TheBanyanTree: The Afternoon Kids

[apmartin at canada.com]

The Afternoon Children

Every afternoon around 4:00 pm, flocks of children
gather outside Casa Audi’s high metal gates and ring
the bell, anxious to get in.  The playground here has a
trampoline, swings, slides, a zip line and much more;
the neighborhood kids love it. There are no landscaped
parks in this barrio (suburb), only narrow, dusty
roads, an abundance of dilapidated brick structures and
windswept vacant lots cluttered with litter. When the
children aren’t playing at Casa Ayuda, they play on the
street.  

I hoped to incorporate ‘manualidades’ (handicrafts) and
rompecabezas (puzzles) into the afternoon program for
the children who were interested. Before leaving
Canada, I printed several fun projects from the
internet and soon after my arrival spoke to Victor and
Alicia about my ideas. They just looked at me and
didn’t comment.  I found them hard to read and didn’t
understand why they weren’t more enthusiastic,
especially since I would be providing all the
materials.  At the end of the conversation I felt
deflated.

My objective as a volunteer at Casa Ayuda was to help
bolster the live-in and afternoon children’s
self-confidence by encouraging them to try new things,
validating their achievements and offering affection to
those who wanted it.  The first English word I taught
the live-in boys was ‘hug’.  To my surprise, when I
embraced them I discovered they did not know how. Their
eyes lit up but they were as stiff as boards and unsure
how to do it.  Although these boys receive the
necessities of food, shelter and minimal education (an
hour of home-schooling a day), I noticed that neither
Victor nor Alicia showed them affection.  The boys
worked hard most of the day:  they cleaned house, raked
the yard, did the heavy work for the vegetable program
and performed countless other jobs that Victor asked
them to do.  Theirs was a life of eat, sleep, work with
almost no time for fun and no one to love them.

My first day on the playground, I decided to supervise
only and get to know the children.  When I opened the
gate, the children surrounded me.  I introduced myself
and asked their names.  Louisa, a cute five-year-old
with dancing brown eyes and an engaging smile was among
them.  When I told Louisa that I was ‘la espousa de
Andres’ (Andrew’s wife), she said in Spanish, “You’re
Andrew’s wife?  But he is so ugly.” 

“And me?” I asked, curious to hear her response.   

She said, “Estas feo tambien. (You’re ugly too.)”  

This girl is one of a family of five hard-to-handle
children ages 3 to 15 who regularly attend the
playground.  One afternoon before I arrived, Louisa
pelted Andrew with rotten fruit from the compost heap
and incited several others joined in.  The children
thought it was a big joke but Andrew was very
disheartened.  He had taken an unpaid year off work to
volunteer and questioned what he was doing there.  

Later, Victor told me more about this family.  Their
mother is a prostitute in the USA and he believes each
child has a different father.  The children live with
their grandparents who do not send them to school or
adequately care for them.  Four other families live
with them in a tiny house across the street.  These
children are always begging for fruit from the
vegetable program.  Fruit the average North American
would throw away, like a dried up apple with rotten
spots on it, is like treasure to them.   

Stephanie, a thirteen-year-old from this family, is
crippled.  Her upper body is normal but her legs are
useless twigs.  She is incontinent and often smells of
feces.  Every day she arrives on a rusty wheelchair
with flat tires but she won’t let anyone other than her
sisters or cousins help her get around.  Before I
arrived, Andrew showed her that she could join the
other children on the trampoline. Now, she pulls
herself up onto it (she has very strong arms) and sits
cross-legged while the others jump.  It’s wonderful to
see her laughing and having fun. She is the only one of
the five who doesn’t frequently misbehave.   

Xavier, a three-year-old boy from the same family
arrived in dirty clothes.  He is cute but incredibly
strong-willed.  For no apparent reason, he kicked
Andrew from of me but it wasn’t long before I was able
to pick him up and carry him around.

Some children, I felt especially drawn to.  Esmeralda,
a well-mannered girl of about eleven, linked arms with
me, dark eyes glistening and tried so hard to please. 
I wished she were mine.  Mariela another little cutie
with a sweet disposition chattered away non-stop even
though I can’t understand half of what she said.  
  
On my second day, I decided to bring out the puzzles I
had brought with me from Canada, whether or not Victor
and Alicia thought they were a good idea.  I set up
some child-size tables and chairs in the playground. 
When the children arrived I said, “Tengo rombecabezas. 
Qui quiere jugar? (I have puzzles.  Who wants to play?”)

Some twenty five children stampeded toward me.  The
children loved working on puzzles but they had no
manners and showed little respect.  Most, I’m sure, had
never been taught.  They’re tough little kids.  They
grabbed the puzzles out of my hands without a please or
thank you.  There were ten puzzles and twenty children
clamoring and fighting for them at the same time.  Most
of the children wanted help.  All of them shouted for
my attention at the same time.  “Tengo solo dos manos,
(I only have two hands)” I said.  It took a lot of
energy to maintain any sort of order.   After three
hours, I was exhausted.  Something had to change.

The next time I saw Victor, I asked if he minded if I
disciplined the children and tried to instill them with
some manners.  He was all for it.    

One of the hardest rules to enforce in the playground
is the ‘three only on the trampoline’ rule.  The
children won’t get off when it is time for the next
three.  I now tell them if they don’t listen, they
won’t be allowed in the following day; it seems to be
working.  Another rule I can´t enforce is the ‘no
swearing’ rule.  I don’t know any palabras malas (bad
words) in Spanish.  When I am on my own, I’m sure some
children are swearing because of the snickers, but I
can’t discipline them because I don’t know what they
are saying.

Casa Ayuda has one small classroom.  After a few
exhausting days with the puzzles, I decided the
children who wanted to do them would come with me to
the classroom; the others could play in the playground.
 That way, I could limit the number of children and
control them better.  If they misbehaved they would
have to leave.

The next day, I unlocked the front gate.  As the
children entered, I told them those who wanted to do
puzzles would be working in the classroom with me, but
there were going to be rules.  I chose only ten
children and told the others they could have a turn
later.  It went very well.  I worked on teaching them
to say please and thank you.   By the end of the
evening, I felt as if I had accomplished something.  

The following day, I was up for a challenge and took in
twelve children including some of the known ‘naughty
children’.  Jessica, one of the infamous family of
five, was one of them.  When she began to misbehave, I
sent her outside.  She refused to leave and began
shouting at me. I physically led her outside and closed
the door.  She peered in the window and began shouting,
“Gringa! Gringa! Gringa!” at the top of her lungs.  A
few of her friends joined her.  After a few minutes, I
had enough.  Andrew was with me and I said, “That’s it.
 They need to learn respect.”

When I told them to leave the grounds, they took off
running.  Andrew and I spent a few minutes rounding
them up, escorting them to the gate and locking them
out.  I believe we made a good start on teaching them
respect.

Every day at Casa Ayuda, there are new challenges,
however, I can’t help but compare this situation to my
experiences in Guatemala.  There is so much more need
there.  There I felt I was making a difference; here in
Mexico, I'm not sure.  Andrew feels the same way. 
Likely, we will be 'heading back to Guatemala in 3 or 4
weeks.