Our trip began in some places we’re just starting to work– desperately poor villages with great needs. Haiti is dotted with rural villages that lack development and basic services, like clean water, schools and health care. And to be honest, the poverty in this country can seem overwhelming.
Belony and her brother Widlin hold the little white tablets–deworming medicine–that will make their stomach aches go away and allow them to grow.
Children in tattered, dirty clothes and bare feet ran out to greet us. Some had bloated bellies—a likely sign of intestinal parasites. This was confirmed as their mothers and grandmothers talked of painful stomach aches that woke their children at night.
“She has stomach aches all the time—so bad that sometimes she cries out in her sleep,” said Angelicia a mom of two. Her 10-year-old daughter, Belony, a wide-eyed girl with braided hair, looked no older than 7. Her legs were stick-skinny and her growth was clearly stunted. “She doesn’t eat well, and even if she eats, she’s not growing.”
We all watched with excitement as Belony chewed up one of the small white deworming pills we were distributing to children in the village that day. What a joy it was to be able to tell Angelicia that her little girl would be feeling much better very soon!
“I’m so happy … so happy,” she said. “I pray that the next time you come, you will see a change in Belony.” We assured her that this was certain.
As we traveled further along dusty, twisting mountain roads, I began to see evidence of progress and hope in villages where we’ve worked in for many years. After several hours, we arrived in a village I first visited in 2009 called Lyncee. There was such a
Here are some of the healthy, happy kids we met in Lyncee, where World Concern donors have been giving goats and changing lives for many years.
contrast in the appearance of the children in this village compared to others we’d seen. Their eyes were bright and their bodies looked strong and healthy. Even their clothes were clean and pressed. The biggest difference I noticed—they were all smiling and laughing as they proudly showed off the goats they’d received from World Concern.
World Concern built a school here in Lyncee, more than 15 years ago. It’s totally self-sustaining now, and the classrooms are bursting with enthusiastic learners. They’re learning math and reading, of course, but they’re also learning animal husbandry through raising and breeding their goats.
Delona, an 18-year-old student who is studying in 6th grade (not uncommon in rural Haiti), received her first goat last year. Her goat got pregnant, and through the sale of that baby goat, she was able to pay for almost an entire year of school.
“It’s all I have, and it’s providing for us,” she said.
As I was talking with the children, a sweet, freckle-faced girl with a cheerful grin caught my attention. I instantly I recognized her as a young girl I had met in 2009.
Her name is Marguerite (I remembered this because it’s my grandmother’s name). Marguerite is now a healthy, growing 12-year-old! She’s doing great in school and, thanks to support from World Concern donors, she’s able to pay her tuition and other expenses through income from several goats she’s owned over the years.
I was so encouraged to see the progress in Lyncee. When you give gifts through the Global Gift Guide, you are a part of this progress.
Together, we are helping put an end to extreme poverty—one child, one family, one village at a time.
Please visit donateagoat.org to donate a goat and change a life this Christmas.
As NGOs shift our response from disaster to development, there are still many hungry people to feed.
Getting food into the hands of the hungry in the Horn of Africa is about to go high tech. Seattle-based humanitarian organization World Concern is piloting a new mobile phone app in the drought-stricken region, aiming to streamline the process of tracking food distributed to hungry families and payment to local merchants.
World Concern has been distributing food and emergency supplies to families affected by the Horn of Africa drought since July 2011. As famine spread throughout the region, aid organizations struggled to reach millions of people, especially those living in southern Somalia. World Concern distributed vouchers to hungry families who were able to purchase food from local merchants. The system supports the local economy and helps ensure food reaches those in greatest need.
This method has been extremely effective, even in dangerous and hard-to-reach places. More than 30,000 vouchers have been distributed so far, each representing a two-week supply of rations for a family of six.
World Concern staff members learn to use a new mobile app to track food distributions in the Horn of Africa.
The new mobile app allows field staff to use a tool they are already carrying (a mobile phone) to record data in the field (instead of a pencil and paper), and negates the need for re-entry into a computer at a later date. This saves time and reduces the risk of errors.
The system tracks beneficiaries and the food they receive via bar codes that are scanned into a mobile phone. Merchants have an I.D. card with a barcode, which is also scanned so they can be paid via wire transfer almost instantly.
