Mi Chiquita esta Gordita!

I walked to each doorway, peeking into the rooms. Every crib held a little sleeping body, bathed in the mint-green sunlight reflected off the painted walls. Tiny limbs poked through the bars of some of them; dark fuzzy heads were visible beneath blankets in others. I scanned each room quickly, looking for familiar faces.

I strode across the small hallway, towards the rooms that always seemed to hold the babies nearest and dearest to me- Sandra included. The children with special needs always ended up in there for one reason or another. I had decided to look in that room last. I knew from speaking to Juan Pablo that Sandra was gone, as were almost all of the others.

An additional crib had been wedged into the room, crowding the small space even further, and complicating my efforts to peek inside each crib without waking anyone. I spotted Magaly, sleeping soundly in the corner crib, curled up on her side with one shoe on and one shoe off. Her shiny black hair hung straight across her face, obscuring my view of her almond-shaped eyes and petite nose. Only her tiny pink mouth peeked out.

The crib to my left held a healthy-looking girl with familiar features. I took in her large ears, beautiful eyes, button nose, rosebud mouth, and full cheeks. She looked at me, smiled, reached her arms up, and began to fuss. Could this be the same little girl I spent an entire month coaxing just one smile out of? The little girl who was so disinterested in people and toys? The little girl who was so frightfully thin and frail just two months ago?

I reached my hand between the bars and stroked her cheek.


Alison. Chica linda, tu me recuerdes?    She briefly stopped fussing and looked at my eyes before continuing her impassioned treatise for me to pick her up.

As I lifted her from her crib, I was delighted to feel the weight she's put on. Compared to her former self, she's downright chubby now. Compared to a typical American baby, she's still likely a bit underweight.

Developmentally, she has made some progress, though she continues to present with very significant delays. A fellow volunteer reported that they feel she may have autism, although I don't agree. I still feel strongly that there is an underlying issue impacting her development beyond "simply malnutrition," but autism it is not.

Alison is still a timid, cautious baby who is reluctant to touch toys and fully explore them, but she displays some promising progress in her social skills. Alison frequently made eye contact with me; she delighted in watching me pull Legos apart and made eye contact expectantly when I paused between each block as if to say, "come on! do another!"

She is aso beginning to initiate play, though only in the few activities that she seems to prefer. She showed a particular affinity for the Sesame Street Shapes board book I had donated during my last tenure as a volunteer, and loved to turn the pages and point to the pictures. When I put the book down and tried to move to different toys, she several times handed me the book, made eye contact, and fussed until I began to read it again. Her social skills are delayed, but no more than her play, motor, and cognitive skills appear to be delayed at first glance.

At such a young age (under two), given her global delays, I think it's impossible to look at her and say with any certainty that she could have autism. Is she off? A little funky? Absolutely. A lot of parents and caregivers become concerned with autism if a child isn't interacting as they should socially. If all of a child's skills are at a certain level, consistent with their general development, the delays in social functioning are likely reflective of a bigger issue, rather than the sole issue impacting them.

A very well-respected doctor with years of experience diagnosing autism in children under age three delivered a presentation at the hospital I used to work for; the most prominent marker she noted for autism at that young age was a lack of initiation of social interaction. Alison makes eye contact and engages in reciprocal interactions and, although unable to communicate verbally in any effective way, does attempt to initiate those interactions.

For those wondering how Magaly has fared since her surgery- quite well! Her mother wasn't at the center, and I'm hoping that she is safe and well considering the domestic abuse she was staying at the center to avoid in the past. Magaly's legs are certainly stronger then when I left; the muscles holding her femurs into her hips are tightening up and she isn't so loosey-goosey legs out wide all the time any longer. She can stand with assistance and loves taking slow, laborious steps when held beneath her underarms to get toys from the basket (which we did a lot of today!). She fatigues easily, but has come so far from the little girl in the giant cast that she once was. I can only imagine the freedom she must feel.

