Translator=Connector
On Wednesday we traveled to orphanages with the group that is here for the week. We started out at Amor y Vida, an orphanage for children with HIV. The kids are so sweet and it really is a wonderful place. The Presbyterian group had spent time in the church at home learning how to make balloon animals, and they busted out their skills for the kids, who loved it. Even though my balloon dogs looked ridiculous, the older kids liked learning how to make them, and the younger kids loved stomping on them. I also colored with a boy named Manuel and one of the women from the church, helping translate as well. I always love using my Spanish, but being able to translate and facilitate a connection between two people is that much more rewarding.
For lunch we went to the centro of San Pedro Sula, the second-largest city, to eat our PB&J and drink juice and bagged water. My group decided we wanted some shade and something cool, so we went on a search for (what else?) ice cream. We found a great stand with a really nice lady, and bought our fill. She even accomodated my request for granita de cafe (coffee slushie) with ice cream. I also helped negotiate a purchase of team-Honduras soccer jerseys, bargaining them down from $10 each to $9 (what can I say, I'm not that hard).
After lunch, we headed to Nueva Esperanza, the state-run orphanage. Before entering, we thoroughly warned the group about taking everything out of their pockets and leaving backpacks on the bus. When we first got in, we went to the baby room, where all the kids want to be picked up, and cry if you put them down. There are about thirty kids in two connected rooms, and many share cribs. I played ball with an adorable two-year old with a mean soccer kick. Then, it was time to go downstairs and do arts and crafts. The activity went well except for when one older girl got a paint marker (from who, I have no idea). She started marking everyone’s arms and clothes, and when I tried to reason with her to get it, she got this hard look on her face and punched me away. Some of the volunteers were getting worried, too, since she was specifically targeting this one young girl and her mom, and there was literally nothing to be done. I told the girl and her mom they could go outside, and luckily she lost interest (after one saintly volunteer got the marker away from her, but not before she started throwing rocks at people.) You start to see why there is such a high turnover of staff, because I could have asked them for help, but what can they do?
I played with a little guy until it was time to go, and then I saw the girl again, still sans marker. She wanted me to play a hand game with her, and I told her sure, I liked playing with her, when she was being kind. Then, the sweet volunteer came over once again, and gave the girl a huge hug, and asked me to tell her to be good. I translated, and then she continued to talk. She said that she wanted the girl to know that she was a beautiful person, and that God loved her. I continued to translate. Then she said that even after she leaves, she will be thinking of the girl, and that she loved her very much. This girl who had been terrorizing another young volunteer earlier was now perfectly still, enveloped in this kind woman’s hug and words. The woman then left, and I asked the girl if she had understood what I had said. She said yes, and then ran after the volunteer and wrapped her arms around her. It was so beautiful for me to see, and I could tell that the woman and the girl had affected each other’s lives, even if just in that moment.
When we arrived at home, we showered and got our standard dinner—baleadas. Those rice and beans and tortilla will never get old after a long day in Honduras.
