TheBanyanTree: Volunteering in Mexico

[apmartin at canada.com]

Thought I would share my husband, Andrew's story about
our experiences in Mexico which pretty much tells it
like it is.

...Pat


A day in the life of Casa Ayuda, Mexico.

To enjoy living in Mexico one needs to learn to relax
and not take minor 
annoyances seriously, to use the word manana properly,
and to start thinking 
like a Mexican.

It is 7:30 a.m. and the sound of my alarm going off
wakes me from my 
slumbers. The early morning sun is already streaming
in, heralding the start 
of another perfect Mexican day. The birds chirp merrily
in the trees and 
there is a gentle rustle of leaves in the light breeze.

Other than that the house is still quiet, so quiet that
I wonder if any of 
the boys have escaped again. Oh well, if it happens
we’ll deal with it. No 
point in worrying. I can’t even hear the sound of Ari
(2) crying which means 
that Gil (9) is probably not yet up.

Compared to Canada, life here seems to proceed at a
very lazy pace. Although 
there is always plenty to do, pretty much everything
seems to be put off 
until manana (tomorrow or beyond) whenever possible.

Life here can be a challenge at times, but for the most
part it is really 
rewarding work. My main focus with the kids in the
orphanage is to teach 
them a bit of carpentry and mostly it has been a
success. Two of the 
orphans, Veto and Natcho, are very proud of the items I
helped them make, 
and it’s a sense of pride I doubt they would ever have
experienced in their 
life, if not for my efforts.

I never expected that it would be easy, working with
kids rescued off the 
streets of Queretano, a nearby city, but I never
realized that it would be 
this difficult. Some of these kids have never known a
life other than on the 
street, and still behave almost like wild animals. It
takes years to undo 
the damage of neglect and teach them simple things like
learning to eat with 
a knife and fork instead of their hands, not to spit on
the floor in the 
living room, and to learn that anything that they find
lying around the 
house is not automatically theirs to play with or break.

Pat and I arrived with a somewhat idealistic vision of
working with these 
kids to stimulate their creativity, teach some basic
skills like using 
carpentry tools, fill some of their needs to feel
valued and loved, and help 
them catch up with their schoolwork for the years of
schooling they have 
missed. It has been deflating to realize that this is
an impossible dream.

Natcho for example is eleven and can recite numbers
like a memorized poem, 
but after almost a year here, still has no concept of
how to use a tape 
measure to measure out two inches. I can help him drill
four holes in a 
piece of wood, show him a 1 inch screw and then hold up
four fingers and ask 
him to go and get me four screws. He will come back
with two 3 inch screws 
and a 4 inch nail. Our “carpentry” still consists of me
holding the hand 
drill for him while he turns the handle. I guess there
is some reward in 
developing the feeling of pride he feels in getting
even that right, but on 
a larger level, the realities of our progress are a
disappointment.

Schoolwork for Natcho and Veto is often little more
than underling all the 
b’s the can find on a page of the bible, and they will
spend hours trying to 
find them. But despite the fact that Veto’s cognitive
skills are missing, he 
doesn’t for instance know a “b” from a “d”, he seems to
have a good memory.  
He looked at my T shirt the other day and read out the
word Canada. It’s 
mind boggling that he can often read words in a book as
entities, and yet 
can’t seem to associate the letters of the alphabet
with the words. He too 
can recite numbers but doesn’t understand the concept
of what they mean, or 
the concept of adding them together.

Gil is 9 and seems to have normal intelligence, but is
still at a grade one 
level because he runs away from school all the time.
He’s apparently even 
been taken away in handcuffs by the police but I’ll get
to that.

Things at Casa Ayuda  have been going steadily downhill
since we first 
arrived. Some of the new kids, fresh off the streets,
make Natcho look 
refined. Casa Ayuda also seems to be running
desperately short of money.

Anyway, 7:30 and time to get up and try to light the
hot water tank for our 
morning shower. This is always a challenge because the
propane lines are 
full of rust particles, so I have to go up on the roof
and lie on my stomach 
to fiddle with the lines until I can get the pilot
light going.