The mobile app was developed by Seattle start up ScanMyList, whose founder, Scott Dyer, created a mobile application to help retail businesses track inventory. When Dyer saw one of World Concern’s vouchers, he realized the same system could help the humanitarian organization reach people during a disaster more efficiently and track aid more accurately.
Dyer traveled to the Horn of Africa with World Concern to kick off the pilot program, which will put the new technology into action in the field this month, as 4,000 food vouchers are distributed in Eastern Kenya and Southern Somalia.
“Not many people can say they’ve birthed an idea and seen it to fruition,” said Dyer. “It’s super exciting.”
The real brain behind this technology is the custom database, which is not only programmed to receive data from mobile phones, but to “think” about what it receives. The database will identify possible duplicate entries, flag significant variations in data, and crosscheck entry errors. Then, the database is programmed to generate custom reports in real time. World Concern staff can view these on a website, seeing exactly how many meals are distributed immediately.
World Concern and partner agency staff practice scanning bar codes with their mobile phones during a training last week.
“This technology will enable our staff to report on their life-saving distribution in real-time, increasing our ability to respond to immediate needs as they arise,” said Chris Sheach, deputy director of disaster response for World Concern.
While the “famine” has officially ended in the Horn, the long-term effects of such a severe drought and crisis will be experienced for many years to come. As NGOs shift our response from disaster to development—teaching pastoralists who lost their herds to farm and other forms of livelihood diversification—there are still many hungry people to feed. This new technology will enable us to do this even more quickly and efficiently. It can also be used in other types of disasters, particularly in cash-for-work programs.
Jean Myrick gives life-changing gifts (including goats like this one!) through World Concern’s Global Gift Guide every year.
Jean Myrick doesn’t bother with crowded shopping malls, or hunting for the “perfect” gift for her family members. She uses World Concern’s Global Gift Guide for all her Christmas giving.
“Since my family has grown so numerous, it is impossible for me to know what each one wants for Christmas. Most of them are trying to downsize, and I dislike the idea of wasting money on unwanted gifts,” says the grandmother of 19. “Besides, at age 88, it is difficult for me to go shopping, and there is always the problem of making equal gifts.”
“I use the Global Gift Guide to solve this problem. I choose a number of gifts that sound good to me. I am pleased with how practical and ingenious the possibilities are. Then I ask World Concern for enough gift cards to go around,” explains Jean. “When we gather for Christmas, I pass out the cards, and people share with the others what has been given in their name.”
Everyone is grateful not to be taking home the wrong-sized sweater or an unwanted knickknack.
“One year for Christmas, Mum gave me the gift of a latrine for a poor village. I was delighted with such a pragmatic gift, knowing the huge importance of safe drinking water and the connection between this and proper sanitation,” said Jean’s daughter, Anne Saenz. “It was great to see World Concern using this to help people in developing nations. Truly a thoughtful gift!”
For Jean, the Global Gift Guide is a practical resource that helps her “shop” for her whole family. But more importantly, she says, “I and my family have the satisfaction of helping meet the real needs of desperately poor people.”
If you’d like to make a difference through meaningful gifts that help change lives, join Jean and thousands of others who are changing the way they give—to their families, and to those struggling in extreme poverty.
Thanks to a microloan from World Concern, 34-year-old Damas Louis was able to buy a refrigerator and offer more products to customers of his small shop in Les Cayes, Haiti.
A microloan made a macro difference in Damas Louis’s life. The 34-year-old lives in Les Cayes, a town on Haiti’s southern coast. Life is tough here, and most people struggle to survive in a city plagued by poverty, unemployment and lack of infrastructure. Before receiving a loan, Damas scraped together a living by selling snacks and drinks in a tiny shop on an unpaved street.
“I wasn’t able to afford the things my customers wanted to buy, so they would go elsewhere,” he said.
With credit and support from a World Concern microloan, Damas was able to buy a refrigerator and additional inventory to sell, including cosmetic products. His business has nearly quadrupled, from about $24 in sales per day to $93 a day.
Things are definitely improving for Damas, who recently got married and is expecting his first child. He has ambitions to increase his income, eventually renting a larger space closer to a market and expanding his business even further.
Kelly Ranck is moving to east Africa to serve with World Concern as a communication liaison. Here’s a report about the impact of latrines and hygiene from her recent trip there.
We roll VIP.
You heard me. World Concern rolls VIP style. I’m talkin’ Ventilated Improved Pit latrines. And this is changing lives.
