Day 12, I Think-The Kids

I’ll describe the kids so you can understand what I’m dealing with.
First, you need to know that this place is a safe haven. The kids don’t want to leave it. Here, they are told they’re loved, fed, given freedom, and enough food to eat-and a warm bed. Their own bed. The small towns around here are Indians, and some don’t speak Spanish, but a weird Indian dialect. Other Guatemalan towns are happier, friendlier, and better off than here. But these towns are owned by Satan. They worship a god of prostitution and alcohol, which leads to the accepting of molestation/rape/abuse of kids. They also drink alcohol like water. When we went into town the other day, we saw men standing with young girls and beckoning passersby.
Lucia is a victim of this. She was fortunate enough to go to school, where a teacher asked her why she wasn’t participating in sports. She replied, “I’m pregnant.” The teacher had the situation investigated into. Lucia and her son, Josue, showed up at Hands of Compassion’s door, 12 years old and a few months old. The responsibility of a child has been lifted off of her small shoulders here, and she treats him as a little brother (well, he is) when she feels like it. She actually prefers Isaac to take care of (the girls have to help with the babies).
Despite having such genetically close parents, Josue is the most advanced of all the babies. He’s usually happy, cries the least, can almost walk, and is always getting into trouble.
Mercedes is a few months old. She was found by the side of a river, with the umbilical cord still attached. Abortion is illegal here (one thing Guatemala has done right) so they resort to dirty illegal abortions and throwing newborns in the river or trash.
Jacob is a year old. He has enormous brown eyes that make him look like the pathetic puppy. He was found in a field, crying. He was taken to a hospital for 5 months until he was given to Hands of Compassion, which is why he is a bit behind.
Isaac is even more behind. He was left in the hospital for 5 months as well, and hates doing anything but lying around. He is a year old and can barely crawl.
Mynor was neglected by his alcoholic parents. He has symptoms of Alcohol Syndrome. This means that he is INSANE. He acts like any other baby-always needs attention and his own way, except it’s accentuated. His screams can be heard from 100 feet away, inside of another house. But he’s adorable. He has chubby cheeks, waddles around, and instead of talking, he points and makes squeaky noises.
Korina was also neglected by her alcoholic parents (everyone around here is an alcoholic) and is the youngest. She is tiny and has the facial features and hair of one of those toy trolls. She’s the best behaved baby and Josh and Donna might adopt her.
I don’t touch Davey, who is Deb and Dave’s son. He is a few months younger than Mynor, but is the same size. They fight a lot, but Davey is favored and gets lesser or no punishments for the same thing Mynor does.
Anjelito, or On-hell-eeto, and his sister Vidalia were abandoned to live off worms in a dump. When they came here, Vidalia had lice and Anjelito’s belly was swollen and had grey hair, which is a sign of malnourishment. They’re beautiful, loving kids, but still have issues. Vidalia was caught cheating in school last week, and Anjelito is so lazy that he is late for breakfast everyday because he takes so long to do his chore, and wets the bed.
Esai, or Ee-sy-ee, looks like a monkey and acts like one too. I don't know his or his siblings' past.
Saul, or Sa-ool, is a taller version of Esai, which makes sense since they're brothers. I don’t spend much time with either of them.
Jeamy, or Jamie, is 13 and has been here for 4 years. She speaks incredible English, is active and helpful, but gets in trouble a lot, mostly social issues with the kids. She's bossy, even with the volunteers, and has the attitude my mother accuses me of having.
Angel, or On-hell, speaks near perfect English and is waiting to renew his visa so he can go back to the states with his adopted parents, the former orphanage directors. He lies sometimes, but is usually pretty helpful.
Maria was abandoned in a hospital when she was 4, and since no one wanted her, she stayed there till she was 7 when her mother decided she was old enough to make money off of by prostituting her until she died when Maria was 10. Maria was then adopted by an old lady who didn’t treat her nicely, and was raped several times while living there. The old hag decided she was too much, and gave her up to HOC. Maria is now 12 years old, quiet, helpful, and stunningly beautiful. She seems so innocent, you’d never guess what her past was like.
Rosa is the second biggest pain here, the first being the almost constant chorus of screaming babies. She is an adorable 3 year old who can barely talk, likes to lie, and doesn’t know colors, animals other than a sheep, the alphabet, or how to count to 10. I tried teaching her, but gave up after 3 days of watching her play the dumb card. I tried bribing her with play time and choco-puffs, the cereal we eat for breakfast every other day, and make Tabby sick.
Yelsi is 17, and I don’t know her past either. She speaks English, and is very mature for her age. She works in town on Saturdays, goes to school in town (while carrying mace on her wrist, of course) and does a ton around here. She is considered one of the adults.
Martina is a special needs child. She is 14 years old, but looks 8. She was thrown into a fire by her mother, (but was rescued by someone else), which is why her face, neck, and arms are deformed. Not only is her body a mess, but she is very mentally retarded. She can’t walk or talk, except when she gives this weird moan-laugh. Each day, an assigned girl (Emily and I have Sundays) drags her out of bed, bathes her, chops up her food to feed her for every meal, lets her sit on a toilet for 20 minutes after wards, reads to her, lets her sit buckled in on a swing outside, makes her stand leaning against a wall for 2 hour-long sessions, makes her walk by holding onto her arms from behind and pushing her feet, changes her diaper, and puts her to bed. This duty is grueling and grotesque. I don’t know how people can do this for a living.
All in all, I love the kids here. They give me headaches, confound me with their stupidity, amaze me with their bilingual skills, make me want to slap them with their attitudes and laziness, and make me want to fix their problems with their lack of innocence, that was taken too early. I was surprised to hear that all of them had been molested except the babies, because they don't show it anymore; the first few weeks however, some of them were touching each other inappropriately.
Of course, they aren't enough to keep me in Guatemala-this is the part where I gush cheesiness. I am actually a bit homesick for the people I love, and I want fall asleep thinking about them every night.