But oh, I forgot, there’s no point in doing it this
morning because the 
house has no water.
I guess Pat and I will be going without a shower again
today. But what are a 
few minor inconveniences. This is Mexico.

Alicia said that the water pump was broken and they
didn’t have money to buy 
the pieces to fix it.

I asked Victor yesterday and he said he was going to
have another look at it 
“manana”, but you never know with Victor. He is always
so busy scurrying 
around trying to keep the place going that he never
seems to have the time 
to tell me the full story. In Mexico manana sometimes
means that it has been 
assigned a priority somewhat higher than never, but it
does sometimes in 
fact mean first thing tomorrow morning.

Victor spent most of yesterday afternoon working with
Carmelo laying paving 
blocks, so  I wondered if the pump was getting any
priority. I asked if he 
wanted me to have a look at it. However, between
Victor’s English and my 
Spanish, communication on technical matters tends to be
frustrating. When he 
answered that I’d better not because it might still be
under warranty, I let 
it go at that. Maybe it was an easier explanation than
telling me that the 
windings were still wet because one of the kids had
peed on it, or maybe 
that friend of his was bringing over another pump to
try manana, and he was 
too embarrassed to tell me that it was probably manana
some time next week.

Alicia doesn’t seem particularly concerned about the
nearly overflowing 
toilets and mountain of dirty dishes piling up in the
kitchen that are being 
left for manana for the umpteenth time. She is such a
nice person and so 
easygoing that she just takes everything in her stride.

I just hope that rats don’t get into the kitchen again.
Even Alicia seemed a 
bit perturbed the last time that happened.

Actually I’m not sure there is any propane left either.
Yesterday morning we 
ran out and Victor and Alicia said that they had no
money for more. We ended 
up phoning for  propane and I ended up buying them $30
worth. I guess that 
was just before they cut off the phone because they
don’t have any money to 
pay the phone bill.

However, Victor thinks that that has already all leaked
away because he 
found Natcho working on the propane system
unsupervised. Since Natcho is 
intellectually about three years old in the body of an
eleven-year-old, I’m 
not sure what damage he did loosening the fittings with
the chisel and 
crescent wrench he stole out of my toolbox.

Pat says that one of Natcho’s problems, and the reason
that he is so 
naughty, is that he doesn’t get enough positives. We
both agree that Natcho 
doesn’t even understand enough to know that he is being
naughty.  I guess 
that includes his behavior of trying to grope any
female he comes into 
contact with, including Pat. Apparently that was the
reason that the social 
worker from DIF (the department of family integration
and development) took 
the smaller girls away from Casa Ayuda last year.

Natcho likes to “fix” things by turning every screw,
knob or dial in sight, 
and there is generally no requirement that they be
broken before he gives 
them some attention. The last time the power went out
he noticed that the 
toaster wasn’t working and he “fixed” it using a pair
of scissors and a 
chisel. It had to be thrown out in case he tried to
plug the repaired 
version in on a live circuit.

Pat said she smelled a lot of Propane when she took
some water out for Oso 
the golden lab. He is a big boisterous dog but has
never been trained and 
therefore likes to nip, so he is tied up all day. His
general behaviour is 
about on par with Cristian.

Actually,  Carmelo who is a nice kid of around 14 told
Pat he had already 
taken some water out to Oso, but I was surprised she
believed him. Except 
for the fact that he beats up Natcho and the small boys
all the time, he is 
a nice kid. However, we also know well that telling the
truth is not one of 
his strong points.

On the positive side, at least we still have electrical
power, but I have a 
feeling we are on borrowed time. Unless Pat or I give
Victor and Alicia some 
money to pay the bill, and insist that they do it
rather than putting it off 
to manana,  it is pretty much inevitable that we will
be cut off again.

It would be a lot safer if the electrical system was
cut off altogether, but 
I’ve resorted to turning a blind eye to the hazards. I
am getting quite 
spoilt being able turn on an electric light at will, as
opposed to my 
time-consuming daily fight with the propane hot water
tank.

