It's My Life (8 page)

We got in late yesterday afternoon and they had a sort of welcome dinner for us (although we got the privilege of cleaning up afterwards). Then we were assigned rooms and stuff. Beanie, Andrea, me, and Tricia (a quiet girl from McFadden that I've been trying to reach out to)
are all sharing a room that's about ten by ten (we have bunk beds) and pretty tight. I'm sleeping up and Beanie is down. (I get too claustrophobic down there, but it's hot up here.) We're already in bed (only 9:30) but the generator goes off at ten, and then other than flashlights it'll be completely dark. But I don't think anyone minds too much, we're pretty tired and we're supposed to be up at six!

We've only seen part of the compound but it seems pretty big. This was a mission that was originally set up as an orphanage (thousands of kids are orphaned in Mexico every year). But it's grown into quite a bit more than that. And tomorrow we'll have the full tour and get our job assignments. Beanie and I both asked to work directly with the young children. Andrea wants to be on the construction crew (but I think it's because that's what Josh is doing). Tricia is working in the kitchen compound. And Zach offered to work with the older kids (he has experience with this). So we'll see how it goes.

I was too exhausted yesterday to write anything. Man, I've never been so tired in my life. I'm not sure if it's all physical either, because I'm starting to feel pretty emotionally strung out too (especially after today).

But let me back up. Yesterday, Beanie and I worked with the preschoolers in the orphanage. It was really fun (but hard work). They're all so sweet and they like lots of attention, which meant we were lifting and holding them a lot. But it was fun. I just fell in love with this one
little girl, Rosa. I wish I could take her home. I really do. I've considered calling my parents and asking. But the orphanage supervisor (an older woman from Texas named Clara) said most of the kids there were “unadoptable.” I didn't ask why yet, but I will. Anyway, little three-year-old Rosa is a sweetie pie. And she's so shy. I think that's what caught my attention. She always hangs around the fringe of the group, and it took all day, but finally I got her to get involved in a craft project. Then she sort of attached herself to me. And it was so sweet. And this morning, she came right to me and lifted up her chubby brown arms for me to pick her up. I almost cried with joy I was so happy.

So anyway, the plan today was to spend the morning in the orphanage and then to go over to another one closer to the town. This orphanage wasn't so nice (crummy building with leaky metal roof, outhouses for bathrooms, and only one sink with running water). But apparently they're doing the best with what they can afford right now and have plans for a better facility. Anyway, Beanie and I decided to spend some time doing some cleaning (it sure needed it and no one complained!), and we even tried to get the kids involved too (which got a little messy a couple of times), but I think they had fun. And when we finished, it did look better. Then on our way back to the main compound (we get to ride in this funky old Volkswagen Beetle that looks like it's about to fall apart), our guide, Alex Little (a college-aged kid whose parents are part of the mission), asked if we wanted to
stop by the dump. Well, we just sort of laughed, like we thought he was kidding. But he was completely serious. We asked why. And he said because that was part of the mission's outreach too, although due to lack of funds was somewhat neglected. So we said sure, why not?

Oh man, now let me tell you, if you ever want to have your heart just ripped right out of your chest and twisted until you think you're going to die, just go to a Mexican garbage dump. And, yes, it smells horrendous, but that's not what I'm talking about. You see, in Mexico (and apparently a lot of impoverished countries) the poorest of the poor people hang out at the garbage dump.
Whole families live there!
And they build these sad little huts out of debris of cardboard or metal or whatever they've managed to scrounge from the big, stinking pile of refuse. And then whenever fresh garbage comes in (and we're talking Mexican garbage) these scrawny, dirty, little kids scramble all over the putrid, smelling heaps, digging like desperate animals to find a scrap of moldy tortilla or a rotten apple core or whatever piece of trash that might appear edible to them.

Oh man, I just wished I'd had some food on me to toss their way. And fortunately, Alex did. He'd thought to bring along a jar of peanut butter and a loaf of bread (apparently he does this a lot), and man, you should've seen that stuff disappear. Talk about a feeding frenzy. And afterwards Alex led the kids in a couple of songs in Spanish–“Jesus Loves Me” and another one I don't know yet.

But here's what totally shames me, and it hurts to even write this down.
I didn't want those kids to touch me
. I mean, here I've been with little orphan kids all day. And sure, they were kind of dirty and smelly, but relatively clean–compared to these. These poor little dump kids were incredibly filthy (like they'd never been bathed their whole lives) and smelling like something I can't even begin to describe and would like to forget, and (I'm sorry, God!) just totally disgusting. And their little heads are shaved and bald. Alex said it keeps the lice down, but you can hardly distinguish the girls from the boys. And their tattered clothing is so filthy from crawling around in the trash.

But I'm so ashamed that I
really
did
not
want to touch them, or for them to touch me. And it makes me feel like a selfish creep. Fortunately, Beanie handled it much better than I did. She's so amazing. She got right down on their level and talked to them, and even touched them. But I just stood there like a pillar of ice. I just did
not
want to touch them. (Oh, forgive me, God!) And even as I'm writing this I can't stop crying. Everyone here thinks I'm totally losing it today. And maybe I am. I didn't go to dinner. I mean, how can I possibly eat when there are little kids literally starving out there tonight? I don't know if I'll ever be able to eat again!

And while I'm confessing about what a complete wimp and a creep I am, as soon as we got back, I had to go take a shower. I felt so unclean from just seeing those children. And then I just never wanted to come out of
the shower. And as hard as I scrubbed, I felt like I'd never be clean again–ever! Oh, I just don't know what's wrong with me. And I don't know if I'll be able to take this for nine more days. Oh, why did I ever come to this horrible place?

