Moms Against Hunger

The History of Moms Against Hunger

The small humble beginnings of Moms Against Hunger began in Africa, when Dr. Gayla was a child with her family.  They lived 65 miles from the nearest road, deep in the jungle in an African village named Fassama, which is in Liberia West Africa.  Her family survived along with the native Liberians, by small amounts of food and the rare help of others. They had an (unplanned) orphanage of abandoned children that they also had to take care of.

This is a picture of Gayla and her 3 brothers and their monkey in the village.  Their family suffered great needs as they tried to help the villagers.

Some of the children.....

As a little girl, she saw children suffering from dysentery and various diseases because of the lack of clean water.  This stream was filled with bacteria and virus's as the villages upstream used the water for bathing, defecating, drinking, cooking and washing clothes. So as the water proceeded downstream it continued to fill with human waste.  No one realized that this was the reason for all the sickness among the African people.

The people from the village...

Witch doctors often came through offering their services to 'heal' the people, but their 'treatments' were mediaval, often deadly and terrified the people.  Often using rotten meats, sacrificed animals and emotional threats they ruled the people with terror.  The lack of information and education kept them locked in deep fears and death was often a daily visitor.

Watching the people suffer  daily from hunger, pain and sickness, and the lack of education put a desire to help people in Gayla's little heart.

Elsa Lund - a nurse lived on the little mission with the Latta family and she did her best to treat the natives for all sorts of illnesses.  She spent timehelping Elsa wash legs, and wounds, trying to ease pain and offer advise even as a child. Medical needs ranged from Leprosy to broken bones, parasites to death causing infections.....

Providing any sort of care was more than the children could receive at the hands of their own parents. So children would regularly be abandoned outside our door, so we could help them.  (Notice the face of President Tubman on the skirt.)  He was the  stable President of Liberia at the time... but his leadership was limited as there were no public services to provide for the thousands of african villages across Liberia.

These life-changing  experiences left deep imprints on Gayla and upon adulthood she began to offer help to many nations from a mother's perspective.

Dr Gayla's Background

Gayla was born in Illinois to Sam and Joyce Latta. Adventure came early as a tornado ripped through the small town where they were living.  Only 3 days old, cradled in her father’s arms, the young family was kneeling in prayer beside a closet when the entire house was blown away, leaving only their lives intact. This miracle began her life of adventure early.  At age 7 Gayla moved with her parents and three brothers to Liberia, West Africa, 65 miles from the nearest motor road in a mud house with a thatch roof located central to a jungle village. Along with three brothers, Gayla attended school taught by her mother. The experiences of these early adventures provided her with an early education in compassionate missions, which impacted her for life. Living amongst the African natives, and sharing their daily struggles of starvation, diseases and the dangers of witchdoctors and  animals  all shaped her destiny. Upon return to the United States to complete her schooling, Gayla met and married Evangelist Gregory Holley on December 27, 1975. As itinerant ministers and teachers, the couple travels throughout the world for over 34  years as their humanitarian works spread to many nations teaching, educating, feeding, bringing medicine and clothing to those less fortunate.  She birthed their daughter while living in another African country – in the middle of the civil war of Rhodesia which became Zimbabwe during their years there.  Having experienced firsthand the dangers of having a baby in Africa, without proper provisions, they lived through sanctions without diapers, formula, or  baby supplies. Standing in line for food while being in mortal danger was a daily responsibility for everyone.  Living through an actual war, and the sorrows that war produces, brought a deeper desire to help the hurting masses. This couple suffered through thousands of deaths with the people, unthinkable injuries, and lack of food sources for all.  They traveled often during the war using the army for transportation, to bring hope, provisions and strength to the African people   This experience again taught a lesson on compassion for the hurting having suffered personally alongside those in poverty and war. She founded ‘Moms Against Hunger’ which ships provisions to various African, European,  Asian, and Southern America nations. These nations have been supported through millions of lbs of food, clothing, shoes, medical supplies, hospital equipment and an immeasurable  amount of  aid to orphanages, hospitals, schools, villages, and to those who are in poverty around the world. through the help of her faithful supporters.    Packaged formulated rice meals are distributed to provide essential nutrients, vitamins, minerals and vital nourishment to the starving.  MOMS AGAINST HUNGER works to provide aid to those who will die without food  around the world.  Smiley carts also provide a life sustaining answer to the thousands of innocent people who have lost their legs due to landmines in wars, earthquakes or diseases.  These 3 wheel carts provide practical solutions to help the impoverished become independent in their lives.  Corporate donations as well as individual donations are gratefully received and prepared for shipping from her Houston warehouses. Moms Against Hunger strives to bring compassionate care to people around the world.

