I'd like for you to meet Estela. She's 16 and in my eyes she's absolutely beautiful. She's somewhat quiet, prefers one-on-one, and will avoid crowds whenever possible. When given a job, you can be sure she'll do her best. Even when given tough and even gross jobs, she figures that talking about won't change the job, so she just gets the job done. She loves the outdoors, being with the really young tykes, and sports. She's a tomboy thru and thru. She doesn't like school and feels like she doesn't fit in. She's only in middle school, though I'm not certain which grade. She speaks English well and can do my math flash cards better than most. She usually makes friends easily with small groups or individuals that visit. (See photo)
Last Christmas I decided to try to get to know her better. We worked together on preparing and sending out cards to over 250 sponsors. That's when I found out that she doesn't like to have background noise (or for that matter, any noise) or even Christmas music playing when she's trying to concentrate. I can relate because I'm the same way. But think about it, when you live in a fairly small room of bunk beds with 13 other teenagers and in a Home with 63 others, and sit in a class with way too many others and lots of chaos...well, there's not much quietness that would allow her to think clearly. That might explain at least in part as to why Estela has performed poorly in school, and as of this year was put into an apprenticeship at a bakery instead of going to school.
Over the last couple of months we've spent a fair amount of time shooting hoops (basketball) and just sitting and talking. One day recently, I took the opportunity to wash dishes with her. (I'm
sure my mom will never believe that I offered to wash dishes :) Before I go on, you've got to picture this dish scene. Outside of the building that houses the kitchen and dining room is a row of 4 deep concrete sinks. My grandma's house had this kind of sink. It's called a "pila" here. There's no hot water in the kitchen or at these sinks. Dishes are washed with a worn out sponge and/or green scrubby thing that has been on the ground and played with by the umpteen cats we have around. And I should tell you that cleaning pots, pans, and plastic dishes all covered in grease is no fun with no warm water and some sort of paste-like dish detergent. OK....back to Estela. Britney had once said that she felt like dish washing time was a great time for getting to know a kid. So, I washed dishes with Estela. What I learned has made a huge difference in my life and how I understand these kids.
Estela and all her other siblings (4 older brothers) were bought to our Home when she was 5 years old. She doesn't remember the day. She was bought here because her father said her mother was dead. She doesn't remember that day either. Neither she nor any of her brothers know why/how their mom died. They don't know where their dad is, but have heard he's still alive. Estela went on to tell me that she misses being with her brothers which have all grown and left the Home. When she gets a chance she goes to see her 2 brothers that live together, along with her brothers "wife", and their 2 children (one just born in 2008). She really enjoys her job and enjoys using her hands and learning how to make various pastries and cakes. She's glad to not be in school. Her self confidence is growing as she sees that she's able to do well at something....finally. When I ask her what she wants to do when she grows up, she says she wants to work in a bakery. But here's the rub...When I asked what she dreamed of doing when she was a little girl. She just shrugged her shoulders. She said she didn't have any dreams.
Now maybe I'm the one who's in left field, but I can't imagine a kid not having any dreams. You know...wanting to be an astronaut or firefighter or nurse/doctor, or president, or teacher, etc. When I was a kid and my parents told me that I could be and do anything I wanted when I grew up, I believed them with all my heart. To this very day anything related to NASA still causes my heart to stir. And I remember dreams about being a music director of an orchestra. But to have a childhood w/o dreams...well, it's just hard for me to fathom. Yet, the more time I spend here, the more I find stories very similar to that of Estella. They can't ever remember not living here, and they often don't have any dreams.
Unlike most of my blog entries, this one doesn't have a nice tied up ending. It just ends. I told you about Estela because I wanted you to oin me as we have a chance to get a glimpse of the heart of one of these kids.
Last Christmas I decided to try to get to know her better. We worked together on preparing and sending out cards to over 250 sponsors. That's when I found out that she doesn't like to have background noise (or for that matter, any noise) or even Christmas music playing when she's trying to concentrate. I can relate because I'm the same way. But think about it, when you live in a fairly small room of bunk beds with 13 other teenagers and in a Home with 63 others, and sit in a class with way too many others and lots of chaos...well, there's not much quietness that would allow her to think clearly. That might explain at least in part as to why Estela has performed poorly in school, and as of this year was put into an apprenticeship at a bakery instead of going to school.
Over the last couple of months we've spent a fair amount of time shooting hoops (basketball) and just sitting and talking. One day recently, I took the opportunity to wash dishes with her. (I'm
sure my mom will never believe that I offered to wash dishes :) Before I go on, you've got to picture this dish scene. Outside of the building that houses the kitchen and dining room is a row of 4 deep concrete sinks. My grandma's house had this kind of sink. It's called a "pila" here. There's no hot water in the kitchen or at these sinks. Dishes are washed with a worn out sponge and/or green scrubby thing that has been on the ground and played with by the umpteen cats we have around. And I should tell you that cleaning pots, pans, and plastic dishes all covered in grease is no fun with no warm water and some sort of paste-like dish detergent. OK....back to Estela. Britney had once said that she felt like dish washing time was a great time for getting to know a kid. So, I washed dishes with Estela. What I learned has made a huge difference in my life and how I understand these kids.Estela and all her other siblings (4 older brothers) were bought to our Home when she was 5 years old. She doesn't remember the day. She was bought here because her father said her mother was dead. She doesn't remember that day either. Neither she nor any of her brothers know why/how their mom died. They don't know where their dad is, but have heard he's still alive. Estela went on to tell me that she misses being with her brothers which have all grown and left the Home. When she gets a chance she goes to see her 2 brothers that live together, along with her brothers "wife", and their 2 children (one just born in 2008). She really enjoys her job and enjoys using her hands and learning how to make various pastries and cakes. She's glad to not be in school. Her self confidence is growing as she sees that she's able to do well at something....finally. When I ask her what she wants to do when she grows up, she says she wants to work in a bakery. But here's the rub...When I asked what she dreamed of doing when she was a little girl. She just shrugged her shoulders. She said she didn't have any dreams.
Now maybe I'm the one who's in left field, but I can't imagine a kid not having any dreams. You know...wanting to be an astronaut or firefighter or nurse/doctor, or president, or teacher, etc. When I was a kid and my parents told me that I could be and do anything I wanted when I grew up, I believed them with all my heart. To this very day anything related to NASA still causes my heart to stir. And I remember dreams about being a music director of an orchestra. But to have a childhood w/o dreams...well, it's just hard for me to fathom. Yet, the more time I spend here, the more I find stories very similar to that of Estella. They can't ever remember not living here, and they often don't have any dreams.
Unlike most of my blog entries, this one doesn't have a nice tied up ending. It just ends. I told you about Estela because I wanted you to oin me as we have a chance to get a glimpse of the heart of one of these kids.
