Skinny Dogs and Bloated Bellies

On Monday morning, we loaded up into the trucks, and were brought to the WFP Country Office in Managua, where we received a briefing on country programs and security issues. Despite the fact that Nicaragua is the 2nd poorest country in the western hemisphere, it´s actually the safest in the region. The greatest risk is natural disasters, with hurricanes and earthquakes destablizing the country every year.

From there, we left Managua, and headed out to the field - to the Matagalpa region, where we visited Maternal-Child Health programs, implemented through a public health clinic funded in partnership through WFP and the Nicaraguan government.

We drove north on the Pan-American Highway and then turned right. Right off the highway, right off everyone´s consciousness and right off the grid. The roads turned to dirt, then they turned to mud, then they became paths, and then they headed straight up, as we bumped and crashed our way up steep slopes overlooking grand sweeping valleys of jungle, on what, on a good day, could be classified as extreme hiking paths. The UN trucks are virtual elephants, outfitted with special tires that can manage rocks, rivers, fallen trees and gullies.

After 2 hours of being tossed around, guts crushed and brains knocked off their axes, we arrived in a village to meet local WFP workers administering vaccines, delivering babies, and distributing food to fight extreme, acute malnutrition, amid dirt floors, stick walls, and corregated tin roofs.

Beneficiaries were lined up, waiting for treatment, mothers holding their tiny babies, girls holding jugs to be filled with fortified vegetable oil, men holding sacks to be filled with food rations for their families. It was there that we noticed that, despite their Nicaraguan parents, so many of these children were blonde, with fine, wispy hair, light skin and light eyes. Why? This is a classic sign of chronic, acute malnutrition, as though hunger has drained them of their color, as well as their health.

From there, we went to the home of one of the beneficiaries - Olivia, who lives in a 3 room hut with her mother, and 7 children. When we entered, we noticed a hammock to the right, swinging limply in the breeze. Olivia greeted us, opened up the hammock, and introduced us to her 15-month old daughter, who weighs just 14 pounds. She laid there, looking at us, not registering our presence, nor responding in any way. Chronically malnourished children seem not to cry. Hunger robs them of their development - stunting their growth (an 11 year old was the size of a 5 year old), and mental capacity, looking past you with a 100-mile stare.

When one thinks of the UN, they think, understandably, of sophisticated operations and (hopefully) an organization facilitating impact and change. Monday´s trip highlighted two things for me. First, that merely accessing these places - the least developed, remote areas of the least developed, remote countries - is a huge challenge, and somehow, with just 65 staff in-country, WFP feeds nearly 500,000 people every single day. And second, that the needs are simply so basic. Develop infrastructure to catch fresh rainwater for drinking, build efficient stoves so you won´t breathe in smoke from the fire burning openly inside your kitchen, fortify every drop of food with micronutrients so your little cup of porridge meets most of your nutritional and caloric needs for the day.

Brick by brick, inch by inch.