There aren't currently any children with cerebral palsy or any obvious neuromuscular issues, but I imagine there are at least one or two like Alison.  I have to admit that I spent much of my time today with her, "catching up" and bonding again. I've signed up for a few shifts over the next week to ease back into things and hopefully get a better sense of where the kids are, developmentally speaking. There are 19 kids there now- a full house! Pictures soon- I promise. :)

My visit to Casa Jackson, while a welcome one for me, was rather unexpected. Intending only to meet the new coordinator Heather and discuss joining the volunteer schedule, I had walked to Nuestros Ahijados after lunch and found myself waiting at the entrance to Nuestros Ahijados with the afternoon volunteers when Megan and Heather arrived at the gate. Heather had been mugged on her walk back from her apartment in La Candelaria, in the southern part of Antigua. She was visibly shaken and would not be going to Casa Jackson just yet. 

Megan asked if I could take the new volunteers to Casa and run them through the brief orientation. Just like that, I was walking down the dusty road that stretches from Antigua to Jocotenango, talking to a high school senior traveling with her mother who was interested in pursuing a career in physical or occpuational therapy upon graduation, describing the myriad of issues that the kids at the center often present with. It was almost like I'd never left.

I did have an opportunity to speak with Heather when she arrived, looking far less distressed, later in the afternoon. Heather mentioned that her primary interest is actually in community outreach and working directly with the families rather than just the volunteers and institutional setting. She said she saw no issue with me working on implementing some training for volunteers whenever I was ready to do so, and fully supported any community visits I may want to set up. While I thought that would be the case, it's such a relief to get the official green light from the new coordinator- and also to learn that she sees the community work as as much of a priority as I do.

Casa Jackson- game on. :)

Produce and Politics

Yesterday's trip to the mercado (my first since returning) was at first a mission to find a decent blender. For those unaware, I probably imbibe about half of my day's food in liquid form. This is not a weight-loss strategy, or even a weight-maintenance one. Nope, I am just too lazy to prepare all the food supposedly necessary for my body on any given day. Awhile back, I realized it was far easier to throw a bunch of fruits and vegetables into a blender, press "on," and get my nutrition that way. I am not about to give up this habit, thus, blender shopping.

Several hours later, Corrine and I returned from the mercado laden with groceries. I found the blenders a bit pricey (a decent one costing upwards of $40-$80), although all do come with a one-year warranty, and decided to hold off a bit longer. While my blender-less return was a little disappointing, the short jaunt through the produce section at the mercado was anything but. Each stall had AT LEAST three to four items I couldn't identify, and a number were laden with boxes and bags of spices, dried chilies, and fragrant herbs used for cooking and making tea.

I had my first lychee! For anyone who hasn't seen a lychee outside of the bits they put in bubble tea, let me assure you that they're a pretty ridiculous looking fruit. Small and egg-shaped, the fruits I purchased had the bubbled texture of a raspberry, a color that varied between deep maroon and light peachy-pink, and little soft hair-like spikes protruding from each bubble. Opening them was even more disconcerting; after giving one a good squeeze and twist, juice squirted out and the outside split apart to reveal a white, translucent oval of fruit that conjured up memories of the placenta-like insides of a coconut picked too soon, but even more... well... weird. It was, however, delicious. I ate the entire fruit, including the nut at the center. I took some pictures and will post them another time. It was the most bizarre fruit experience I've ever had.

I'm looking forward to incorporating all of these awesomely weird new fruits and vegetables into my culinary rotation. It's time to start cooking again!

As many of you know, I'm fascinated and intrigued by almost all aspects of Guatemalan history and society. As with most Latin American countries, the US has played a large (often negative and downright reckless) role in the development of Guatemala's current political, social, and economic situation, and continues to do so. Also as with most Latin American countries, I learned next to nothing about Guatemala in school.

This is incredibly unfortunate. The issues plaguing Central and South America affect the US on a daily basis. Tons of military and economic aid is sent to different countries each year to protect "our" interests. Much of this is currently earmarked to fight the 'War on Drugs.' My intellectual goal for the next few months is to wade as best I can through the history of Guatemala, and the history of this issue that's threatening to destabilize the entire region I now (and for the next year, at least) call "home."

