The One About the Kids

I am sure you are all aware that my time here in Buena Esperanza is closing in, about 2 more months to go. With that comes a lot of emotions. I am sure some of you are anticipating a blog post titled “The One about What’s Next” to be published in the near future. But not quite yet, you are just going to have to wait. There are still some posts I want to get in about my time here, before I start thinking, or I should say writing, about the future (I have been thinking about it for along time)

As the days pass, I realize more and more exactly what it is I am going to miss about Buena Esperanza. The list is long but when it comes down to it there is one thing I am going to miss far beyond anything else, the kids.

Not many jobs could compete with being a rural Peace Corp volunteer for the amount of daily hours we spend with children of all ages. They are a seemingly constant presence in my daily life in Buena Esperanza. Even as I write this, I am sitting in my hammock on my porch, it is 6:36 pm nearly sundown and there are 5 children sitting on my stairs, 3 children standing behind me starring at the computer screen, another 4 kids flipping through magazines on the ground around me, and then at least 15 plus kids playing soccer right next to my house, the ball occasionally (but not accidentally) hitting my zinc roof, making all of us jump, and them to giggle. This is the norm here, the kids are around from literally sunrise when they arrive to go to school, to sundown when they return the soccer ball, jump rope, harmonica, or book they borrowed.

If you don’t like kids, you should never ever be a Peace Corps volunteer in a rural community; in a community where contraception is not the norm, or against their religion, in a community where large families are the parents’ only form of social security. In these communities the kids crave attention, they all come from very large families and are longing to be noticed, recognized and to feel special. Sometimes, just remembering their name accomplishes that, or looking them in the eye and saying good morning, and if you really want to make their day, you should see their faces light up when you tell them they did a “good job” at something. And their longing for physical contact is evident when they all rush to hold our hand when you are walking.

But even though the kids are one of many, and they come from “poor” families, I would argue that their life really does challenge any life that money could buy for a child (except for the education and sanitation part) I have never seen kids as happy as the ones here. They are free to run and play with whatever they can find. Whether they are out in their little boats fishing or swimming, or out in the farm with their parents learning how to swing a machete, the kids always seem to be happy, with boundless energy. They are selfless because they have to be, they don’t complain about anything, they will eat whatever you give them, and most of them do not even know the word “bored.” They play baseball with a homemade ball made out of a clump of plastic bags tided together with rubber bands and their favorite pastime is a game including plastic bottle tops. They all love going to school, often arriving an hour early for class.

The family unit is very important here as well. They all live in very small humble homes, often sleeping all together on the floor. There are only a handful of parents who are absent from the home due to work, and most importantly, no one is ever alone, ever (except for Meti). I recently heard a statistic from a recent American father with a 9-5 job. He was so excited about the birth of his new son, that he dreaded having to spend so much time away from him at work. The new father did some basic math and discovered that throughout the 18 years of his child’s adolescences, he will be lucky to get even 4 years worth of time with him. That is not the case here. Families here are together for a lifetime.

Even though the kids here have this care free childhood, they still have to grow up a lot faster than the children in a developed country. They are given many household responsibilities at a very young age. And it seems to me that once they hit a certain age, they understand what this word “poor” means. A word their parents have been saying for years but they never really understood. I think once they understand that word, all the sudden fun is taken out of a lot of things and their life all the sudden gets a bit darker. Now they have to fish just to feed the family, or they have to go out to work the machete because “no hay plata” (there is no money) to buy food. Working on the farm, is not as fun if your parents are telling you that it is a direct byproduct of being poor, either is playing with that plastic bag ball for that matter.

Don’t get me wrong, I still love the kids even when they get to the age where they constantly ask me for things or money and tell me they are poor and there is no food and they are hungry. But it is when they are still so young and innocent and care free. These are the kids I am going to miss the most.

I have found myself nearly in tears lately when I am having a basic conversation with a little one, and I start thinking about how I am going to have to leave them soon. I know they would think I was crazy if I start crying in the middle of them telling a story about a crab that was running around in their house in the morning, so for their sake I maintain my composure.

Awhile ago, a woman in my artisan group asked me if I would ever take a Ngobe baby back to the states with me. I told her that we were not allowed to. She responded with “ok but if you find a baby in the trail when you were walking though … then you have to take care of it right?” The truth is I would love to take all of the kids home with me. But I know I can’t and to be honest, I could not say with complete certainty that life would be that much better for them back in the states.

So the question is: how am I going to leave these kids? They have brought so much joy to my life. Their smiles are contagious and their complete innocence gives hope to their generation. I try to tell them how lucky they are, and what a beautiful life they have, and they are not poor at all. Why dose “poor” need to be measured in monetary terms anyways. I think this word poor needs to be re-branded in Buena Esperanza! Let’s starting talking about who is happy, who is smiling the most, who has the most free time to spend with their family, or maybe even who has the largest variety of bananas, I don’t know. But what I do know is that these kids do have a lot to be smiling about, and they constantly remind me that so do I.

=)

Meti