Clean water and basic hygiene are concepts that we take for granted. In the villages of Kenya and South Sudan, such information is foreign. Though they often live happy (still difficult) lives, many people here have never been exposed to the idea that their lives could be prolonged, and less difficult, if they were to practice good hygiene.
Here is where the VIPs come in. As a part of our One Village Transformed campaign, World Concern educates communities about preventing diarrhea, cholera, and other water-borne/hygiene-related diseases.
New VIP latrines in Kenya. Photo by Kelly Ranck.
World Concern trained the community of Benane, Kenya to build this beautiful VIP. They are now educated as to the basics of:
A. Using the VIP latrines and their importance in preventing diseases
B. How to practice good hygiene to protect and improve their health
Another reason I love VIPs (besides the fact that they spared me from a handful of moments of doing my business in public) is that they enable more children to attend school. Here’s how they relate: healthy children can effectively travel to and attentively engage in school. Clean water and sanitation are significant factors in increasing opportunities for education.
Students in Banane, Kenya, wash with water from a dirty stream behind the school. With World Concern’s help, they now have access to VIP latrines and clean water.
Because World Concern has empowered locals to build a Treadle pump, more students are attending class. Instead of spending the large portion of their day walking to water sources in order to gather unsanitary water, children now have access to clean, safe water and more time to attend class. And with latrines at the school, the underground water sources will remain unpolluted and safe to drink.
I look forward to checking back in with the people of Benane and getting some VIP access when I move to Africa!
This is a guest blog post by singer Jenny Simmons, who recently traveled to South Sudan with World Concern to see the great need in this country and witness the transformation taking place with the help of her supporters.
It is a simple memory—but one that haunts my mind.
The sound of rain coming for me.
Singer Jenny Simmons listens to one woman’s story in South Sudan as she traveled with World Concern earlier this month.
Last week in Lietnhom, South Sudan, I slept under a tin roof (one of the only tin roofs in the village; everything else is thatched) during one of the biggest thunderstorms I have ever heard in my life. The rain sounded like an army. Constant, steady, violent, encroaching. Angry. All night long it pounded away at the roof like artillery fire.
It is odd to sit in my living room today and watch the soundless rain roll off my shingled roof.
Like most of South Sudan, there is no electricity in the village of Lietnhom. So when it is dark, it is very dark. And when bolts of lightning strike, they pierce the sky with an unbelievably cruel, taunting brightness.
It must be scary as a small child to live in a hut with a thatched roof and no electricity during a thunderstorm.
It is utter darkness. No sound of cars in the distance. No highways. No stadium lights or street lights or sirens. Can you even imagine that kind of darkness? That kind of silence?
I would be lying if I said I wasn’t scared.
I was.
In fact, the truth is,I was scared during much of my trip to South Sudan.
The people were kind beyond measure. They offered us the very best of every single thing they had. Their food. Their beds. Their friendship. Still, I found myself lying in bed each night praying several different prayers of desperation.
“Lord, please send a UN helicopter to come get me.”
“God, if you’re gonna end the world somehow, someway—tonight would be a perfect night for you to go ahead and do that.”
“God I will do anything—I will serve you anywhere—if you will please, please just deliver me from this place.”
It is with great shame that I confess: My solution, as I interacted with people living in extreme poverty, was to beg God to put an end to the world. Or at the very least, send in a special UN convoy to rescue me from latrines, mosquito nets, cold showers, no electricity and the really scary thunderstorm in the black of night that rattled the tin roof above my head like an army, coming to pillage.
Just because I spent a few days in the bush of South Sudan doesn’t make me a saint or a hero or even a humanitarian. I’m not. I straight up spent most of my time praying for the apocalypse just so I would not have to pee in another bush on the side of a dirt road. Is that really end-of-the-world worthy? I think not.
If you make any conclusion about me based on my trip to South Sudan, conclude this: I am scared and selfish.
Jenny embraces and prays for a child in South Sudan.
Scared to eat food that comes out of a tin shack with mud floors and barefoot women. Scared to eat the chicken on my plate (because I swear he was just roaming around my bedroom window a few minutes ago). Scared to use the latrines, convinced that the horrific smell has created some sort of critter that will come out and eat me. Scared to sleep in pitch black darkness. Scared to hold a baby that may not live to be a little girl. Scared to hug a momma who has to bury that little girl. Scared to look at both of them in the eyes and imagine it being me and my little girl. Scared to love them and see them as people … because what if I go home and forget about their stories? Forget their cries for help?