I unwittingly decided to make my move down here on a very special year- election year. I was aware that the elections were taking place this year, but the thought had taken such a backseat over the past few months considering the breadth of tasks I had to do to facilitate a move out of the country. As I mentioned on Monday, few Guatemalans hold any hope in the political system, let alone any of the myriad of candidates making illustrious promises to change society, eradicate extreme poverty, and the like.

In any country, election years can be intense and tumultuous. In a country where the government holds more an illusion of control than actual control over the vast majority of the population, the intensity can be frightening. Protests and riots are always possible, and violent crime often increases. This is true in Guatemala City, a city already known for having the highest homicide rate in the Americas. While this can be slightly off-putting, I see it as an incredible opportunity to observe a presidential election in a place where safety and security are not guaranteed; where citizens choose from 22 candidates rather than 2; and where people seem completely indifferent to politicos, yet reportedly lapse into violence over them.

I have a lot to learn about this country.

On a more exciting note, I'll be going into Guatemala City for the first time tomorrow! Outside of landing at the airport and immediately hopping into an Antigua-bound taxi, I've never set foot in Guate (which is what many locals refer to the city as). A friend of Ray's that I met last time I was down is picking me up from Antigua at 9am and taking me around for the day. The city has been such a mystery to me; I've heard so many horror stories, but at the same time, so very many people live and work there, or live in Guate and commute to Antigua for work. I'm really looking forward to seeing it, regardless of public opinion.

Later this evening, I'll be posting about my unexpected visit to Casa Jackson today, and the kids currently there- including a few from my last visit that haven't left yet! I think some of you will be very excited to hear how well they're doing. Also had a chance to speak with Heather, the new coordinator. I've decided to keep my personal and project-related posts separate so that people interested mainly in the kids won't have to sift through all my day-to-day observations and chatter for the family and friends following back home...

Leaving One Home for Another

Cramped in the small seat I should be accustomed to after all the travel I've done the past few years, I drifted in and out of consciousness from Boston to Houston, then Houston to Guatemala City. I've often favored red-eye flights for their low price and high availability, feeling strongly that the resulting fatigue was nothing a few cups of coffee or laughably expensive airport espressos couldn't remedy.

After waiting two hours for the Continental agents to arrive and begin checking passengers in, I made it to my gate at 5:00am. Boarding was surprisingly quick, and I found myself fading as soon as I sat down. The anticipation I usually feel while waiting to take off, the eagerness that keeps me scribbling away in my journal despite the fact that it's barely dawn and I haven't slept nearly enough, was completely overshadowed by the exhaustion I had been pushing aside for the past week. I was feeling burnt out from the physical and emotional toll of moving my life thousands of miles away, but the steady stream of commitments to be kept and loose ends to be tied had kept it all at bay.

Not-so-affectionately nicknamed "Robot Girlfriend" by my previous two boyfriends for my general lack of tears and visible emotion (beyond excited, happy, or irritated), this weekend taxed my mental faculties more than I had expected. Perhaps I gave myself too much credit for being too unshakeable in the face of "regular" events like moving and the like. In retrospect, it seems more that I simply forgot what it was like to feel everyday emotions such as sadness, especially when unrelated to something that my objective mind cannot deny as being "sad." Moving? That doesn't have to be sad. It's exciting! A step forward! A step closer to the work I'm trying so hard to do! Logically speaking, what should be sad about that?!

For every step towards the life I am choosing, I must take a step away from the life I was given. The life I've known for years. The people, places, and things that have always been there, regardless of the configuration or my sentiments regarding their presence. Looking behind me at some of those elements, my pace quickens and my steps get bigger, eager to increase the distance as quickly as possible. Others, not so much. It turns out that the vulnerability that used to plague me, that I thought I had banished, has just been far more selective in expressing itself.

While I will return to the US in a mere nine weeks for my mothers remarriage, this departure was a difficult one. The pattern of go away for a sizeable amount of time, return, kill a few months, and go away again is now turned on its head. Stay here for awhile, visit for a bit, be here for a few months, maybe visit again. IF "home is where your stuff is," after six vacuum-packed bags of clothing and bedding later, Guatemala is indeed now home.