The electrical service drop comes in to a main fuse
disconnect switch which 
has no   cover, and is full of leaves and debris. The
switch is mounted with 
the handle tight against a wall but it can probably be
operated if you don’t 
mind scraping your knuckles or using a piece of wood.
However, you really 
don’t need to operate the switch to change fuses
because there aren’t any, 
unless you count the copper jumpers.  The main circuits
for the house seem 
OK but the outside lights, which are run using bare
wires stapled to the 
walls, are fed by paralleling them directly off the
main switch terminals.

Natcho will probably fix it all up a bit when he is
tall enough to reach the 
wires.

Believe it or not it seems quite typical of the wiring
practices around 
here. Pat says I can’t expect things to meet the
Canadian Electrical Code so 
it makes me feel better about turning a blind eye.

Anyway, back to my day. Well, breakfast was interesting
because they had no 
money for milk, so Pat and I had black coffee and the
kids had some drink 
brewed with cinnamon. Pat says I should have bought
them some milk, but 
every time I do, no matter how much I buy, it
disappears in about 20 seconds 
flat so I only do it from time to time. Most days there
are a dozen or more 
people at the table, depending mainly on which of the
kids have decided to 
run away on any particular day, or which ones, like
Laura who is 16,  have 
been taken away by DIF but have run back from wherever
they are supposed to 
be.

Laura is a lovely, very attractive girl, big and
strong, and quite mature 
for her age. I’m sure that she has put all of the boys
into their place more 
than a few times, and in my opinion, contrary to what
DIF seems to think, is 
quite capable of protecting herself against Natcho, so
I don’t know why they 
don’t just let her live here if that is where she wants
to be.

DIF seems to run a lot of interference around here.
They shut down the 
daycare here last year because of insufficient lighting
and a range of small 
items such as no handrails on the stairs, and are also
continually moving 
kids around between facilities. I would have been more
worried about the 
open electrical wiring.

Anyway, as always there was plenty of the stale bread,
jam, salsa, caramel 
spread and peanut butter so today everyone ate
heartily. Pat and I had 
stocked up the cupboards the week before so there was a
bit better than 
usual variety.

I’m not sure how Alicia managed to provide clean
looking plates without 
water, although thinking about it, they do have enough
crockery to keep 
going for a while. Two years ago they had 26 orphans
living here. However I 
was pretty certain that the way the kids licked their
fingers to clean them 
provided a good clue as to the origins of the clean
looking knife that 
Carmelo was balancing on top of the jam jar.

Since there is no running water anywhere in the house,
including the 
toilets, I wonder how the kids kept themselves clean.
Victor gives the whole 
family parasite pills every few months as a
“preventative measure”. I can 
see why. Pat and I stocked up on some for ourselves too.

The coffee this morning had a rather a peculiar taste
and god knows where 
the water for that came from. I noticed Pat looking at
the half full bucket 
of water that the dog drinks from with some unease, but
I decided that it 
was better not to ask.

Victor said that he had found the keys that had
disappeared from the hook on
his bedroom wall that everyone had been hunting for, so
he was able to use 
the truck to go to work, without the hotwiring job he
had resorted to the 
day before. Pat is right, I need to give the kids the
benefit of the doubt 
more often. I had automatically assumed that the wires
hanging out of the 
steering column of the truck were Natcho’s handiwork.

Apparently Gil, one of the new boys, a cute little kid
with a few behaviour 
problems that need to be worked on, had stolen the key.
It was an honest 
mistake because he thought he was stealing the key to
the main gate, so that 
he and his little brother, Cristian could escape again.
Apparently these two 
kids have considerable experience at doing B and E’s,
so getting the key off 
the wall of Victor and Alicia’s bedroom would have been
a snap.

