Asinduru seems shy at first. Her words begin slowly. She sits with her elbows resting on the wood school desk, her hands stacked one on top of the other. Her head is slightly tilted. Like a train heading downhill, she quickly picks up speed. Her words start coming fast. For a few moments, she seems a bit frantic, as though she may run out of time or forget nuggets and details of her story she needs to include. As she continues to speak, her body becomes more animated. Like most of the girls at school, her hair is cut short and close to her head for easy maintenance. It is when she leans in and smiles broadly, you get a glimpse of her beauty and steely determination.

Asinduru describes her father in a detached way, as if she is standing from a distance. She says he married “many women.” She thinks there are at least twenty children who are her siblings. Her father died when she was in primary school and her memories of him are vague. As a young girl, she remembers long days selling greens and vegetables in the market. She desperately wanted to attend school, but her mother had no education, and her mother was powerless to advocate for her. The men in her family, especially her uncles, were pushing her mother to hire her out for labor or “marry her off.” She says she wanted to learn English and try for a better life. Even at a young age, it was clear to her that the females in her family were not doing well. As children, the girls were only valued for their potential economic benefit.

“I never lost hope. I knew I wanted to make a future.”

Asinduru

She had an aunt who advocated for her. Someone who understood her hopes. Asinduru’s eyes well up and tears slide down her cheeks as she describes her “auntie who didn’t give up” on Asinduru’s dream of an education. She says not one man in her family would stand up for her or cared about her. Her aunt worked diligently to connect her with the WCF Mama Kevina school. Asinduru says she also continued to fight for herself and plead to leave her village and attend school in Tororo. Finally, she says she convinced the family members who controlled her to let her go. She says the WCF Mama Kevina school is the best part of her life story. When school is out for holiday each January, she stays on campus and enjoys tending to the garden, pitching in and helping with washing and cooking, and knitting. The WCF Mama Kevina school is the place she calls home.

“Life has been very hard, but I keep on having hope.”

Asinduru

She says she ultimately wants to do something with her life to serve others. “I thank all of you people for all the life-changing help you have given me,” she says.

Anthony taps his foot.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
He has energy to spare. He is always busy.
He says his mind is spinning.
“He’s a very smart one,” a teacher says in support of Anthony’s keen intellect.

Anthony’s words are measured. His English, impeccable.

Anthony’s mother died when he was in primary school and his father had a fatal accident a few years later. Anthony lived several years with an uncle, but his uncle had four children of his own to support.

“Life was not so easy. Getting the chance to come to the WCF school and learn has changed everything for me.”

Anthony

“Life was not so easy,” says Anthony. “Getting the chance to come to the WCF school and learn has changed everything for me. I am surprised by the high level of academics, the chemistry, math and physics. I am doing my best,” he says, his bow tie slightly askew. He has dressed for the occasion. He wears his only white shirt and a clip-on black bow tie that all the boys at the school wear with pride on special days.

He says he is grateful for the opportunity and appreciates the environment, the cleanliness of the campus. He is thankful for the “good discipline” at the school. He plans to become an engineer.

“It is a struggle sometimes, at the holidays and Christmas. I miss having a family. But I have made many friends and feel I am really cared for here.”

“I miss having a family. But I have made many friends and feel I am really cared for here.”

Anthony

Tap. Tap. Tap. He taps his foot a few more times. “Could this conversation impact my educational opportunities?” he asks. “No. This is just an informal interview to help donors understand the impacts of their giving,” responds a member of the WCF team.

“Fair enough,” he says. “Because I am going to become an engineer.”

“I felt like I was going to die before I came to school here. I was working, planting fruit, trying to pay my own school fees. I had been suffering since primary school, always hungry and in and out of school. I am one of seven children,” she says. She looks up and slightly to one side when she speaks as if she is visually reviewing the snapshots of her life. She reaches up and touches the bright blue beads around her neck that she has carefully strung together and describes how she loves to sing and how she enjoys the challenge of her biology and chemistry classes at the WCF Mama Kevina School.

“I had never seen a school like this. The campus is so beautiful. The education is everything I dreamed of. I receive good food. I offer my thanks. May God abundantly bless those who are helping to support me and pay my fees.”

“I can see possibilities. A new tomorrow.”

Buteme

“May God abundantly bless those who are helping to support me and pay my fees.”

Buteme

Buteme is grateful that she has a mother and father, but neither are educated and both work in the informal sector in the Manafwa district making small bits of money selling and trading fruits and vegetables. The income they generate is not enough to feed seven children or pay school fees for their children. Buteme says she is the lucky one in her family. The only female with options. The only child who does not wonder where the next bit of food will come from. She looks up to the sky. “I can see possibilities. A new tomorrow.”

Jaliah was living with her mother, her six siblings, and her grandmother who was gravely ill, when she remembers being chased from their one room shack. Her father had died and her mother was no longer able to pay rent. Jaliah was often hungry and spent her time digging through garbage looking for food. Like many of the students at the school who tell us their stories, she cries as she recalls her struggles.

“I did not have anything to eat and my mother could not take care of me.”

Jaliah

“I began to pray to God to help me. I did not have anything to eat and my mother could not take care of me.”

She says her mother heard about the WCF school and reached out to Sister Clare, the school administrator to see if Jaliah could come to the school to live and study.

“This school has saved my life.”

Jaliah

“Thank you, World Children’s Fund. Now, I eat well. I sleep well. I am safe. I am learning. Everything here is beautiful. Nothing bad happens here,” she says.

