Anawim exists to support vulnerable children and their families in a way that helps them to stay together.
about Us
Children
Children are at the heart of what we do and our strategy is to protect them,
by eradicating the risk of family disintegration.
Founder
The founder of Anawim started the organization with the belief
that little actions can bring big changes.
“The cycle of poverty is a term often used in the NGO world, and many promises have been made in its name.
In my time in Sri Lanka, I observed the tea and rubber plantation mothers leave their children for employment in the Middle East, at times never returning. In Tanzania, I met many disabled children abandoned by their parents due to the barriers that vulnerable families encounter when trying to access vital services.
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Initially, my plan was to open a children's home, and as I started the process, I quickly realized that many of the children in orphanages still have a living parent or relative. Something in my heart told me to find another way. A way that could keep families together. A way that would bring lasting change, a change that would empower the whole community.
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We started Anawim with one child, one family and my mission is to reach out to many more in areas that have been forgotten. I feel amazingly privileged to know these communities, to meet the children, the families and to work together to build a future of hope.”
Patricia Godley, Founder
How it all started...
Anawim began with a love story.
Maliki is the first child that God entrusted me with. The moment I saw him, I knew I had to spend the rest of my time in Tanzania by his side. He was a 13 year old boy, partially paralyzed due to malaria and typhoid. He and his grandmother, Bibi, were temporarily living in a mud hut at a traditional hospital compound, looking for answers to his ailment.
I admired Bibi.
She laughed despite her husband suffering from dementia and waking up screaming at all hours.
She laughed despite the rain leaking and seeping in their tiny little mud hut.
She laughed as she undid the bug ridden bed made of branches and rice bags.
She laughed as she carried Maliki on her back.
She laughed as they ate boiled green bananas three times a day.
I wasn’t the only one who noticed her heart. All the children of the community would come to her hut. She would always greet them with gentleness, wiping their noses and turning the little she had into a true haven.
Observing Bibi had me questioning the nature of my own heart. Could I ever be so kind and gentle amidst such suffering?
At that time, the answer was clearly no. But I wanted to know how. I had tried meditating upon mountains tops, yet I knew that the 'love' I felt in those moments was based but on solitude and quietness. I had tried every self-help, positive thinking, guru on this planet, but the love I felt was based on creating my perfect life of happiness, health and abundance, my soul whispering to me: this isn’t the way.
Can you still love when they mock you? When you’re ill? When you lose everything?
My time with Maliki, Bibi and many other children was filled with little miracles. Moments that cannot be put in words, so much so that upon my return home, I thought I had imagined it all.
Those moments were God.
He was slowly opening my eyes and preparing my heart for the greatest love story of all time.
For God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten son, so that everyone who believes in Him will not perish, but have eternal life.
John 3.16