We know their faces. We know their names.
I've watched the video “Working for the Gangs” over and over again.
While the world talks about prison breaks in Haiti, my prayers this week have been with those incarcerated at CERMICOL, those whose names we know, those whose faces I hold dear.
This young man's story is the story of so many.
This teenager was 11 years old when he started working for a gang. He was homeless and hungry, he told CNN, and the gang offered him food.
Now, when other members of the gang kill people, they make him burn the bodies, says the teen, who is now 14.
He would like to get out – but he doesn’t know how. His mother lives outside of Port-au-Prince; he’s not sure how to reach her and couldn’t afford such a trip anyway.
“I wish she could come get me,” he told CNN. “I’d like her to take me out of this place.”
Haiti isn't 11.5 million people. Haiti is individual people with individual stories.
From the comfort of our US existence, it's impossible to comprehend living in conditions where one truly does not see a way out, one does not believe there are choices, one is only looking to survive.
Even so, come, Lord Jesus.
