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21 Mar 2009


Ako ne možete da nahranite hiljadu đece, nahranite barem jedno -
Majka Tereza


Prijatelj i saradnik našeg web site, Baćko Babić, koji živi u USA, bio je u posjeti Nikaragvi, Marta 2009. godine, đe je u okviru humanitarne misije, pomagao ugroženoj đeci. Ovo je bio samo jedan od projekata koji je ovaj mladi Crnogorac uradio za sreću i osmjeh đeteta. Vrlo zapažena bila je njegova posjeta Kambodži 2008. godine, đe se susrio sa više hiljada gladne i napuštene đece. U svom skorašnjem obraćanju studentima i profesorima Koledža Brevard, u Sjedinjenim Američkim Država, g. Baćko Babić je, između ostalog rekao:

" What will happen to all that love that is just constantly accumulating in their warm, little hearts??? What will happen to all that love? Will it simply turn into the hater? Will their goodness and purity just turn into evilness and meanness? What is happening to people today, and what is yet to happen in the future…that’s what concerns me the most.

Yes, some people do care. But how many people really, “really care about us!?” How many people are actually willing to help us out?

And again, I wonder: Will that ever happen??? Will they have a chance to “rise up and fly, over the rainbow, so high!!!???” Will they ever touch the sky? Will they ever be given that chance? Will there ever be enough people to really care about them? 

Zbog svojih misija, web portal www.montenegro-canada.com je odlučio da promoviše g. Baćka Babića - CRNOGORCA SA VELIKIM HUMANIM SRCEM


Think of the worst and worn-out pairs shoes you’ve ever owned…the day when you did not have a chance to nurture your body with three, but only one meal-if that…when you did not have the opportunity for a clean shower… when you had only one, maybe two shirts that you inherited from your older sibling…when you never, not even for a minute, thought of tomorrow, but of the ways to go through that very day…when the life almost, just almost lost the purpose…when hope was slowly dying…and everything was turning into devastation…

The second poorest country in Western hemisphere, the land of lakes and volcanoes with magic clouds, where every stone has a story to tell…hugged with Pacific Ocean and Caribbean Sea with beautiful beaches and tropical weather…aren’t the things that make Nicaragua so unique in many ways. It is always the people that make a piece of land so exceptional and mysterious. Nicaragua has no immunity to it. Disturbing history, miserable present and unsecure future of Nicaraguans left a few scars on my hearth…

Waking up to the sounds of local roosters as the sun was still working its way out, after barely being able to fall asleep the night before due to the noise of neighboring fiestas and blaring of street dogs bothered only for the first couple of evenings. In the mornings, with my eyes half a way closed, I would brush my teeth with bottle water so I could prevent myself from getting sick; I would put some clothes on and go to the lobby of our hotel for a small cup of black, strong, and delicious Nicaraguan coffee. I quit adding any sugar to it just so I don’t ruin the flavor.

I am done with my coffee and it is only 6:30am. After a few bites of mandarin from hotel’s garden I am ready for breakfast. Never really understood what makes people start the day so early if they don’t have to…but then realized there really IS something special in the mornings…still haven’t figured out what though.

7:00 am and I am on my way to the local church located just a few minutes away from the hotel. As always, I jump up at the first tricycle (Nicaraguan taxi) to save myself from walking for just 20 cordobas, or 50 cents-cannot help my laziness.

My favorite part of the day…as I am getting closer to the church I am feeling the excitement of seeing my children again. I don’t even have time to get off the tricycle and I am already being hugged and kissed by little Nicaraguans, who decided to, again, skip the school and help out as much as they can with the construction work that needed to be done.

The work was hard… Mixing the concrete, building the walls, and putting up the roof for 8 hours 5 days in a row on 90 degree weather with no shades around me would not be as exciting if it wasn’t for our little helpers. I thought I would know the ‘construction terminology’ in Spanish, but I soon realized that I don’t know the names of certain tools in English either, better yet, not even in Montenegrin, my native language. No worries though-sign language was successful.

Afternoons were reserved for Bible School sessions with the youngsters. The first night I had a chance to work with just a few dozen of them, hoping to see more and more join each time. That’s how it was…last night there were 125 children attending, some of which traveled long distances wanting to join. That actually turned out to be the most difficult night of the trip…emotionally. Saying “Adiós” wasn’t easy. Adiós sounds so permanent; however, unfortunately enough, that’s why it was a correct phrase to use. I am most likely to never see them again.

As always, even though it probably wasn’t the right thing to do, I did end up having a favorite child. His name is José Alexandro Flores Ruiz. He is a 10-year-old boy who lives across the church in a shelter. Through him, the whole family, parents with other four children became very dear and close to me. The honesty of his smile and the sadness of his eyes made everything else seem so insignificant. Through him, I was able to better understand the unfortunate destiny of Nicaraguan people. Even though the war was over a few decades ago, the devastation of their spirits is still there. That’s what, at least, his eyes were able to tell me. His smile, though, showed just the opposite. Younger generations are ready to move on with their lives and are ready for a better future…

…and I…I left heartbroken, in tears, feeling selfish for not being able to do more…




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