“No milk. No milk,” the momma shows me her breasts, drooping and empty, “You take her.” And she tries to hand me her four-month-old baby.
Scared to look her in the eyes—scared that seeing her as human means I must act.
Scared that the problem is too big to be solved.
Scared that the only solution is death.
At the end of the day, I was just scared.
And selfish.
Though the country was beautiful and the people I met were amazing… the truth is, I couldn’t get home fast enough. When I got to Washington, D.C. my dad picked me up from the airport. I asked if we could go straight to a restaurant for breakfast. I scarfed down croissants and muffins. A latte. In a pastry shop that serves the up and up of Washington, D.C. elites. From there I went straight to the store and bought a new outfit. A razor. Body scrub. Face wash. I showered for nearly an hour. An entire hour of wasted water and gas. And then, we went out to eat again for Mexican food. I ordered $10 table-side guacamole. By the time I caught my flight back to Nashville I had spent more money in half a day than the families I had just been with, spend in a year.
And the spending and eating and gluttony on all levels was cathartic. A sort of cleansing of the poverty via a frenzy of money spending. It was like something in me needed to spend money. Needed to consume. Needed to re-ground myself in wealth and comfort as quickly as possible.
And that speaks to my own selfishness. My own poverty.
An unhealthy dependence on the things of this world to make me feel comfortable and happy.
So now you know the truth. I am just a girl. Mostly scared. Mostly selfish. Entirely out of her element in the small village of Lietnhom, South Sudan. Praying, begging for some end-of-the-world moment, simply so I could be delivered from my own discomfort.
Joined by a village choir in South Sudan, singer Jenny Simmons sings “Amazing Grace” during a small concert in the village of Lietnhom.
Poverty does that to us. It makes us uncomfortable. And if we can just get to the center lane, so we don’t have to pull up right next to the homeless person on the corner and look them in the eyes, we have saved ourselves the discomfort of having to know and having to act.
The truth is, my trip to South Sudan with World Concern was one of the hardest trips of my entire life. And I feel like a baby saying that because my teammates joyously snapped pictures, conducted interviews, pooped in latrines without complaint and ate the poor little pet chickens without hesitation. But for me, it was hard. It was hard on my body and soul. It was an affront to every single way of life I have ever known.
South Sudan was hard for me.
We are all a little scared to stare poverty in the face. And we should be.
Poverty displays the very essence of our brokenness as people. Those living in it and the rest of us … avoiding it. We both operate out of poverty.
Jesus came to alleviate poverty. He didn’t avoid it. In fact, in the New Testament, many times Jesus went out of his way—literally, through different villages and cities in order to stare the broken, hurting, poor, widowed, ostracized people in the eyes. He looked poverty in the face, in order to give hope. Other times, he went out of his way to teach those with wealth what it truly looked like to follow him. To give away possessions, and more importantly, to be willing to follow His lead even when it meant personal comfort would be diminished. He knew that people were either impoverished in their spirit or in their possessions. A lack of faith or a lack of bread were the same in His eyes—and he sought to shine new life into both kinds of people.
We go where God sends us. To the least of these. And the truth is: we’re mostly too scared and too selfish to do this on our own. But God walks us through our greatest fears.
So at the end of the day, I do not stand here a proud girl, telling you of all the amazing things I did to serve the poor.
I stand here as a girl who prayed for a UN helicopter to come rescue me. And instead, found a Savior who gave me strength, comfort and overflowing power and love to stare poverty in the face and at the end of the day—to sleep through the storm.
Skillet is one of Seattle’s beloved food trucks. They’ll be at the Mobile Food Fight for Hunger on Aug. 19.
I don’t know what it is but I’ve been drawn to food trucks for the last few years like a moth to a flame, as they say. Maybe it’s the excitement of discovering something new, or just the fact that I love good food. Regardless, all I know is there is a special place in my heart for food trucks. Even when traveling, I always research where to find new street food.
It seems like this growing passion is taking place in the hearts of other Seattleites too. Some might even say Seattle is having a food truck revolution. I say, it’s about time! So many awesome trucks are popping up around the greater Seattle area showcasing their delicious curbside offerings.
