Just Call Me Tia

My first day at the orphanage was on Tuesday. Patricio (the man who forgot me at the airport) came to my house to show me the way - a good 2 hours late....are we seeing a pattern here?People describe him as ¨Loco¨, nice but I think there is a screw or two loose. Anyway, a 20 minute walk later, I arrived, being the good student I am, with all my supplies - Play-Doh, Crayola Crayons, markers, colored pencils, etc.

I met the program leader, Maria, who briefly filled me in on the orphanage´s background. The building is literally a home for many women and children, with an offsite home where the men stay. Maria, herself, was once involved in drugs and this organization reached out to her, rehabilitated her and now, I believe she runs the Quito office. Maria said there are three different types of people who I would be encountering over the next month - orphans, what they call ¨street kids¨ and their parents, who, like Maria, were homeless and taken in by the orphanage, and kids coming from low income families who can´t afford to send them to a regular school in Quito. At the site, women live in a communal living space and help maintain the orphanage by day - working in the kitchen, sewing clothes and school uniforms for the kids, as well as general maintenance. If the women have children, they attend school or if they are between the ages of 1-3, they go to daycare. Volunteers, about 10 in total at the moment, help as needed. Many of the teachers in the school had already been assigned volunteers to help in their classroom. My first thought - please do not tell me they need help in the kitchen. Of course I would do it if needed, but it was going to be a mental challenge each day to get over my phobia of sponges and dirty dish rags. Maria doesn´t assign me to the kitchen...phew! She instead asks me to be in charge of the daycare. Say hello to your new teacher, los niños pequeños!

How hard could this be, right? At their age, the language barrier wouldn´t be as difficult and when she says ¨in charge¨, she doesn´t possibly mean I am the only one taking care of the kids for the 8:00 - 12:30 shift. She shows me to the ¨new space¨ they have created for the children and tells me a few will be arriving shortly. I look around and the space is about the size of an average bedroom, cement walls with some cartoon type drawings on them, and a box of toys, which contains a few bouncy balls, trucks, and dolls. Outside is a yard of sorts with a broken playset and a single swing that is actually functioning. Hmm...I don´t have a lot of experience taking care of kids, but this doesn´t seem like much to keep them busy for 4 1/2 hours.

Over the next 30 minutes or so, my door kept opening and one-by-one, a new little girl or boy, with an adult´s hand pushing their toosh through the door, would enter the room. Some took one look at me and starting crying. Now, standing in front of me, are 8 girls and boys in total. The youngest being 1 and the oldest probably around 5 (why he was not in school, I am not sure, but didn´t attempt to ask in my Spanglish). I don´t think that is a legal ratio back in the States - 8 to 1? After the `back Alison into a corner and kick balls at her´ game got old, we went outside to run off some of this energy.

I was told, ¨the weather in Quito is like the women of Quito - always changing¨(ha ha). It is sunny one minute and raining the next. As the playset was broken, I quickly became the jungle gym. One kid at a time, sometimes two at once, would climb up my legs and into my arms. From the rain, the grass and dirt is a muddy mess and now, I am wearing that muddy mess. I openly admit, I have never been one with dirt, but after about 1 minute of trying to strategically place their shoes and wiping the mud off, I gave up. With each new kid around my waist, don´t think for a second I didn´t check each of the parts in their hair to see if there were any creepy crawlers. Nope, we all look good to go and I soon relaxed. That is until a little girl climbed up on the cement wall and stuck her little body through the iron fence and was half way over the ledge of a 2 story drop off. Good thing the word ¨no¨ is the same in English and Spanish. Running and screaming ¨No, No, No¨ she was pulled down and we were going back inside.

Oh goody, paint and paper arrived while we were outside enjoying ourselves. To all you mothers out there, what is the appropriate age to start bringing out activities like paint? My guess is not before the age of 3. Paint was everywhere except on the paper and the water bowls were soon dumped all over the floor. Resources are limited, so I grabbed a mop from the kitchen and used my package of kleenex to try and clean up the mess. We were back to bouncy balls.

I am about to conclude my first week at the orphanage. The kids call me ¨Tia¨. At first, I would try and correct them, saying my name was Alison, thinking to myself, how does one even make Tia out of Alison? Until a ¨Tio¨ came in, I didn´t realize it means Aunt or is sometimes used for teacher. So, just call me Tia and I will answer. 

These kids have nothing. Most have lost their teeth or are starting to as a result of there being no money for dental care nor is there a priority for hygiene. Before the daycare room was prepared for the kids, I was told they would all just wander around the building unsupervised, volunteers stepping in when they saw one of them unchaperoned. Most don´t have mothers or fathers and so who knows what kind of attention and love they receive throughout the day. However, I am realizing these kids don´t want you to cry for them. They don´t realize the toys they are missing out on as they don´t know any different. They just want your attention, love, and to be held. So the next time I feel like crying, I am going to grab the kid nearest to me and we are going to hug it out.

So sorry, this is already such a long post, but I want to share photos of a few of the tots. 

Keeping it real in Quito - Al. 

This is Samuel (aka Tank). The kid is about as dense as a meatloaf dinner. Weighs a ton!

Meet Anna. I think she and I would have been good friends. She is quiet as a mouse, just observing and playing quietly. She is my best sharer (ok, that may have not been me as a kid).

Rosita, me, Carmen and Tank

This is the painting, kickball, and daycare room. 

The broken swing set and yard in which the kids play in. 

This is the orphanage, the bottom room with the sliding glass door is the daycare.