For anyone needing a laugh or perhaps a reminder of my lack of saintliness, I landed in Guate with not just one down comforter, but two (vacuum packed, of course), as well as no less than four different shades of semi-permanent color conditioner. The six pairs of shoes and five bathing suits felt a little excessive as well, but thanks to the miracle of the almighty Space Bag (sponsorship, please?! so much free advertising!) I can rest easy knowing I have footwear and swimwear for ANY occasion.

I kid. But really, those things are incredible. I had no intention of bringing comforters until I realized that the contents of my suitcases were sliding around inside due to all of the extra space. I actually debated with myself for a bit. How can you NOT feel ridiculous arriving to live in a developing country, where so many live on dirt floors, with TWO fluffy soft comforters in your suitcase? Hello, American excess. I guess you win this round...

This past weekend can only be described as a whirwlind. Beginning Friday, it was goodbye after goodbye after goodbye. Some were anticlimactic, some were sweet, some were easy, some were gut-wrenching. Some I knew would be hard, others I didn't quite expect. All of them added to the growing current of weariness I've been battling.

For how drawn-out, mentally and physically tiring, and overwhelming the month leading up to this move has been, the move itself and my arrival in Guatemala has been anything but. Delayed only 15 minutes due to some storms in Houston, I arrived in the city, went through immigration, and retreived my bags without incident. The taxi driver was pleasant, my taxi-mate (a Dutch woman living in the Caribbean and traveling throughout Central America) was friendly, and the drive wasn't a harrowing one. I arrived to Corinne and Charlie's- soon to be AMY'S!- and they helped me bring my bags inside. As I stood there, surrounded by my stuff and two wonderful friends, it hit me- the hard part of moving was over.

I am moved. I am here. I live here now. I have one single place where I will lay my head every night. One place where I will shower and eat and relax and read books. One place that I can call my own. No more of this nomadic life, bouncing around between apartments and family members. I haven't felt like ONE place was truly my own home in so long. I look forward to that, however long it takes.

Not only do I have a home of my own, but I have chosen this home for the proximity to the kids, community, and work that I love so very much. It's an empowering thing to consider... After years of telling myself and others that someday, I would live, work, and help outside of the country, it feels amazing to have taken that step in earnest. I can recall so many moments, sitting in various doctors offices, hearing the same thing over and over: This is a stage. You are seeking something outside of yourself because you are unhappy. You are not a person who will be able to do this sort of thing. Ever.

As of today, as of right now, I haven't done a damn thing yet. I haven't fufillfed the goals I came down here with (obviously). I haven't figured out a way to connect families with the support they want; to educate and empower community members and caregivers to change the lives of the children in their care. But when that plane touched down today laden with me and my two comforters and enough pink hair dye to last a lifetime, I accomplished something I often feared wasn't possible, but resolved to do regardless. Those wheels touched down and as I walked off that runway, a ten-year-long battle I've fought with myself and often those around me finally came to an end.

Are there going to be difficult times ahead? Ciertamente. Am I going to struggle, and cry, and feel absolutely defeated sometimes? Absolutamente. Is it going to stop me, slow me down, or diminish my resolve to fully realize the rest of my dream, the part that isn't about me or what I do, but the kids I've committed myself to?

Not a chance.     :)

OSHP UPDATE

 Several days ago, I received an email from Lesley Pierce at OSHP her with answers to some of the questions I had posed before I left regarding some specific numbers and situations of children typically on the waiting list for residential care. There are currently:

• 44 pediatric resident spaces (42 filled as of 4/28/11)

Of the current children,

• 7 are legally abandoned wards of court
• 4 are not recognized by their families (informally abandoned)
• 31 have families with varying levels of involvement (from bare minimum to frequent contact)

Regarding the waiting list,

• there are generally 10 children on the waiting list per bed in the hospital  (per Lesley, this is drawn from her translation of official hospital documents and not reliable first-hand knowledge)
• Pneumonia is the largest culprit in the death of children with cerebral palsy on the waiting list- both bronchopneumonia (related to an 'illness') AND aspiration pneumonia (common in children who have difficulty swallowing properly, the risk of which can be GREATLY REDUCED using safe, simple, proper feeding practices).