Traveling in the jungle

Traveling these days is such a breeze compared to the early  journeys into the deep jungles of Africa.  I am not talking about the Sahara Deserts of Northern African, nor the Southern plains and bush country.  Or even the mighty Mount Kilimanjaro in Kenya.  But I am talking about the sultry steamy deep jungles of West Africa! Where the trees, rope-like vines, huge leaves of vegetation and thick underbrush literally covered the entire country. And the thick jungle is teeming with live creatures. Very few roads (they were just dirt roads) had been created into the interior, and so traveling from one place to another was very difficult.  We lived 65 miles from the nearest road!   

My Daddy was a bush pilot and our form of travel was a small plane.  I will tell you more about those adventures in other posts.  But for now I just want you to understand traveling 'African style' for a moment. No maps - only paid guides, who from their years of traveling knew where they were.  No restrooms, only very watchful quick private moments off to the side.  Animals were a constant threat, and their numbers ranged from the large fierce cats prowling around constantly, to the smaller variety of ground hugging deadly spiders and bugs.  Also the many many snakes that were hanging from the trees looking just like vines!

And no restaurants for sure!  Better bring what every you planned on eating for the entire trip. Plan to travel from sun up to sundown, as safety matters first in this wild place.

Hunger was everywhere....

The Rice Process

Just the smell of raw rice takes me back in memory to my African childhood.  In case you didn't know we lived in Fassama Liberia, deep in a jungle mission. No such thing as a store, as we lived 65 miles from any road!  So I remember watching the process of rice from the heavy green heads - being cut and thrashed to remove the rice.  And once it was loosened, it was 'chopped' in these big hand carved pedestal and mortars.  When the rice was clean of it's outer husk, then it was fanned up in the air to rid it of all lingering pieces of husk and or any bugs.  T

 

I can still hear the swishing sound of the older girls expertly throwing the the rice and seeing the wind carry away tiny particles and hearing the rice slap the elongated basket.  Up and down, up and down, it was important to throughly fan it, as to not cook any bugs along with the rice! The rice that came off the basket would fall into the cardboard box to be resifted again as to not lose any precious food.  Every grain was of value.

The smell was clean and woodsy, kind of like a cotton smell.  Fanning was a every day event, as the bugs frequently invaded our supplies aggressively.  No one ever refused rice fanning, we all knew the value of fanning. 

I would hear the women and girls beating the rice hulls with alternating thrusts of their long poles into the pedestals, sometimes two would be working in one large wooden base. They were made of tree trunks and were very important to each families kitchen.  Thunk thunk they would beat and sing a song to the rhythm of their work. This was back breaking work as they would beat up and down for sometimes long amounts of time.  

The girls never minded the little white girl watching them work.  They would look at me and smile and never lose their rhythm.  I wanted to help but couldn't lift the heavy poles.  They would laugh at me and take back over again.  I couldn't help them physically then, but I can do something now!   

Look world - at these hard working women .... and still today in parts of Africa they are doing this same work. Please pray for tools and equipment, willing hearts and generous pockets to help Africa. 

The average person never thinks of the natural work that goes into getting rice from the fields to the table.  I still appreciate the process.  What a blessing to be able to just buy a bag at a store, take it home to my air conditioned clean kitchen, open the bag -simply pour some into a nice pan on my awesome stove and cook it!  I am so blessed.  Are you? Couldn't you help Africa? Mom's Against Hunger is doing so and you can be a part of the solution! 

Supper Anyone?

"Let's go get some supper" - familiar words said casually between friends are truly a luxury just to be able to say these words here in America. To go somewhere and be served a meal is a real treat! 

Not so in other parts of the world.  As a child in Fassama Liberia, West Africa my memories of eating are interesting, and sometimes scary. Eating out was not an option for us in the jungle.

Sometimes an African family  would have a special treat - monkey! This is a monkey being cooked for supper. You've got to enlarge this picture and see for yourself.  The process back in the bush was to dart the monkey - or shoot him with a shot gun - which monkeys were found plentiful in every tree,  but also very wild and hard to catch.  Then once the animal fell to the ground take the monkey and make a long slicing cut in the tail with a machete.  Then take the tail and push the cut area over the head, creating the way to carry the animal easily like a knapsack, or a hairy purse. 

Once back home - all they did was throw the monkey on the rattan screen which always was hanging over the fire.  When I say throw the monkey- I am talking about the whole animal, hair, head, entrails, hands and feet - ALL of him!  This monkey would smoke and smoke and slowly the hair would burn away (a terrible smell)  and it would 'cook'.  Our noses told us when a  monkey had been on a fire for about 3 days.  Not only was the look of it very distasteful, but the threat of it being spoiled and rotten (after 3 days in the sweltering humid heat) lent a smell that would take your breath away if the wind was just right! 

