For everyone who asked us what we’re actually doing as volunteers, this is a snapshot of our day:
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| First things first, the children wash hands and face before playing. |
We leave the offices, carrying all of our gear, at about 8:30 every morning, and travel to a different market by bus each day. The buses are busy but not crowded, so we don’t worry too much about our lunch money as long as it’s in a deep pocket. We bring rain jackets because it will rain on our afternoon market.
The markets are busy, and as we set up our not-quite-broken little canopy tent (it was two tents before one of them broke), the children are already arriving. Some are hesitant, waiting until they see a friendly face before daring to enter. Others rush in for first hugs from anybody they can before the other children arrive. All are directed to the two basins we have set up so they can wash their hands and learn the importance of hygiene. We are in a small, unused area of the market, with the market above and around us. All morning we hear the calls of “Una libra, un dolar” and we smell everything being cooked at the open-air lunch spot right next to us.
When the children need to visit the bathroom, we take them by the hand and hold on to make sure they don’t run off, walking into the bathroom past the seated, wrinkled woman selling toilet paper and the buckets of water you have to take to put in the toilet so you can flush it. There is no soap or hand washing station in the bathroom, only huge garbage bins where you can throw away the toilet paper, because the city’s sewage system can’t handle it. The smell is not pleasant.
Then it’s away from the bathroom, children once again in hand, back to the tents, where the ‘prof’ or teacher, is leading all the kids in learning their vowels: ahhh, ehhhh, eeeee, ohhhhh, oooooo. Later we will give them all a piece of paper stamped with the vowels and help them glue letters cut from magazines onto the page, and then they’ll color the paper with broken bits of crayon.
One little girl falls asleep crying on my lap; I think it must be her first time away from Mom. I feel her pain; I miss home too, right now. Other children nestle up to me, sitting on the cement pavement, all eager for any word of approval. They show me their glued and painted pages over and over again to hear how nice, how beautiful, I love it, I’m so proud of you, look what a good job you did. Many come just to be close to a grown-up who will not push them away.
Tyler has his hands full with a small child (who might be a boy or a girl, we don't know), who one of the other volunteers warns me is always a troublemaker. The child can’t seem to decide between trying to get away, and playing with the toes on Tyler’s Vibram shoes.
I get my hands dirty on the pavement as I try to shift myself to better accommodate the weight of the silently crying child on my lap. I laugh with the other children over how I need to wash my hands, too, but I don’t dare get up. I wipe the little girl’s tears away, speaking soothing words, but even that little bit of kindness is too unfamiliar, and she begins to cry in earnest. One of the staff members notices, and carries her off to her family. The other children stare at her tears for a moment, but don’t make any moves to help. Here each child must care for himself or herself; there is not enough care to go around, even with all the volunteers have to give.
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| Holding hands for safety. |
Now it is time to go, and we wait for parents to recover their children. The older ones can go on their own, but some are waiting in vain. We take them by the hand and begin to navigate the maze of the market, hoping to encounter a face they recognize. Some remember where their families are; others do not. All are smiling at the fun they had coloring today. Many give us hugs as they leave, and a few even show their families what they did today.
As I look at their families, I feel like I am glimpsing the future these small, bright little children will have without an education: a makeshift life selling fruit along with hundreds of other fruit-sellers, making enough to scrape by each day, and sometimes not quite enough; but always surrounded by family. Suddenly I begin to understand why family is so all-important in Latin American culture: sometimes family is all you have, and it is still enough. As long as you have family, you have everything you need.
Time for lunch for the volunteers: not the delicious-smelling food being cooked by the market vendors, but a huge, $3.00 almuerzo at a safe restaurant nearby. After lunch it’s back to the market for a few more hours, giving all the love and attention we can. I ask them what they ate for lunch: soup, they say, or rice and chicken. Some bring a piece of fruit as their lunch. We do the same activities over, and despite the fact that many were there in the morning, they still ask for my approval of this afternoon’s work: good job, it’s beautiful, I love it, I say. They all try to be as close to me as possible, and it’s hard not to just sit and snuggle them all. At 4:30, it’s time to pack up the tents and head home. We take the bus back to the office, once again carrying all our things, and from there head back home, to relax for a while before another much-anticipated dinner.
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| They're ready for a nap and Tyler is ready to play. |
I’ve been truly humbled here. These children have so much potential, but they need so much more than we can give. They need school supplies, and help with homework, and more than anything else they need love and individual recognition. We give what we can and trust that together with the other volunteers’ efforts and the continued efforts of the program staff, it will be enough for most of them.
When one of our two tents broke down, I asked the staff if they’re going to replace it. They told me it’s simply not in the budget right now, as they are still trying to raise enough money to provide the children starting school with notebooks, pencils, erasers, and other necessary school supplies.
I know we’re all busy and we have so many things to worry about. But I want to ask you to think for a moment about the things we don’t have to worry about, like whether or not there will be enough money for a 15 cent notebook, or whether or not our loved ones will beat us for not working hard enough today (at least I hope nobody at home has to worry about that!!!). This program is taking kids from the streets and helping them to become engineers and doctors, giving them an opportunity to become more. Most of these children are the first in their families to learn how to read and write. All need help. I hope you can find it in your heart (and wallet) to help out with this program, or others like it, since I know there are needs all over the world. Here is the link where you can read about UBECI and their efforts, and help out if you can.
Thanks!
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