This information pertaining to the waiting list certainly supports the work we'll be doing with the families of children involved at OSHP. If there are in fact 400+ families waiting to bring their children to OSHP, that means there are 400+ children living in the same conditions that warranted their referral to OSHP in the first place. While some of those families may have no interest in receiving any support or education, some families are trying as best they can to care for their child and wishing there was some some sort of help available.

The email I received from Lesley at 7:50pm yesterday is another, sadder testament to the importance of this project.

"Just an update.  Today I learned that one of my at risk patients died at home over the holidays, which further proves to me the need for what you are planning on doing here."

 

It's hard to imagine a place where children languish and pass away in their own homes with their own parents by their sides; where doctors may not visit if other family members have outstanding bills; where a call to 911 is impossible and can not save a child in severe medical distress... 

Guatemala is just one of them.

Alison, Live and in Color!

This video was taken last week (during Jay's visit to Casa Jackson) in the middle of an activity we've been doing for weeks now. Every time I go to Casa Jackson, I prop a handful of the kids up on the mattress in the playroom, read them the Sesame Street board book, "Bubbles, Bubbles!", and then blow bubbles for them and catch bubbles for each child to "Pop!" in turn.

As I mentioned here, Alison has recently begun trying to communicate and interact more. When she arrived at Casa Jackson several weeks ago, she was silent, pensive, and appeared unsettlingly apathetic. Alison is about two years old and weighed just over ten pounds at arrival (in early March). She's (very) slowly but surely gaining weight, and the concerning tremors that accompanied all of her movement before have been fading fast.

There is something "off" about Alison; Sarah, the pediatric PT volunteering at Casa Jackson, and I both agreed on that. Unfortunately, neither of us are doctors, and specialist appointments are hard to come by. Until she has fully recovered from her malnutrition, it is incredibly difficult to tease out what weakness and abnormal movement is related to the malnutrition and what may have pre-dated it. She's incredibly hesitant to reach out and touch anything, despite being very interested and now having the strength and motor ability to do so. She's a "funky" little girl (funky developmentally, that is.

Over the past week and a half, a new Alison has begun to emerge. She is trying so hard to communicate with the few sounds she has; such a welcome change from the complete silence she offered before! In addition to the very soft "puh" sound you see her making in the video (which she began doing as soon as she saw the bubbles!), she now occasionally offers up a little vowel-sound vocalization. Typical of what you may hear from a six or seven month old playing with their voice, but with more intention. She is still hesitant to touch toys, but with some coaxing and hand-over-hand, she can now get past that enough to PLAY for a few minutes at a time, without any help.

Alison is also more engaging with volunteers. Instead of laying in her crib silently and placidly, she now reaches her arms up and does a little wiggle when I approach her crib and speak to her. She display more emotion and frustration when left alone for longer periods of time, and instead of simply sitting back and watching other children play and ignoring the toys put on her lap, she will topple over forwards trying hard to reach someone else's toys that she's got her eye on.

Her motor skills and strength are improving at the same slow pace as her weight. I was able to keep her on her tummy for about five minutes yesterday while (you guessed it!) blowing bubbles. This was by far the longest she's tolerated it, and though it was a real struggle for her to hold herself up with those tiny little arms and weak shoulders, she persisted! She still topples to the front and sides frequently when propped to sit up, but she is now able to lean on one or both arms to hold herself up for a longer period of time before toppling. 

Alison is still incredibly far behind "schedule" in all areas of development. She is two years old, but her communication skills are at about a 3-month level; her gross motor, cognitive, and socio-emotional skills are hovering around the 6-month level; and is somewhere between the 3-6 month level for fine/visual-motor development.

