It's the hard-knock life...

Before graduating from Purdue last December I found myself being asked on a daily basis about my plans for the future.   When I told people that my post-college plans did not include getting a job nor applying for graduate school, but that I was instead going to go live in an orphanage in Peru ("No, not Peru, Indiana, Peru the country, as in South America"), I got a lot of different responses.  I remember a couple of friends cracking some innocent jokes about the grimness of orphanage life, as popularized by Oliver Twist ("Please, sir, can I have some more?") and the musical Annie, in which the orphan girls sing, "It's the hard-knock life for us, No one cares for you a smidge, When you're in an orphanage..."  

Jokes like those were easy to laugh off since I knew that those lyrics couldn't be farther from the truth when it came to life at Hogar de Esperanza.  Afterall, the children here live in a fun and safe environment, they have access to health care, and they receive a relatively good education (complete with native English teachers!).  They are surrounded by many people who love them, and there is certainly no shortage of food here.  In fact, Luz and Filomena, our two full-time cooks, are amazing chefs who make far too many giant, delicious Peruvian meals to let any of us go hungry. 

Lately a couple of the other volunteers and I have been getting increasingly irritated by some of the kids who constantly complain about things like having to do homework or not getting enough time to play on the internet, because we all know that it only takes a short walk (or micro-bus ride) around the outskirts of Trujillo to see that the kids at the albergue are actually much better off than a great deal of their peers, who have to eat of trash cans, work on the street, and may never get the opportunity to go to school.

However, in light of that recent holiday that is always over-advertised by florists and greeting card companies, I have been made painfully aware this month that despite all of the wonderful possessions, opportunities, and relationships that the children have here at the albergue, there is still one thing they will always be missing that is infinitely more important than the rest: the presence of their mother.  

I think that we far too often get caught up in our own daily work routines and making sure the children behave, get their homework done, take their baths, do their chores, have fun on the playground, etc., that we forget how difficult and far from "normal" life really is for each and every one of these kids living away from their parents. It really and truly is a hard-knock life.

I don't know if it's just me or if there's an actual difference in cultures, but "Dia de la Madre" (Mothers' Day) seems to be a much bigger deal here in Peru than it is at home.  It's been all over the local radio and television, and for two weeks now the kids have been reading and talking about mothers in school, doing countless art projects for and about their moms, making gifts for them, and practicing musical and theatrical numbers to perform them.  Even here at the orphanage we had a Mothers' Day program this Saturday to honor the four madre tutoras, as well all of the Hogar de Esperanza staff members who are real mothers.  Basically, there was just no escaping the holiday. 

On Friday afternoon, Colegio Betania had their Dia de la Madre program and a lot of the kids from the albergue were performing in it, so Elizabeth and I went over to the school to watch the show and help the four madre tutoras (house moms) support the kids.   Each of the classes at Betania, from "Inicial" (4 & 5-year-olds) to the oldest group of adolescents, had been practicing for weeks to perform skits, songs, dances, or poems, all in honor of their mothers. 

Enrique, Piero, & Fernando waiting for the show to start

Isabel, Larisa, Cristina, Jennifer, Piero,

Paul, Abraham, and Elizabeth watching the show

Marita and Camila ribbon dancing with their class

Cristina and her partner were doing so

 well until he got tired of dancing,

ducked under the table, and ran off the stage

before the song ended. She was NOT happy.

Paul with his pretty little dance partner

Pablo is one talented 4-year-old!

Chilling with Aldair and Abraham

Eduardo and Dante ready for their skit

At the end of one of the songs, a teacher passed around a microphone and had each child find their mother in the audience and say "Feliz Dia, Mama."  I wanted to cry each time the mic landed on one of our kids and they had to say in front of everyone, "Feliz Dia, Tia (Insert house mom's name)."  Out of all the kids from the albergue who were performing, not one of their real parents came, even though some of them have family members who live here in town and visit on weekends.  Although I think it's great for the children to celebrate their madre tutoras since they do work very hard to show the kids love and support every single day, I still struggle with the question of WHY these kids had to spend so much time practicing songs and making presents for someone who (for whatever reason) isn't even there, and  in almost all cases, is the source of great pain?  

Most people I know would define the word "mother" as a strong and self-less woman who protects, cares for, nurtures, provides for, and unconditionally loves her child. These are all definitely character traits to be  praised and admired.  By this definition, a mother is comparable to the super hero you can always count on to save the day, or the friend you can always lean on.  I must have been incredibly blessed because all of the women I grew up around--in particular my mom, my aunt, and my grandmother--perfectly fit this description. 

But most of these children's biological mothers (at least those who are still alive) are in fact quite the opposite.  Some are women who abandoned their children, neglected them, allowed them to be abused, or chose to put drugs, alcohol, men, or other selfish needs before the needs of their children.  Are these traits that we should be teaching the kids to honor and respect? 

One of the American volunteers who teaches at Betania told me a story about how 7-year-old Brigitte got in trouble at school with her teacher after she ripped up one of her homework assignments.  The assignment was to "draw a picture of you and your mom."  (Brigitte was dropped off at the orphanage when she was 3 months old and has lived here ever since.  This is a girl who mentioned to one of the other volunteers last week that she still believes the only reason she came to the albergue was because she cried too much as a baby.)  I can't say I blame her one bit for tearing up that paper.  I would have done the same, if not worse, if my first grade teacher forced me to dedicate an entire holiday to someone who I only saw for a couple hours a few times a month at MOST, like the house cleaner, the bus driver, or the mailman.  Wouldn't you?

 I was so proud of all of our Betania kids for singing, dancing, and acting in the Mothers' Day program with the rest of the kids from their classes, even if it was hard for them to do so.  I know that they appreciated us coming to the show and enjoyed having us there, but I still wish there had been more of us there to give those kids the support they deserve.  They worked hard to put on a very cute show, and I feel very honored to have gotten to see it.  Wherever their mothers are, they're certainly missing out.