At breakfast today (yes, I was actually able to eat again), I just looked around at all these kids (my friends), and I couldn't understand how they could laugh and smile like there weren't these little kids starving just miles away. And I tried to act like I wasn't hurting inside, but let me tell you, I was. And I am. I don't think I'll ever get over this. I feel like I'm constantly on the verge of tears.

But I suppose it helped to be working back in the compound preschool today. These kids are clean because they get bathed daily. In fact, today, Beanie and I got to help with that. And I didn't mind touching these kids at all. It was even kind of fun to wash their dark curly hair. And I didn't even mind doing a lice check (okay, it bugged me a little at first), but we didn't find a single
nit. (That's what the eggs are called that get attached to their hair.) Anyway, these kids wear fairly nice clothes that are donated from American churches and laundered here on the compound regularly. (You should see their laundry facility, really state of the art, thanks to a generous church in Columbus, Ohio.) These kids seem really happy and healthy despite the sad lot life seems to have dealt them. In fact, as we went around the compound today, I couldn't help but notice how everyone here seems to be really and truly happy. Everyone but me, that is.

My philosophical friend (Beanie) says it's all relative. That the people being helped by the mission may seem poor by our standards, but they remember how life used to be much worse for them and they appreciate every little thing they've got now. I suppose she should know since, in some ways, she's had a pretty hard life too. I think she probably felt like an orphan quite a bit while she was growing up (even though she had a mom and a home). Then I asked her what she thought about the garbage dump kids. She got kind of quiet, then said she felt bad for them. I knew I wouldn't be able to say how I felt without breaking into tears, so I just kept it to myself, but I know she understands because she reached over and gave me a hug.

And even though I'm doing better today, I just couldn't bring myself to go to the sing-along tonight. After dinner, I asked Beanie and Zach to tell Greg that I wasn't feeling well (which isn't untrue) and then I slipped back to our
room, which is hotter than Hades tonight. But I don't really care. Tonight I'm going to do nothing but pray for those garbage dump kids. It's the only thing I know how to do at the moment. And so that's what I'm going to do. I'm not trying to be a saint (ha, the saints would be ashamed of me for the way I wouldn't let those kids touch me!), but I feel like this is what I need to do tonight.

They try to Keep
Sundays as a “day of rest” around here, but the problem is there is still lots of work to be done when there are so many children with so many needs. So we all pitched in this morning, then we went to church service (where our youth group sang several songs for the congregation), and now we pretty much get to spend the remainder of the day as we please. Right now, we're in our room having a little quiet time before we all hop in the bus and drive over to the beach (which is about an hour from here).

Thankfully, I'm feeling a little more peaceful about the situation here. I have learned (through Alex) that many of the “orphans” here at the compound are originally from the garbage dump. And that's why so many are unadoptable–they still have living parents. And although their parents (according to Alex) may be serious drug addicts or mentally ill or just basically unable to care for a child, they will not sign away their parental rights to their children. And the parents don't seem to
care that this deprives their child from ever being adopted into a loving family or into a better life. Alex says it's because Mexicans basically have a very strong sense of family and heritage, and even if they can't care for their own, they don't really want to give them up either. If you ask me, it's pretty selfish on the part of these parents, but then I probably don't really understand their culture very well yet. Anyway, this explanation did help me to feel better about the dump kids, like maybe they'll have a better situation before long. Alex says that many of them will wind up here eventually. The problem is the mission doesn't have enough room and finances to support all the local children. That's why they've developed that shabby “annex” orphanage we visited. And their plan is to create more and more orphanages, but they can only do so much for the time being. Or as so many of the people say–
mañana
(that means later). Everything around here is mañana–meaning we'll get to that later. I just wish later could come sooner.

So this is my plan. When I go home, I'm going to get everyone I can to send money down here. And I plan on doing my part too. And maybe, just maybe, we can make a difference for some of those kids out at the dump.

But for the rest of this afternoon, I will try not to dwell on these things. My friends are thinking I'm all depressed and moody. So I'll try to put on a happy face. Especially where Josh and Andrea are concerned, because Andrea is acting all sorry toward me, like I'm jealous that she and Josh are an “item.” Which is totally
ridiculous. Okay, maybe I was a little concerned at first, and yes, it tweaks me just a little even now, but somehow in light of the desperate needs of these poor, starving children, Josh and Andrea's love life (or whatever it is) just seems a trifle insignificant to me. And so I plan to laugh and smile a lot for the rest of the day.

Today Beanie and I went to the annex orphanage to help out again (our third time there). And it's amazing because
today
it seemed a whole lot better to me. I mean, it's still a shaky old rickety building with outhouses and everything, but
today
I could see how it was really a great place for all those kids to be (maybe because I was comparing it to the dump). But I mean, these kids get real food (okay, mainly beans and rice and a little fruit and milk), but they also get health care (a real nurse comes out once a week). And they have these little cots to sleep on with sheets that are fairly clean. So compared to the dump, it's like staying at the Ritz. They even have toys to play with. (Sure they're not the great est, but better than old tires and rusty tin cans.)

So anyway, before we drove the Bug over there, I stopped by the kitchen to beg a jar of peanut butter and a loaf of bread, and while the main cook wasn't looking, Beanie even threw in a few oranges that were getting slightly spongy as well as some dark-skinned bananas. And after we finished at the orphanage, guess where we went?

Beanie looked at me kind of skeptically and asked, “You sure you're up for this, Cate?”

“Yeah,” I answered as I determinedly drove the Bug over the lumpy, dusty road. The dust around here is so thick it coats you like a scaly skin, even your teeth get all gritty from it. “I
need
to do this, Beanie.”