Something as simple and small as a smile, or the slightest effort to put her lips together and make a "puh" sound may seem minute in comparison to the things Alison is "supposed" to do at her age. Her ability to lean on her arms and hold herself up for 15 seconds before toppling over as opposed to 5 seconds may seem negligible in the "grand scheme" of things. But, as I have said a million times and deeply believe, every tiny victory, every scant bit of progress that is fought and won with hard work and persistence by a child who has the deck stacked so high against them, is worth joyously celebrating. 

Today, I celebrate Alison. 

:)

Finally, a Foot in The Door... of Hundreds of Kids With Special Needs' Homes!

Earlier this morning, I dropped in unannounced to Obras Sociales Hermano San Pedro (OSHP) to say hello to the kids and to ask Lesley a few questions. There were a number of other volunteers and staff people around, but no Lesley. I asked a friendly-looking older woman if Lesley was available. Lesley was not, but Pat introduced herself and asked me what I needed.

I'm unsure why I gave as much detail as I did in my answer, but I explained that I had met Lesley two weeks ago and was in the process of developing some community/family-based support for the kids and wanted to speak with Lesley a bit further.

Pat informed me that she works closely with Dick (who I have heard of numerous times). Dick is probably the largest provider of wheelchairs in Guatemala. Every person I've spoken with who works with disability issues down here mentions Dick at some point. Pat is a special educator (who actually contracted in Early Intervention back at home in Nebraska) and is currently focusing on developing and teaching children how to communicate using very basic picture systems. She works with the children at OSHP, both on the ward and in their small malnutrition unit, and also does a significant amount of work in a village about 20 minutes outside of Antigua where a small school for children with disabilities is located.

I gave Pat the breakdown of my background, my experience, and the goals I have for my return to Guatemala. We discussed the need for better family education and support, especially in the rural areas, and how good, consistent help is lacking down here. Pat shared that in her experience, most of these families absolutely adore their children; the attitudes she encountered years ago when beginning her own work have been gradually changing. These families love their children and are doing the best they can with the scant, if any, support they receive in learning how to care for them.

To meet another person so devoted and committed to advocating and serving children with special needs was, as always, a great comfort and thrill to me. To meet another person who has years of experience doing it in Guatemala and has, figuratively AND literally, a foot in the door of so many homes of children with special needs living in them, was one of the most exciting things to happen over the past month.

Pat and Dick know hundreds of children with special needs in rural communities all over Guatemala. They know what the children's strengths and needs are; they know their families; they know the unique challenges to working with each family. On top of that, they are already going to these homes. Not only will we benefit from their existing knowledge of children and families all over the community who need support, but we also benefit from having potential partners to travel to these communities with.

It's incredible to me how wonderfully this is all coming together, even at this early stage. The individuals I've met who are working so hard to serve these children are gracious and open to working with any other individuals who can help them serve the children better. I'm honored that all of these "seasoned veterans" are welcoming my efforts so openly; that they're so willing to share the networks and systems they use to identify and serve these children, and include me in them so readily.

As this trip winds down, I can't help but be amazed at the incredible opportunities that have presented themselves. When I returned to Antigua in March, my intention was to research and understand all of the ways that I could work with Casa Jackson and Nuestros Ahijados to improve care for children with special needs that were somehow involved in their programs. I intended to find the kids and figure out a way to reach them. It was to be a partnership, but would essentially involve starting a program for children with special needs from the ground-up, around the existing services offered by CJ/ANA.

The work I will be doing when I return in July is shaping up to be very different from what I envisioned only a month ago. The volunteer and staff education I will be providing at Casa Jackson is valuable and I'm excited to do it. The family/community support and education I'll have the opportunity to coordinate and provide is, without a doubt, the epitome of what I hoped to someday be able to do here. I imagined it would take me much longer to establish contacts; to reach out to the local communities and find the kids and families desiring help; to determine the logistics of actually making contact with and visiting specific children and families.

