Harvin is the Micah Project's resident actor. A serious fifteen year-old with a penchant for long, reflective talks about life, Harvin has been in acting classes for four years. Two weeks ago, he won "best actor" in an exposition at the cultural center where he studies acting. Those of you who have visited the Micah Project here in Honduras have surely been regaled by the death scene from Romeo and Juliet or a monologue from Othello (his current favorite is Hamlet!).
It's not hard to understand why Harvin prefers tragedy over comedy in his budding dramatic career. Before he was ten, he had lived more tragedy than the Prince of Denmark and the young Montague combined. I learned of his tragic past more profoundly last week when I took him to northern Honduras to find his parents in order to get their permission to bring him with me to the United States in October for a two-week trip.
During the five hour bus trip, Harvin told me how he had come to Tegucigalpa in the first place. When he was seven, his father decided to start a new family (his third), leaving his mother to fend for herself. A poor, uneducated woman, she moved her five children from hotel-to-hotel in the red light district of San Pedro Sula, Honduras' second-largest city. In these run-down hotels, home to San Pedro's sex and drug industry, Harvin's mom, Yolanda, began to use and peddle drugs herself.
After a couple of years in this environment, Harvin and his younger brother, Darwin, ran away one night and hitchhiked to Tegucigalpa. Quickly absorbed into street life, they begged and robbed to survive, finding cheap solace in yellow glue, which dulls all pain, whether physical or emotional. After living on the streets for many months, Harvin found his way into a center for street children and gave up street life once and for all.
Darwin, however, bounced from center-to-center, never staying anywhere for more than a month before heading back out to the streets and to the irresistible fumes of the deadly yellow glue. As our bus pulled into San Pedro Sula last week, Harvin was saying how happy he was that Darwin had been in a drug rehabilitation center for more than a month, and seemed to have given up the yellow glue.
San Pedro Sula is a steamy, sultry city, close enough to the Caribbean coast to receive the full effects of its tropical humidity, but too far away to enjoy it's sea breezes. As we walked through the litter-strewn streets of the red-light district to Harvin's mom's most recent hotel, the stench of the sun-baked trash was almost too much to bear. When we finally found the correct hotel, the manager told us that Yolanda was visiting Harvin's younger sister in her orphanage.
On our way to the orphanage, Harvin told me that his mom was jailed for six months last year for selling drugs and, because of the jail time, the government took his two younger sisters away from her. She is allowed to visit them at the orphanage, run by strict nuns, every other Sunday for an hour or two. At the gates of the orphanage, a nun escorted Yolanda and her young daughters to see us. Harvin hugged his mom, a hug which she returned somewhat self-consciously. His sister shook his hand timidly; she was so young when he left home that she barely remembered him.
Harvin talked to his mom about his upcoming trip to the U.S. and councelled his sister to study hard and to pray every day. He told them that thirteen year-old Darwin had given up drugs for several weeks now and was doing well. As we left, his mom pulled a cheap, imitation silver ring off her finger and gave it to Harvin. He began to cry a little as we walked down the street to take a bus to his dad's house. He said he wanted to do something to help his mom, but he didn't know what he could do.
If Harvin's visit with his mom was sad, the five minutes we spent with his dad were angering. His dad stood at the door of his small home while we explained about Harvin's trip. After his dad signed the permission to leave the country, we stood there uncomfortably, wondering what to say. The only information that Harvin's dad volunteered was that Harvin's older brother had disappeared several months ago and the rumor is that he died of AIDS, since several of his "women" had died or were dying of that epidemic. Finally, after another minute of silence, Harvin's dad told us that we had better go, since his neighborhood got deadly after dark. He stiffly shook his son's hand and closed the door.
As we headed back to Tegucigalpa the next day, I marveled at Harvin's strength. I realized that for our boys, their tragedy did not end when they were rescued from the street. For most of them, they can only stand as witnesses while poverty continues to buffet their families with blow-after-blow. It is easy to understand why most of them go through times of sadness and depression and anger. They are dealing with so many issues, not only about the past, but about present pain and suffering.
I consider it a miracle that God has done so much in our boys' lives despite their situations. The majority of them that they are not only surviving, but are growing so much in their faith that they are able to reach out to others who are hurting. They are learning how to minister in our frequent outings to churches, orphanages, and schools, but more importantly they are witnessing on a daily basis in own neighborhood and among their friends. Harvin and the other boys in the Micah Project are using the healing that God has brought them as the foundation of their blossoming ministry.
That is not to say that they have stopped hurting. When we got off the bus after a long day's trip back to Tegucigalpa from San Pedro Sula, we ran into Harvin's brother Darwin. He was with a group of other street kids, and he was so high on yellow glue that I don't even think he recognized Harvin. Harvin told Darwin that he had just told their mom that he was off the streets and off drugs. Darwin, with a heavy-lidded and sheepish shrug, just took another deep breath in his little bottle of glue.
When Harvin goes to the United States in October, many of you will see him perform a drama called Niños de la Calle, "Street Kids." This tragic drama is more autobiographical and perhaps much harder to perform for Harvin than any work by Shakespeare. If you see tears rolling down Harvin's face, be assured that it is no dramatic effect learned in theater classes; the tears are real tears for his past, for his brother Darwin who is slowly killing himself on the streets, for his mom Yolanda, for his sisters who are locked away in the orphanage, and for the lack of love shown by his distant father.
I hope many of you will get to meet Harvin, Marvin, and German when we are in the States. We will be in Houston from October 1 through October 6 and in St. Louis from the 6th to the 20th (with a possible weekend in Chicago.) We will be at the Missions Conference of the Central Presbyterian Church on the weekend of October 15-16. Harvin and Marvin are prepared to share about the miraculous first year of the Micah Project, as well as their goals for the future. You won't want to miss it!
We are so grateful for your ongoing support of the Micah Project. God is beginning to expand our vision for ministry here in Honduras and to open new doors. In November, which is the first month of "summer" vacation for Honduran schools, the Micah boys will begin a three month service project in an orphanage, church, or other project providing service to those in need. We are praying that this opportunity to serve on a long-term basis in a project will continue to grow fruits of compassion, service, sacrifice, and leadership in the boys hearts. We also pray that there witness will be powerful to all those to whom they reach out in these ministries.
We hope and pray that you will continue to walk with us as we work for the advancement of our Lord's kingdom here in Honduras. If you would like to help the Micah Project meet our $4,000 monthly budget, you may write a check to "The Micah Project". Please send it to the following address:
The Central Presbyterian Church
c/o Mr. Randy Mayfield,
Director, World Missions and Outreach
7700 Davis Dr.
Clayton, MO 63105
To contact Randy, please call (314) 854-0133.
We hope to see many of you in October!
May God richly bless you! Please know that we pray for you often at the Micah Project!
Your brother in our Lord,
Michael Miller
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