THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1994, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Sunday, December 18, 1994 TAG: 9412150092
SECTION: HAMPTON ROADS WOMAN PAGE: 04 EDITION: FINAL
SOURCE: BY DENISE WATSON, STAFF WRITER
LENGTH: Long : 153 lines
THE CHILDREN had to stand on the scuffed toes of their shoes to see over the edge of the lace-covered banquet table. Layers of blue-stuffed bears, bright-yellow birds, plush-gold tigers covered one end of the lace while candy canes, bigger than the children's thumbs, formed a red-and-white maze at the other.
Christmas had come early to the farm workers of Onley, a small town on the Eastern Shore where hundreds of migrant workers from South America have settled to scrape a living out of the seasonal crops there.
The children knew it was going to be a special night at St. Peter's Catholic church. The boys wore clean sweat shirts, a few fidgeted with their ties. The girls' dresses bounced over well-starched crinoline; their tights, torn in places, were spotless. But the bearer of gifts this evening wasn't ``El Nino Jesus'' as he is often called in South American culture but Olga Crupper, a Hampton woman who has made faith, hope and charity her full-time job.
Crupper stands behind the piles and starts granting wishes:
``Can I have a big bird, pllleeaaase?''
``I want a bear!''
``Oh, can I have a candy cane, too?''
The piles soon disappear, and Crupper has a chance to admire her handiwork - children content with something as small as a fuzzy raccoon and a napkin full of treats. Parents who are happy because their children are happy.
Crupper has tears in her eyes.
``Excuse me,'' she says in her thick Spanish accent, ``but I am so filled with love right now. This is what this is all about. This is why I do what I do.''
Crupper has spent many of her 50 or so years giving to those who had nothing, listening to those whom others have shut out. Earlier that day, Crupper filled a trailer with volunteers, food, toys and clothing for a special delivery on the Eastern Shore. Days later, she traveled to Washington to have a dentist's chair flown to the jungles of Guatemala where she's helping to set up a dental clinic. On any given night, she's in a van driving around Norfolk or Hampton, shepherding the homeless into a church for a bowl of soup and a warm bed.
``It's just the love of people. It's a need that comes from my heart,'' Crupper said. ``From when I was a little girl, I learned to do something without expecting anything. . . I learned everybody deserves to be treated with respect and love.''
Crupper runs her world-relief organization from a converted office in her Hampton home. It's well-used. A stack of letters asking for donations waits to be mailed. A tub of letters postmarked from the Pavon Penitentiary in Guatemala City sits on a desk - thank-you notes from prisoners Olga had visited. Visitors can usually find boxes of Godiva chocolates lying about, but Crupper is out.
``I give them to my migrant workers, or homeless,'' she says matter-of-factly. ``How else will they ever get something like that? They deserve a nice treat, too.''
Crupper is energy, always moving like she can't sit still. Her enthusiasm is almost tangible. It's not hard to see how the Guatemalan aristocrat evolved to a woman who recently donned a clown's outfit at a children's party when the clown did a no-show.
Crupper was born in Guatamala City but traveled extensively because of her father's work with the government. She attended private schools in Europe and Central America to ``learn how to be a hostess.''
``That's what I was supposed to do. Grow up, marry someone rich and do those things.''
Her real education, however, came from her stays at the family's coffee farm in Guatemala.
``I remember how the workers, the Indians were treated, and their living conditions,'' Crupper said. ``The people who worked for us were always treated with respect and well-cared for, but others were not.''
For Crupper that meant helping them learn how to read, even going against her religion at times.
``There were so many women dying from having babies. They had nine children and having more. I'm Catholic and birth control is a BIG ah-ah but many people didn't see the things that I did; we needed to do something,'' Crupper said.
``I helped educate the workers about different birth-control methods. These women are going to perish and their children will be without a mother.''
Crupper married when she was 19 and began her life of a socialite, traveling around the world, living in Germany, Africa, Asia. She married three times and had two children. She became fluent in German, French and can stumble through Italian. But in the whirl of parties and soirees, Crupper always directed part of her energies to the poor.
``Of course I got criticized. I could be somewhere traveling with my husband. Everyone asked, `Are you going to get paid for this?' `No,' '' Olga said.
``My father taught me one thing. No matter how high you get, never forget where you come from. I remembered.''
She married her third husband, Wayne, 12 years ago and moved to Hampton in 1985. She formed an international trading company and worked as a liaison with other countries trying to lure American enterprise.
In 1993, she was asked to serve as an interpreter for Kings Daughters Ministries of the Virginia Peninsula, a missionary group that was traveling to Guatemala to take donations to the prisoners there.
``Before I entered the prison, a man said, `Olga your life will never be the same once you go in there,' '' Olga remembered.
``And he was right.''
Crupper found men who were threadbare and had no shoes. She met Ottoniel Aguilalar y Blanco, a Nicaraguan serving a 15-year sentence because he lost his passport and didn't have the money to pay his fines. She would later help him get a lawyer.
She later visited the women's prison, where the children were incarcerated with their mothers. When the children reach their seventh birthday, they are released to other family members or to the streets.
``There is nothing there for these people, nothing,'' Crupper says, putting her hands to her head and shuddering.
``They just need so many things. They had no medicine. The children had no diapers. I cannot describe how horrible it was.''
Crupper returned home and formed Human Relief Organization; helping the less fortunate had become her full-time job. Others heard of Crupper's work and began to help.
``Olga is a wonderful, caring person whose objective is to provide help to those who need it,'' said Sandra Mueller, a dental assistant, who is working with Crupper to set up a dental clinic in the Eastern Shore for the migrant workers.
``Not only is she working with the needy here but the needy around the world. One of the reasons why I find it rewarding to do this type of work is because I work with Olga.''
Crupper recently returned from Central America to coordinate American medical services with those countries. Physicians for Peace, a nonprofit organization that promotes friendship by providing free specialized medical care to needy countries, has agreed to make a trip to the region next year. The Mercy Ships, privately-owned hospital vessels, will also help.
But the more Crupper does, the more she realizes there's so much more to be done.
``When I was there, I met a 5-year-old boy who urinates through his belly button. The doctors there have done some work but he needs more help from someone in the States who knows more,'' Crupper said, holding the little boy's picture in her hands.
``So now I'm looking for a urologist who wouldn't mind donating his time,'' she says as she shrugs, adding it to her mental list of things to do.
``But, this is what I do. That is why I'm here. God has brought these people to me to show me what I was meant to do with my life.'' ILLUSTRATION: PAUL AIKEN/Staff color photos
Olga Crupper hands out presents to the children of farm workers at a
Christmas program at St. Peter's Catholic church in Onley, Va.
Crupper substitutes for a missing performer in the Christmas
program, organized by the King's Daughters Ministries. The Guatemala
City native heads a world-relief organization.
A puppet show captures the attention of all the South American
children attending the program.
Veronica, 8, left, and Rocio Magana, 6, are mesmerized.
by CNB