Instead of spending my first several months here just laying that foundation, I am now able to return to these fledgling partnerships, nurture and grow them, and help children and their families sooner and more effectively. I have let go of my obsessive need to hammer out ALL of the details before I leave. The nature of this effort is such that the needs are going to change frequently, and so are the best solutions to meet those needs. The most productive use of my time right now is to get the organization officially established; complete the proposals, projected budget, and information needed to start soliciting funds; and to prepare myself as a clinician for the wonderful, incredible, unique challenges that are going to await me when I return in July.


After having my head immersed in this for several months, I often need to pause for a moment and put it in the most basic terms so that I can appreciate it. Sort of "see the forest through the trees." Yes, we have a number of specific components to the project that will do A, B, and C. We have a mission statement and objectives and a plan.

But do you know what we're doing?

In a country where NO system exists to provide medical care or education to any child, let alone one with special needs; in a country where, if parents want "the best" for their disabled child, they must send him or her away; in a culture which places such value on family ties but offers NO support to parents trying to maintain those despite their child's needs-

we get to help.

We get to visit mothers, fathers, and their children at home. To see the way most children with special needs are living. To have a chance to understand the different challenges faced by each child and family and help them overcome them. To give these parents a voice and the knowledge that they may not be educated, they may not be rich- but they are still that child's parents. If a mother's heart breaks at the thought of being apart from her child; if she wants to care for her special child that she loves so much, she deserves to be supported in that decision.

We get to help parents and caregivers understand simple ways to minimize the amount of physical pain a child may experience due to a physical disability; to help children and their parents communicate and thus connect, regardless of whether or not a child can speak; to help parents understand how to involve the child in his or her own life in more meaningful ways.

To be able to do this at all is a privilege and an honor.

To be able to do this so early in my life, alongside other individuals who have also made this mission the focus of their lives, is a dream.

The Magic of Everyday Moments (And Gazillion Bubbles)

Alison, Sandra, and Esvin sat propped up on blankets in the playroom. As I read the book to them, the words surely becoming familiar by now (“Bubbles, bubbles, on my NOSE. Bubbles, bubbles, on my TOES. Bubbles, bubbles, in my HAIR, bubbles, bubbles, EVERYWHERE...”), Jay blew streams of bubbles over them. Sandra smiled and opened her mouth wide, letting out an “Aoohh,” or “buh” from time to time. Esvin giggled. 

Alison, for the first time since I arrived at Casa Jackson on March 22nd, showed clear excitement, began to squirm around and reach forward, and put her lips together and said softly, “puh- puh- pppuhhh!” Alison was anticipating what came next- the “Pop, pop, pop” of the bubbles. Every time we read this book, I blow a stream of bubbles and, one-by-one, catch a bubble and hold the wand to each of them and help them reach out to pop it

This little girl, twenty-four-months old, FINALLY made a sound. She made a real effort to communicate, a real functional attempt at interacting and requesting and being a part of playtime rather than a spectator. Twenty minutes later, during music play, she began to smile slightly as I helped her tap the jingly bells. 

It was a wonderful day.

With any “helping profession,” there are inevitably times where you feel that what you are doing does not matter; that you are deluding yourself regarding the importance and value of your own mission.

In a country/community so awash with non-profits, NGOs, cultural exchanges, Spanish schools, and the gringos that follow, it’s hard to fight your own prejudices and cynicism about the well-intentioned, naive, unintentionally self-serving efforts of some gringo non-profits. Some are started and run by young adults (check), many by young adult Americans (check and check). All are started and run with the best, most earnest intentions (check, check, AND check).

There are hundreds of programs providing education to youth; providing healthcare to expectant mothers and reproductive care to all women; building homes for impoverished families; feeding the hungry. There are programs housing the disabled and destitute; there are homeless shelters; there are programs providing pumps for clean water and solar panels for electricity.

Why Guatemala? One has to wonder what about this country is so compelling that it serves as such fertile breeding ground for these young projects and their young “visionaries.” Guatemala is not the most impoverished country in the Western hemisphere. It is one of the most violent, with murder and violent crime rates higher throughout the height of the most recent Iraq war than in Iraq itself; Malnutrition is rampant due to a combination of poverty and lack of education, but again- it is nots “the worst.” 

