Morgan Wienberg, a slight 22-year-old from Canada, was only 18 when
she joined the wave of volunteers who flew to Haiti to help out after
the catastrophic earthquake in 2010.
Unlike most volunteers she has returned,
putting off a medical career to fulfill what she now calls a life
mission to rescue abused Haitian children exploited by unscrupulous
orphanages.
“I am flabbergasted by her story. It’s simply
outstanding what she is doing, and nothing fazes her,” said Alison
Thompson, an Australian nurse and veteran relief worker who ran a camp
for earthquake victims in Haiti and now runs rape clinics there.
Wienberg was living in Whitehorse, the
capital of Yukon, Canada’s westernmost territory, when her plans to
study medicine at McGill University took a detour.
She had considered spending the summer
working with animals or children in Africa, but quickly signed up as a
volunteer to teach English to earthquake victims and help in a
prosthetics lab.
“I had never really thought about Haiti. The
earthquake drew me to thinking it was the place I could make a
difference,” she said during an interview in Miami where she was
overseeing medical care for one of her charges.
STARVATION AND BEATINGS
In Haiti she also volunteered at an
orphanage. Appalled by the conditions, she quickly discovered that
almost all the children were not orphans but were being used to milk
donations from unwitting charities, including American churches.
“There were 75 children, all starving, lying
in vomit and diarrhea,” she said. Beatings were common for petty
infractions; a deaf boy was abused constantly.
When groups of Americans visited with suitcases of toys and clothes, the owner made sure the children were washed and clothed. They never received the donations, which were sold.
“The real turning point was when I realized
the children all had families,” said Wienberg. “They were there because
their families were so poor they couldn’t afford to look after them.”
Wienberg discovered that the orphanage owner
recruited children on trips to impoverished rural areas where parents
often were willing to give up their children for the hope they might get
a better life in the city, and perhaps an education.
“Many orphanages in Haiti are primarily a business,” said Wienberg. “They use the children to make money from foreigners.”
She gathered evidence and went to the police and Haiti’s social services institute to report the abuse.
Legitimate children’s homes exist in Haiti,
such as NPH International, which operates a children’s hospital in
Port-au-Prince and a chain of orphanages across Latin America. But the
government of Haiti has begun to crack down on the corrupt places,
working with UNICEF to create an official registry of the 725 orphanages
and child-care centers.
Of these, 40 have already been shut,
including the orphanage where Wienberg worked, though officials say the
social services institute, which has a staff of 200, lacks the resources
to properly monitor abuses. So far there are no reliable figures for
the total orphan population.
Terre des Hommes International Federation, a
European umbrella group dedicated to children’s rights, is working with
UNICEF and the Haitian institute to replace orphanages with a nationwide
host-family program. It seeks to prevent separation by helping the most
vulnerable parents find a sustainable source of income, such as
training women to sew and helping fishermen with nets and boats.
The initiative also includes a “family
tracing and reunification” plan to help remove children from orphanages
and place them back with their parents.
After Wienberg quit the orphanage, she
decided she could not walk away from the children. Back in Canada she
worked three jobs to save enough to return to Haiti.
“Every day I was working to get them medical
treatment and trying to close (the orphanage) down,” she said. Often she
had trouble sleeping, remembering she had shared the floor with kids
who had no beds.
FROM SHYNESS TO SAFE HOUSES
With that money and what she had put aside
for university Wienberg set up her own charity in late 2011: Little
Footprints, Big Steps offers safe places for children to receive care,
while their parents are traced.
Morgan’s mother, Karen Wienberg, 57, serves
as chairman of the board. A Canadian civil servant in Whitehorse, she
organizes additional fundraising.
So far Morgan has rescued 86 children and is
helping their families provide for them at home, while also paying to
educate 156. She herself currently looks after five boys and five girls
at one of two safe houses in the southern city of Les Cayes.
One boy, Yssac Jeudy, was 12 and illiterate
when she rescued him from the streets. Known to his friends as “Big
Cheek” because of a tumor growing beneath the right side of his face, he
is now in second grade and at the top of his class. Wienberg became his
legal guardian this year in order to bring him to Miami for surgery
(the tumor was benign).
“Our focus now is on helping the children
stay with their parents and build stable lives,” she said. That involves
teaming up with other charities to build houses and help with
vocational training.
The charity has an operating budget of
$175,000 and shuns luxuries, such as a car, preferring the money go for
food, education and medical care. Only eight local staff draw a salary.
Wienberg, who taught herself to speak fluent
Haitian Creole, travels everywhere on public transport, despite the five
hours by bus that separate Les Cayes from the capital, where she must
frequently go.
“Morgan doesn’t have any interest in material
things. She is probably the most incredible person I have ever met,”
said Sarah Wilson, a Canadian paramedic in Ontario who cofounded Little
Footprints with Wienberg after they met in Haiti.
Once painfully shy, Wienberg has since
delivered a TEDx address (a freely licensed version of the more global
TED talks) at McGill in Montreal, and last year she was invited to speak
at the United Nations Youth Assembly in New York.
Some of her admirers worry about the risks
she runs in Haiti. “All my friends who are nurses have been assaulted or
raped at one point,” said Thompson. “But her kids really love and
protect her. She has won the respect of the community, and that counts
for a lot down there.”
Karen Wienberg doesn’t worry about her.
“A mother’s job is to open every door for
your children so they can find their passion,” she said. “If I had a
child sitting on the couch I would worry more.”
Despite her present involvement, Morgan
hasn’t necessarily given up on medical school. “I spent all my savings,”
she says with a laugh, “so I’d probably need a scholarship.”
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