I noticed this morning that someone had torn the screen
out of one of the 
windows of our bedroom and had obviously done a B and E
on us too. Whoever 
it was obviously couldn’t reach the top shelf where
most of our important 
things were kept, and had elected to steal items of
little value like pens 
and pencils, some of which were later found in Gil’s
backpack. It is 
nevertheless a worry considering we keep a lot of
valuables like our 
passports, some Canadian and US cash, and our credit
cards in our room.

Anyway, I thought it was a priority to try to wire the
window permanently 
shut, but Pat, who has been here long enough to start
sounding like the 
Mexicans, figured that I might as well put it off to
manana. She figured 
that whoever it was obviously couldn’t reach the top
shelf. So why worry 
about it, at least until Gil’s older brother gets here?

Pat also says that just because it happened just after
Cristian arrived, and 
he is the only one small enough to fit through the
window, and short enough 
not to be able to reach the shelf, that I should not
automatically assume 
that it was him. Everyone deserves the benefit of the
doubt and the chance 
to be loved, and I shouldn’t do anything unless I have
proof.

I’m not so sure though. The circumstantial evidence is
quite strong. Victor 
says the police know Gil and Cristian, and their skill
at B and E work, 
well, and have branded them delinquents. But
apparently, compared to their 
older brother, who we haven’t yet had the pleasure of
meeting, they are 
little angels.

Gil and Cristian are new kids at Casa Ayuda and Victor
asked Pat and me this 
morning if we would look after them while he and Alicia
went to work.  Gil 
is 9 and Cristian is 6 so how hard could it be?  I
really didn’t think it 
would be much of a problem as long as we kept them
separated and didn’t let 
them out of our sight.

I took Gil to the carpentry area to see if I could get
him interested in 
using a hand saw and a block plane. He did show some
interest in my tools, 
especially the hammer which made interesting sounds as
he tried to smash the 
hinges off the toolbox. He also liked the jar of
finishing nails, which he 
grabbed and emptied over the floor before taking off.

Pat seemed to do better with Cristian, although it
seemed that they had 
decided to focus on P.E. rather than educational
activities. Cristian took 
off within seconds of Victor leaving and Pat never did
manage to catch him, 
although we both got occasional glimpses of him
overturning Oso’s water, or 
shouting insults from the roof.

Maybe Pat is right, I should have given Carmelo the
benefit of the doubt 
when he said he had given Oso water. I eventually
caught Cristian for Pat, 
but after that all he would do was howl.

By the time Victor and the other boys got back,
Cristian was fast asleep in 
bed, exhausted  from keeping Pat entertained. Pat’s bag
full of toys and 
creative activities that she had planned to do with
Cristian were spread 
over the table, untouched. Anyway, sounding like the
Mexicans I told her 
that she would have another chance to do creative
things with him manana.

By this time Natcho was up on the roof screaming
insults at the nuns who 
live next door. Gil had found and stolen all of the
candy for an upcoming 
party that Alicia kept in the freezer compartment of
the fridge, and 
scattered them around the garden.

A little later Gil and Cristian were found in the
process of locking Ari, 
who is 2 into a junk fridge. I thought it was a bit
dangerous but it does 
have a magnetic latch making it possible to open the
door from the inside.  
I suggested to Victor that we take the door off, but he
didn’t seem to think 
it was a priority, and he is probably right. My mind
keeps going back to the 
water pump, and the state of the electrical wiring.

Perhaps I should have got Gil to do it for me. He seems
to have a knack for 
removing hinges with a hammer.

Anyway, by now I was ravenous and Pat and I tried to
sneak out to get some 
roasted chicken. Despite her near empty fridge, Alicia
usually manages to 
come up with something tasty for Comida (late afternoon
lunch) but Pat and I 
find it too long a wait between breakfast, often at
9:00 a.m. and often 
consisting of only bread and coffee,  and Comida which
is  normally at 
around 3:30.

However, one of the other kids, Veto, spotted us
leaving and wanted to come 
too. He is a really nice kid, about six year old kid in
the body of a 19 
year old but is so sincere that it was hard to say no.
Despite his mental 
age he was smart enough, and probably hungry enough for
some chicken, to 
recognize our con job of “we’re only taking the dog for
a walk” for what it 
was. I guess that living with Carmelo has given Veto a
bit of experience at 
knowing when he is being lied to.