She loves reading and studying physics, biology and math. Although she doesn’t know exactly what she wants to pursue as a career, she appears be a budding entrepreneur. During a recent school holiday, she took a job washing clothes. She says she is saving the small stipend of money she earned, which she can keep for herself. She hopes to buy a goat someday. She says she will name him Kevin, in honor of the WCF Mama Kevina school. “This school has saved my life,” she says.

When we first sat down with Grandmother Sarah and her two youngest grandsons to hear about the impacts of being newly enrolled in the feeding program in Buchanan, Liberia, Ben was seven years old. He was wearing a tattered t-shirt that said “Rookie.” In many parts of the world, a shirt’s slogan is a medium for self-expression. In Buchanan, what counts is owning a shirt. If Ben was a rookie at anything, it was the realization that his name was on a list, and he was part of a program in his community where he would receive food each weekday.

Both boys live with their grandmother and have no memories of their parents. Sarah has cared for Ben since he was a baby. He is the child of Sarah’s oldest son. Sarah says her son died of starvation. Ben’s mother left Buchanan out of desperation to find work and never returned. Ben’s cousin Harrison has lived with Grandma Sarah since he was four years old. Harrison’s father was killed during Liberia’s civil war. Harrison’s mother also left Buchanan to search for work opportunities and has not returned. Many caregivers in Liberia are grandparents and older surviving relatives who work tirelessly to fill the gaps created by the absence of a missing generation.

When asked how many other cousins and children also count on his grandmother Sarah for food and survival, Ben pauses, looks up as if counting and finally answers, “There are plenty.” He helps his grandma collect and carry water from the community well and with other chores around their one room dwelling.

Five years later, Ben is attending school, eating well, and growing into a healthy and happy young man. He says he has a lucky friend who owns a bicycle and Ben enjoys taking his turn behind the wheel and pedaling around the dusty, rutted streets of Buchanan. He says he wants to be a “footballer,” although he doesn’t have his own ball. Most of all, he loves coming to the WCF supported feeding program each weekday, where he sees familiar faces ready to welcome him with a hot meal. His favorite meal is the potato greens, which are mixed into a soup. He also loves the dark red beans that are grown locally, and bitter ball (like Egg Plant) that are lovingly prepared by the nine cooks on staff.

Ben has never been on airplane, but he can see them occasionally in the sky over Buchanan. He says if he could fly away, he would go to visit America. He has heard it is a country with “a lot” of food. When he is older Ben says he will work hard to take care of his grandmother Sarah and show her the same love and care she has devoted to him.

Emma radiates sweetness and speaks softly.

She is starting primary school soon and has already learned the alphabet. Each weekday, she walks to the nursery school and feeding program in the Fairgrounds community in Buchanan, Liberia. She doesn’t know how to tell time yet and there isn’t a clock in her house, but when she opens her eyes in the morning and hears roosters crowing and people talking, she gets up and begins her day.

She lives in a one room dwelling with a single bed that she shares with her mother, brother, and great-grandmother. She says it’s an old place and her great grandma is working on fixing it.

She has a “doll baby” and she likes to play hopscotch in the red dirt outside. She uses sticks to draw lines in the dirt to make squares and practices hopping on one foot.

Emma nearly died from chronic malaria. She says she felt very sick for a long time, but her tummy is better now. Program administrators realized Emma was ill and not recovering and took her multiple times to a clinic in Buchanan for treatment. Malaria is common in Liberia. The disease is caused by a parasite that spreads to humans through the bites of infected mosquitos. Once infected with malaria, the high fevers, shaking, chills and sickness settle in. Emma is one of nearly 300 million people who are infected with malaria each year. Annually, an estimated 400,000 people worldwide die from this preventable and treatable disease. In Buchanan, most people don’t sleep under mosquito netting at night and cannot afford to seek medical care when they become sick. Thankfully, because Emma is enrolled in the feeding program in Buchanan, she received lifesaving treatment.

Emma’s favorite day of the year at the feeding program is when she receives her “Christmas Clothes.” She recently received a new pink dress made from soft cotton with two straps that tie at her shoulders. Even though there was no mirror, she held the dress and twirled in a circle as if she was dancing with her new best friend.

Thanks to continued donor support, Emma is eating a daily nutritious meal, attending primary school, receiving medical attention, and enjoying the pink sundress she loves so much.

Nanu’s dream is to finish high school. It’s an accomplishment no one in her family has ever achieved. She says her father was killed by rebels. Her mother sells cassava, a root vegetable that looks like a potato, on the streets as a vendor to try to earn enough money to feed her four children. The WCF supported program in Buchanan, Liberia has kept Nanu and her siblings from battling hunger each day. Nanu is devoted to her studies and is a scholarship student. “It continues to give me hope,” she says, as well as helping propel her toward her educational goals. She is passionate about music and loves to sing. She is also enjoying learning how to use a computer.

Her mother has never attended school and no one in her family has ever reached high school equivalency. The profits from her mother’s small garden help support Nanu and her siblings, but it is not sufficient to meet the needs of the family. Nanu says her brother dropped out of school at grade four because of financial pressure and constraints.

She worries about her country of Liberia. She says she is lucky being able to attend school, even though the educational system has its challenges. She says there are about 30 computers available among the 600 students in her school.

“I want to be a light to children like me, who thought there was no hope.”

— Nanu

“In Liberia, there are so many children without any way to attend to school. We can learn and improve the future if we all work together to create opportunity. We can make the country better.”

Her message to WCF supporters?

“Please, keep helping us.”

Nanu says after she completes her education, her dream is to return the favor and help the poor.

“I want to be a light to children like me, who thought there was no hope.”