So I’m sitting at my computer at World Concern one day making myself hungry thinking about how much I love food trucks. I started thinking about ways these roving restaurants on wheels could do more than just fill bellies in Seattle. Then followed a genius idea: what if we invited some of the best food trucks in Seattle to World Concern and raise money to fight global hunger?! Beautiful! Two things that are very dear to my heart have united: helping the poor and food trucks!
Off the Rez will bring the unique flavor of Native American food to the Mobile Food Fight for Hunger on Aug. 19.
The Mobile Food Fight for Hunger was born, and now you have the opportunity to taste some of the best food trucks in Seattle right here at World Concern on Aug. 19. Plus, there will be zero guilt about all this eating because you’ll be helping feed hungry people in places like South Sudan, Chad and Somalia. Ten percent of the proceeds from the Mobile Food Fight for Hunger will help fight hunger through World Concern’s sustainable agricultural programs.
So get on this bandwagon of awesomeness and join us as we make a difference in the world through this delicious event!
The rural roads in Haiti are steep, bumpy and long. World Concern reaches communities on some of the roughest roads in the country.
The bumpy roads here in rural Haiti toss you around like a bull rider. Hairpin turns wind you through steep mountains, striking even the toughest travelers with motion sickness. And the roads seem to go on forever. Just when you think the road couldn’t go any further, it keeps going.
A sense of dread came over our team visiting Haiti this week when one of our Haitian staff informed us, after 7 hours on these roads, that we were about to go on “the worst road in Haiti.” We thought it couldn’t possibly be any worse than we had experienced. But it was. Dust and dirt swirled around us as our Land Cruiser lurched up rocky mountains with cliffs on either side.
It is at the end of many of these roads, far beyond where most are willing to go, that World Concern works.
When our vehicles pull into villages, children wave and grin excitedly. The leader of the community often greets our Haitian staff warmly with a hug of recognition, signaling relationships that have been formed over time.
People who live in these remote communities are grateful because someone has come so far for them. Mothers whisk their children home to put on their best clothes. Little girls in dirty, torn shorts and T-shirts return wearing frilly dresses, looking more like they’re going to a wedding than meeting visitors.
Parents talk openly about their struggles: not having opportunities to earn income, lack of clean water, and sick children. Some fear earthquakes and flooding will threaten their lives again soon.
They are strengthened by the help they receive—not a handout, as it is starkly obvious to those of us visiting that this would not change anything. This kind of widespread, extreme poverty, requires a long-term, well-planned response—the kind of help that brings the chance for something different. A better future.
This irrigation canal, built by community members with the support of World Concern, helps prevent flooding in a rural village in Haiti. The water is channeled to irrigate crops.
“If we have water, we can do anything,” said one farmer whose community has a new canal that channels rainwater away from homes and into the fields where it waters crops.
“Education is the key,” said a second grade teacher who has served his village since 1995.
These people tell us they want to learn new ways of doing things. They don’t want handouts. They want changes that will last. They want to do the work themselves, with our support and assistance, but they want ownership over the projects.
This is where you come in. You don’t have to go to the end of the road to help. We invite you to witness the transformation in Haiti by supporting the work of World Concern. We’re encouraged on days like this, to know that even at the end of a tough road, real and lasting change is possible.
School children in clean, pressed uniforms walk home from school in Port-au-Prince, Haiti.
It is beautiful here in Port-au-Prince, Haiti. That’s not something I imagine many Americans say on their first visit to this city—the poorest in the western hemisphere and home to about 3 million people. I expected it to be ugly, foul-smelling, really hot (which it is), and scary.
Blue skies blanket this city, and blooming fuchsia-colored bougainvillea drape over concrete walls that protect homes and buildings from the chaos on the other side. The smell of spicy grilled street food fills the air. Narrow, unpaved roads wind through hilly neighborhoods. The streets are clogged with honking vehicles and pedestrians who seem oblivious to cars and trucks swerving around them at terrifying speeds. Sidewalks are lined with vendors selling everything from shoes to dish soap.
But these are not the things that make it beautiful here.
This is the kind of beauty Isaiah describes in 61:3—the kind that comes out of ashes. Much of Port-au-Prince was reduced to dust in 2010 after a powerful earthquake crumbled its fragile cinder block structures. The city became a massive concrete grave for 230,000 people.
There are still piles of rubble every few blocks. Things have been cleaned up, but at first glance, it looks as though not much has been rebuilt.
