Ruth Marina

I am busy moving around the hospital when one of the women from UNIMA, Marta, calls out to me.

"Lauren," she says, and that is it, because that's the end of her English. Marta and I have been hanging together for five days, laughing as tortured Spanish spouts from my mouth.

Marta points to a smiling girl who pulls up to us in a wheelchair. This girl, 11 years old, shines with beauty and light. I see arms and legs covered with scarring from burns.


"Hola, bonita," I say, and smile big at her. Marta, unsure if I get it, takes off one of the girl's slippers. There is a a badly mangled foot.


"Hola," I say again, and give her tummy a tickle. She laughs and laughs. She tells me her name is Ruth Marina.












The translator from UNIMA, Michele, comes over to us.

"Her father set the house on fire," she whispers to me. "Do you want to get her mother's story?"

I move with Michele and Ruth Marina's mother to a quiet hallway.










Ruth Marina's father had been a FARC--the Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia -- People's Army (Fuerzas Armadas Revolucionarias de Colombia -- Ejercito del Pueblo). Established in the 60's as the military unit of the Colombian Communist Party, it is known as a guerilla unit. Later, they started to finance themselves through the cocaine trade.

One day, Ruth Marina's mother comes home from her job at a sewing factory and finds her husband in bed with another woman. She tells him they cannot live together anymore. Her husband does not take this lightly. He proceeds to tie her wrists and knees together so tightly he breaks her bones. He then pours gasoline around the room, where their 3 babies also happen to be. He goes outside and pours gasoline around the house before lighting a match and running off.

Ten minutes later, neighbors come to help. One-and-a-half-year-old Ruth Marina and her twin sister--who is alive but I do not meet today--are immediately rushed to the hospital with the mother. Their one-month-old baby brother or sister--I do not get the gender--does not survive.

At this point in the story, tears form in the small woman's eyes, and she shakes her head. She does not go on. A profound heaviness surrounds us as we stand in the stark hallway.

A burn surgeon was scheduled to come on this trip with us, but at the last minute he was not able to come. After a moment of collecting myself, I go find the Healing the Children administrator for this trip, Steve Nargiso.


Steve meets Ruth Marina and takes some photos and information. Healing the Children is trying to set up a burn mission this upcoming October. Because finances are still uncertain, he doesn't tell the mother so as not to get her hopes up.





I give Ruth Marina all the toys I have left: sunglasses, crayons, stickers. Together, we play and giggle.

Horror stories like this are not particular to Colombia. According to the National Child Abuse and Neglect Data System, there was an estimated 3.3 million referrals of child abuse in the US in 2005---and that's just what was reported.

Gandhi said: "The greatness of a nation and its moral progress can be judged by the way its animals are treated.”

I agree, but even moreso, I feel the moral progress of humanity can be judged by the way we treat our children.





Ruth Marina, you are not alone. There are people who care. Today, we say a prayer for you.