There's always someone worse off than you

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Originally uploaded by kelly's World2007

Yesterday, when I arrived home after my night shift, I stumbed across (literally) the local newspaper. On the front page was a story of a young family of 12 from Somalia. The youngest child being 2 and the eldest 19. The article described the horrors the family left behind in Somolia and the hardships they now face as immigrants to Canada.

In Somalia, their home was burned to the ground by armed guerillas. They spent 15 years nomadically moving from one refugee camp to another. In September 2005, they were chosen by the federal government for resettlement in Canada. During their first year in Canada, the government barely provided enough for the family to get by. The money that was given to them for food had to be used for shelter because they didn't have enough for rent. They currently live in a small 3 bedroom apartment with broken down "third-hand" furniture and appliances. Above their fridge sits a box of Cheerios and in their kitchen is a table with three broken down chairs. To add injury to insult, the family's been asked to move once again (they keep moving from place to place) due to noise levels and "excessive" use of electricity. (I'd be having ''excessive" use of electricity issues too with 10 kids!)

I couldn't go to bed without first calling the paper to find out what we could do to help. I thought about what it would be like to continuously worry about how I would put food on the table for Isabella and Peter and to not have enough clothes for them to wear. This family had already been to hell and back. They deserved a break and a litlle Christmas in August.

After a bit of phone tag, I got a hold of Umoja, the outreach program the family had been dealing with.

I explained the situation to Paul and Isabella. Caught up in my enthusiasm of wanting to help, I unfortunately forgot to tone down the story for Isabella. She started having tears falling down her cheeks. She made me very proud!

So, today Isabella and I went through our stuff to see what we could share and made a trip to the grocery story. Workers at Umoja delivered our things this evening.

Merry Christmas Hirsi family!