To me, the chaos here is beautiful. The people here are beautiful—children in pressed uniforms and women carrying huge baskets filled with heavy loads on their heads. Mothers washing children’s clothing in metal tubs of soapy water. Families are starting over, making homes out of simple shelters.
Elias (right) and Louis live with 10 other family members in the home World Concern provided for them. They say the help was a "gift from God."
The concrete floor is swept clean and the bed is neatly made in the home of Elias and Louis, a precious couple in their late fifties who welcomed us in, offered us a seat on the bed, then put on their best clothes to have their photos taken. A thin curtain separates the two shelters that were built together by World Concern so that the family of 12 could all live together. Their home is one of more than 3,000 World Concern has built or repaired after the earthquake.
They are retired teachers who lost their home in the earthquake. Louis rested her hand on her husband’s to try and still his trembling caused by Parkinson’s disease. Elias got tears in his eyes as he talked about their life, their losses, and the blessing their home has been.
“It is a gift from God,” he said. “After the earthquake, first God saved us, then World Concern helped us.”
Our eyes met and our hearts connected as we shook hands and thanked them for sharing their story and inviting us into their home.
“God bless you,” said Louis, in perfect English.
Beauty for ashes.
Strength for fear. Joy for mourning. Praise instead of despair.
Elias and Louis—and thousands of others who are starting over from nothing—are living examples of the “display of His splendor.”
We join with them in thanking God for the transformation that is happening in Haiti.
“Not to us, Lord, not to us but to your name be the glory, because of your love and faithfulness.” Psalm 115:1
Maria Abdi and her children are among those recently arriving in the border town of Dhobley, Somalia.
Maria Abdi arrived in Dhobley, Somalia, with her five children and nothing but the clothes on their backs. She fled her hometown of Afmadow because there was no work there and the children were hungry. A relative paid her way to travel to Dhobley after Maria pleaded with them, having heard there was assistance here. But there was a charge for luggage and she couldn’t afford it, so she came empty-handed.
“I need everything a human being needs—all the basic necessities,” she said.
Maria’s family is among a new influx of arrivals in Dhobley, a transit point near the border for those traveling from Somalia to the Dadaab refugee camps in Kenya.
World Concern has been responding to the crisis in Dhobley since August, but staff members are seeing a sudden sharp increase in new arrivals. Ongoing drought and conflict in other parts of Southern Somalia are to blame for the influx. However, some people are returning from the refugee camps in Dadaab, citing insecurity and lack of food and other support in the camps as the reason for leaving.
“We visited the areas where families are settling in Dhobley and conditions are bad,” said World Concern Africa Director Buck Deines. “Most live in very temporary shelters, inadequate to protect them from the harsh weather. In some cases the shelters are nothing more than sticks and mosquito nets. We saw the interiors of several shelters, and in most cases, the families have no supplies of any kind.”
Deines estimates there are approximately 12,000 people that have settled in makeshift camps and are in immediate need of help. World Concern is planning to distribute vouchers that will supply families with a two-week supply of food, as well as emergency supplies like tarps, blankets, cooking pots, water jugs and more. However, additional funding is needed to respond immediately.
World Concern has been supporting people affected by the famine and drought in the Horn of Africa for nine months, and the recent increase in displaced families presents an urgent need.
Khayro Yussuf sits inside her shelter made from faded garments and held together by rope. Two metal cups are the only possessions inside her tent, except for an orange flask, which a relative uses to bring her tea.
Families arriving in Dhobley are living in temporary shelters like this one, made of sticks and a mosquito net.
She fled her village after three of her brothers and her uncle were killed in front of her. Khayro and her children came to Dhobley, fearing for their lives.
She received some food rations, but when she put it on a donkey cart, the owner of the cart took off with her only food. “When he realized I was not a resident and that I didn’t know where to go, he ran away with it,” she said.
Shortly after arriving, Khayro sent her son to Dadaab. “I was afraid he would be absorbed by militia … I never wanted my son to carry a gun or to join such kinds of groups,” she said.
Her daughter is staying with her in Dhobley. “If she is to die, she will die here with me,” said Khayro.
To learn more about the current situation in the Horn of Africa or to donate, please visit www.worldconcern.org/crisis.
Khayro Yussuf fled her village after family members were killed in front of her. She arrived in Dhobley with few belongings and no food.