Anyway we ended up taking Veto along, and then buying
enough food to bring 
back for the whole family. Our costs are really piling
up helping out with 
meals, groceries, gas for the vehicle, propane etc.,
but oh well, at least 
for one meal everyone got a decent amount of  protein
instead of mainly 
bread. The telephone bill, money to get the pump fixed,
and the electricity 
bill are all all looming.

Lydia, a neighbor who gives us a private Spanish lesson
every afternoon 
never showed up again today. A couple of days ago she
sent over one of her 
kids to tell us she was sick but would be resume the
lessons manana. I guess 
we have now figured out what she meant. The Spanish
manana means tomorrow 
but the Mexican manana often means the same thing,
without any implied sense 
of urgency.

Anyway, Lydia is really nice, and a very good teacher,
so we feel she is 
worth the wait. Maybe manana.

The later afternoon was more typical of an afternoon at
Casa Ayuda, and 
other than some minor mishaps, Pat and I had an
enjoyable time supervising 
the 25 or so kids at the drop in afternoon daycare. Pat
is really good at 
getting them interested in some creative things, and I
do a pretty good job 
at keeping them from killing each other.

The kids were actually relatively well behaved and we
didn’t have to kick 
anyone out, except for Armando (14?), but that doesn’t
count because we have 
to do that every day. Even Gil seemed to want to join
in the activities for 
a while, although he has a 5 second attention span, and
soon resorted to 
beating up Stephanie, the little (11?) year old girl in
the wheelchair, who 
actually put up a pretty valiant fight until we
intervened.

Stephanie didn’t do so well a few minutes later against
Ari, who was 
obviously rested up from his nap in the fridge. He is
only two, but used his 
advantage of surprise and managed to draw blood with
his fingernails.

Carmelo, who was standing right next to Stephanie says
he didn’t see 
anything and didn’t know who had attacked who, with
such a straight face 
that for I once I almost believed him.

I would have kicked Gil out but it’s pretty hard
because he lives here, and 
our focus is still on trying to keep him in. It had
only been a couple of 
days since he and Cristian had run away previously,
were spotted quite a few 
miles away by a neighbor, and Pat and Victor had to go
and catch them and 
bring them back.

I also lent my basketball to some of the older kids who
kicked it over the 
fence as soon as I wasn’t looking, and came to me later
complaining that the 
neighbor wouldn’t give it back. I had to take my
chances with the snarling 
dogs and go and knock on the neighbor’s door myself,
and he told me he was 
sick and tired of the kids shouting abuse at him over
the fence. That’s when 
the ringleader Armando came up behind me and opened his
mouth to continue 
the insults. Armando’s swear word vocabulary is a lot
bigger than mine but I 
heard enough to get the picture. That was the reason
that he got kicked out 
again that day, although the daily reason he gets
kicked out seem to blur in 
my mind after a while. Pat says that except for his
behavior he is a really 
nice kid.

Anyway, by bedtime Pat and I were both, as usual,
exhausted.

I must admit that I sometimes wonder why I am here, and
whether I am really 
making any real difference with these kids. Not a day
goes by when I wonder 
whether I should just pack it in and call it quits. But
then I see Pat 
playing creative games and giving English lessons to
some of the kids in the 
afternoon. Kids that sit on her knee and give her hugs
that a few weeks ago 
would be more likely to be hurling insults and rotten
tomatoes from a safe 
distance. And, I sneak up to the dormitory to say
goodnight to the kids at 
bedtime, and they turn into these little angels and
look at me with 
adoration and respect. Somehow the frustrations of the
day just seem to melt 
away into insignificance.

What are a few minor annoyances anyway. This is Mexico.

So day after day we decide to give it one more try. I’m
sure that things 
will go a little better manana.  Like I said, you need
to start thinking 
like a Mexican to really enjoy life in Mexico.