Sin Papa

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Being here for a long time means getting to know the harsh backrounds of quite a few kids that come to both centers I volunteer at. Lots of reality checks and heartbreaks; most of which I've learned in the past month or so.

One heartbreak is about Samuel and coming to find out his father beats him. I've always said since the beginning that I knew something was wrong at home. I thought his father had left, typical of a Colombian father to do, but instead he gives his tiny little boy a beat up face.

The other is getting to go to the two girls' home that took a liking to me on Crackhead lunch day (I go to San Jose almost daily now, so I've gotten to know them quite well). It turns out a family of four lives in this place, which I can't even call a home. Their hallway is outside and four rooms go off to the right (I suppose one family per room), and to the left is the wall-less view over other rooftops as they live on a hill, jammed up against the other crummy homes. Their sort of outdoor kitchen is found at the end of the sort of hallway. It's the only place where they all can combine and smells absolutely rancid. It's most likely from all the geese and chicken running around and pooping all over the cemented, wet, dirty kitchen floor. And you'd never know this about these girls. They're always so clean and smiley -which where they shower also begs the question...I'm tempted to say it's in the river. They even served me a giant glass of freshly made mango juice while I was there. Me and my scared stomach were petrified to drink it after seeing where they get their water from. However, I forced myself to drink it. I felt too guilty to not do so, I know that the big glass they gave me was more than they could afford.

Then there's Mariana and Sebastian. Their mother eventually abandoned them. Before that, she barely paid any attention to them. One time, Mariana stuck her fingers in a socket. As a result, she has some pretty strange looking fingers, on both hands.

What really got to me though, was stumbling upon one of the older boy's past homework assignment today. He's about 12 and has two younger sisters, which I've actually grown to be closer with over these past few weeks. I was sitting outside with the three of them today, and he gave me his notebook to show me his finished homework. When I finished looking over it, I turned to the very first page to catch his name (I told you I was bad at names!), but it wasn't there. So I turned the next page where I found a paragraph with the title "Mis Vacaciones". Curious as to what these kids do or where they go for vacation, I decided to read it. Instead, I found myself reading the most depressing vacation story ever. He had begun by writing how he didn't like going on vacation, because his father doesn't come with them. From there, he elaborates on how he doesn't like the fact that his father is no longer living with them, and how he's sad for his sisters and mother who also have to live without him. At one point, he said he saw his father the day before he wrote the paragraph, and his father was hitting another woman. I had expected to read about some trip to the lake or to grandma's, you know, something pleasurable like most vacations are. Instead, I wound up with a boys' heartache, yearning for his father. A feeling most of these kids know all too well as the majority of the fathers here abandon their kids when they're only 3-or-4-years-old.

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