The family would eat on this for a day or so.  How did they keep from getting sick?  They didn't!  Most suffered stomach problems, and dysentery was a part of life - they did not know that their diet was a big part of their problem.

The history of Moms Against Hunger.....

My African Childhood Friends

Oh Africa I dreamed of you again last night.  Your eyes..... your hurt..... your hunger and yet your love for me.  I weep thinking of you.  I hear you say to me,  "don't forget me.  Where are you.... don't forget me.  We played together and sang songs together. We danced side by side in the sunshine, and fought together under the trees. Where are you now"?

I see hunger and deep poverty.   I  see anger and frustration with a life of not enough.  Not enough to eat. Not enough to wear. Not enough suffering to get attention from the world. Not enough medical aid. Not enough love and acceptance from other people groups. Not enough care. Not enough schooling. Not enough..... not enough.....

This picture of my African childhood friends is still with me.  I wonder where all of these are now in the world.  They are grown ups too, and probably have grand children too.  I hope their little ones are not hungry - like we all were. I hope they have plenty of clothes and shoes to wear - unlike their parents did.

Africa I will not forget...... Mom's Against Hunger provides food for you..... It will be enough..... it will be enough. My tears are forever mixed with yours.

The African Hut

In Liberia West Africa, living conditions were very poor when I was a little girl.  The descriptions that are here are STILL the way people live in the rural areas of Africa..... where my family lived when I was 6 years old. 

There were never any plants in the village.  Nor any trees.  Just dirt. And sometimes a stray village dog that always looked so skinny and starved. This young man is coming to our school..... The huts were made of stakes driven down in the ground and tied together with vines.  Once the round structure was built, then cow manure would be mixed with a little mud - and flung on the sticks.  Slowly the 'mud' would pile up and as it would dry, the natives would use their hands to smooth the texture of it to make sure it filled all gaps. 

There were not any buckets or  tools - just the bare ground and many hands working together to create a new hut. And when the walls were dry, then longer stakes were taken from the jungle trees, and cross tied above the wall creating a cone shape roof.  And then it would be tied together with more vines.  Now these vines were not just little vines, but were heavy and thick and when it was wet and softened it could be shaped.  Then when it would dry, it would tighten up and make a sturdy binding. Then the thatching would be applied, branch by branch of palm trees. And the vines would be woven around the base of the palm branches tying each one to the next one.  Until a very thick covering was created and became waterproof. Unfortunately many types of bugs and snakes lived in the thatch roofing and this could create it's own hazard for the family indoors.   

Once our house had to be redone also. Our house was square, but made of mud walls and cow dung flooring and thatch roofing also like the natives houses.  And I remember watching the natives redo the floor.  The smell was rank as the hot humid air was thick with the smell of manure and mud.  There is no hot weather like that of West Africa.  It's so humid that the jungle fairly drips with moisture - as well as all the people who constantly have to mop sweat just to see to do their work. This humidity makes everything grow like wild on the west tropical coast.  Back to the floor though. And when the floor was done, and dried it was shiny and smooth and polished like a dark colored cement.  I don't remember my mother complaining about the process.  We just stayed out of the way while the experts did their magic. 

My mother and father, would keep an watchful eye on the thatch roofing above our heads, watching for creepy crawlies to drop down.  Sleeping under mosquito netting was a blessing as we were assured of bug free rest at night - even though it was so hot to sleep under! We children did complain about sleeping under them! But mother's cause for worry was real and she would not budge about the hot sleeping 'tents'! 

Research this year has shown that 3,000 African children die a day from malaria, and that a simple mosquito net could save this many children's lives daily! 

Inside each village hut in the center of the room,  is a fire that burns constantly.  The smoke curls up into the thatch roofing turning it black and creating a pungent smell of smoky sweat!  There are no windows in the huts.  Only a door opening.  This was for the protection against animals.  And the fire burning was a deterrent against them entering the doorway.  The people would sleep around the fire. Somehow the height of the huts thatch roofing kept them from catching on fire.  And these houses would last several years until the torrential rains would wash away the strength of them and slowly they would rebuild one by one.

The smells cannot be described very easily I can just tell you that these words come to my mind as I remember back to being inside huts. Just simple words - earthy, sweat, stinky, mold, ashes, burning wood, sometimes the smell of sickness, rotting plants and foods, dirt.   It was dark inside with just a flickering flame for lights.  But politeness and manners were paramount even there within the dank chambers of abject poverty. 

And from two entirely different worlds - we learned from each other survival.  Better structures to live in from us, and how to survive this climate from them. And God took the two separate planets (it seemed at times) and blended strength and respect for one another and created love from Himself to  each of these who would allow Him into their lives. 

And that which hatred and fear, disease and plague, poverty and nothingness, ignorance and loss could not conquer - Love did.  

The History of Moms Against Hunger