, all the children had begun demolition. Many of those who had presented the toughest exterior wrote goodbye letters that brought tears to their American buddies’ eyes.

As we packed around the three departing buses, every window revealed a tear streaked face. While it was sad beyond words, it was also a victory. The orphans were allowing themselves to feel again. It was a healing hurt.

— Patti Diaz