Claire Crawford

“Salamat!”

Half a world away from my home in Mississippi and having just finished a lunch of calamari and lechon, I looked around myself and realized how different life was for children in the Philippines.

They were surrounded by nature’s finest products and warm weather year round; yet for some of the families, their circumstances were also their misfortunes.

I was born with a cleft lip and palate and eventually had nine corrective surgeries. The more than 200 children that surrounded me on screening day, however, were not so lucky.

Many of the children I met in Cebu had low self-confidence because they had spent their lives being the objects of ridicule, without being able to eat, speak, or breathe normally.

The younger children, however, typically hadn’t yet realized that they were “different.” One little girl wore a huge smile on her face all the time, and even though she had an incomplete cleft lip, it wasn’t noticeable when she widened her lips in a grin.

Another girl, Justine, loved watching me blow bubbles as I held her in my lap, but when she held up the bubble wand to her cleft-affected lip, all she produced was soapy spit. I pressed my cheek against hers and blew for her, and she was thrilled once again.

Over the past two years, I have been raising money for cleft teddy bears with stitches above their lips, a surgery cleft lip patients like myself had. I was able to take a golf case carrier full of these bears to the children in the Philippines to hold during their surgeries.

I got past the jokes from my team members about my suitcase (“are you planning on playing around while you’re here?”) and was able to give the bears to some of the children at the site. I was so happy when I found out that Justine was one of the first lucky children to receive her surgery, and I gave her the first bear. I showed her the stitches and she stroked the teddy bear's lip.

I watched as her grandfather nervously watched her go into the OR to return in less than an hour with a repaired cleft lip. When I next saw Justine in the post-operating room, her grandfather was affectionately stroking her hair. She tried to tip the corners of her lips up in a smile when she saw me, and I could tell that once her stitches healed, she would be able to blow her very own bubbles.

Justine was one of 198 children in Cebu who would receive surgery in a short five days. As a privileged student team member, I was able to meet almost every child; in so doing, I found that each one had a unique story.

Some had traveled from surrounding islands or had been waiting for years for this chance at surgery. For any small gift we gave to the children, we would get a grateful “Salamat!” and warm smile. This thank you was the most beautiful gift I could ever receive, and it reminded me to be more thankful for all the things I normally take for granted.

There was one mother of a child who was so grateful for the time and attention that my student partner and I had given to her son that she took the bracelet and earrings she was wearing off of herself and gave them to us. I will always treasure my gift and remember that it was probably the only jewelry she owned.

This short 10-day trip changed my perspective on everything. One of the most important lessons I learned was the importance and universality of a simple smile. A smile is a symbol of hope, peace, love, and friendship that is timeless and irreplaceable.

For many of the children I met, a smile was the only gift they could afford; but it was the material of the most precious memories that will stay in my heart forever. And for that, I would like to say a heartfelt “Salamat!” to all the people of Cebu.