I can only extrapolate my own theories from my own experiences, which are small and slowly building. There is something about Guatemala for sure; an unseen, unnameable magnetism that draws visitors in. Every foreigner in Guatemala is someone or knows someone who intended only to visit for a few days, and years later, has yet to pull themselves away. In many of these places, the weather is dream-like (save for the rainy season), the people can be lovely, the pace is pleasantly slower, and the food is delicious and inexpensive. 

Without delving too far into my own cynicism, which has grown exponentially over the years despite a continued commitment to do exactly that which I view skeptically when other gringos do it, I will say this: it is an easy country to love. Save for the areas where there are semi-bustling tourist hotspots and the pushy touts and sneaky children that come with such settings, and save for the “chh-chh-chh” sound that men use to call dogs AND women, much of the country is filled with smiling, friendly women wearing their colorful skirts, shirts, and sashes, children with deep brown eyes and chubby cheeks, and scores of enthusiastic, chatty teenagers and young adults. 

It is also an easy country to start “helping” in. The market may be saturated with organizations, church groups, and backpackers trying to save the world, but rather than make this more difficult, it almost seems to make it easier. Networking in Antigua occurs at the same consistent pace as in Los Angeles, but rather than exchanging cards and information about bands, photographers, promoters, and artists, in Antigua, there is a constant exchange of information regarding various education, healthcare, and humanitarian projects operating in the city. 

And somehow, despite the inundation, there are still people that aren’t reached by the many hands outstretched to them. There are still families that are hungry, still families living in dirt shacks, still children picking through garbage at the dump, and countless other families eking out countless difficult existences. 

In the midst of this dichotomy that sometimes exists, this Gringo Heaven/Guatemalan Hell, I have come to make my home. To put my heart and soul into something the way so many others have, or have tried to. And I do still struggle with my own concerns about whether all of these gringos are helping or hurting, somehow, in some small way.

I don’t have a background in business or finance. I have a surprising amount of business and financial common sense (surprising because I lack “common sense” in some other fundamental ways), and have spent enough time traveling, researching, and hungrily devouring all of the information I could find about international humanitarian aid and efforts to know more than the average bear about the challenges and pitfalls of direct community aid. 

In any business venture, for-profit or not, it helps to have a “niche.” A specialty or focus that is slightly different than all of the others. Special S.T.A.R.s has children with special needs, and a focus on working IN the community, WITH the children’s families.

There are organizations serving children with special needs, but most provide residental care for children rather than working to support the exceptional parents who want to care for their own children. It seems that they sometimes focus on bringing children the BEST possible therapeutic care, rather than the best possible life. By bringing the support to the families that want it, and telling them, “YOU are capable of giving your child a happy, safe, comfortable life. YOU are worthy of loving and caring for your child in your own home. YOU, not the foreigners, not the wealthy philanthropist and his staff, deserve the right to keep your child in your home, if that is what you want. YOU ARE GOOD ENOUGH.”

While the direct therapy and support isn’t exactly my mission; while I feel the community-oriented support is more important and a more worthwhile investment of time, days like yesterday serve to remind me that every single moment truly does matter. Every minute spent loving and stimulating and encouraging a child, every morning that you sit children up and sing to them and play with them in view of their nurses and parents, every small effort that doesn’t measure up to the grand ideas you had for what you COULD do, it all counts.

Since returning to Casa Jackson, and with the passing of the past few weeks, I have seen fewer and fewer children laying on their backs in their cribs all day. I have sat alongside mothers holding their children, watching me sing and play to another child, and had the quiet delight of hearing them begin to sing the same song and repeat the same words in the same tone to their own child, after seeing the smiles and laughter of the child I’m playing with. I have seen a little girl smile for the first time in weeks.

Maybe we are just a bunch of naive kids trying to make our mark; to do the impossible; to fight our own fears and feelings of helplessness in a world that is so far beyond saving. 

But maybe, just maybe, it does matter. 

And you know what? I’ll take the small changes, and the big possibilities. 

“Maybe” is enough for me.