When the door to the first house
of fourteen orphanage homes opened, a boy appeared while the stench of urine
and feces enveloped us. We did all we could not to step back and cover
our faces. I clenched my teeth hard and reminded myself that this was
about making these children feel good about themselves.
"Mi llamo Caroline, come se
llama?”, he said. This is the most
Spanish I knew the first day.
Touring though some the homes, we
saw filthy walls peeling with layers of paint, showing the years and years of
re-paint after re-paint. The ceilings mimicked that of a leopard’s skin
with brown splotches scattered throughout. Each child had a single metal
bed, with a thin concaved mattress and a few small belongings, nothing of value
or age appropriate. The rooms were sparse and made me wonder what these
children had done at such young age to be imprisoned until18. It resembled what
I have seen on TV or movies for prisoners. The many spider webs and red
ants seemed to be integrated within in these homes, as if they belonged
as well. They owned no toys. Each home had a “Mama”, surprisingly
her room was filled with many treasures and stuffed to the brink. How could the
children walk past here room each day and not feel for a moment they had
been dealt the wrong set of cards. The air seemed heavy, I heard only
crying of babies, the grounds were lifeless and our hearts so heavy.
The orphanage has around 150
children, ages 18 months to 18 years. These children will never have the
opportunity to be adopted due to the atrocious level of sex trafficking in
Costa Rica. There is also the problem of children being stolen and used
for the selling of their organs to other countries.
The first little girl who entered
our play area was less than 2 feet tall, probably weighed 35 pounds and was 5
years old. She jumped into my lap when I sat down. Although at first I thought
this was normal, the director said it is not often the children become so close
to the volunteers as they know they come and go. When I was leaving, she pulled
me back and screamed "ALTO." I said I had to go. She kicked me
with her foot and ran off. It made me so sad that I had touched someone so deeply
but that at the end I was no different than the other adults that had let
her down throughout her short life. I played- soccer with
all the kids, and we got our behinds kicked.
