Snapshots of Chaos

Have you ever seen Daddy Day Care? Or Cheaper by the Dozen? Or any movie where you have a whole bunch of kids running around wild, harassing each other incessantly, and destroying everything set in their path? If so, you’ve seen a pretty accurate picture of what I experience every day at Fundacion Cor. Here are some snapshots of the chaos…

Through the Front  Door

Not five seconds after walking in on my first day, there are two kids on my lap and five or six all around me asking about a million questions: What’s your name? Joshy? Yosi? Jorshi? Where are you from? The United States? Wow! Do you know any famous people? Have you met Obama? Did you know Michael Jackson? Were you there when the planes hit New York on September 11th? Did you know anyone that died? Have you ever been to Disney World? Were you squished like a sardine on the airplane? Are you rich? It's impossible to answer their questions because as soon as I begin to reply, someone asks another.

At the same time, three other kids are snooping through my backpack, several are fighting, and two are “petting” my hair. By petting, I mean that they are raking their fingers through it and ripping it out whenever they get to a piece that doesn’t cooperate. Yep, I’ll be wearing my hair up from now on. And hopefully becoming significantly better at multitasking.

Painting? Really?!?

I’m not sure why I thought painting would be a good idea. I haven’t even gotten the paint out, and paint brushes are flying across the room. But it’s too late to turn back now. Daniel is too excited. So I hand each of the four kids a cup of paint and prepare for a long morning. Within seconds, Mia’s paper is on the floor, her hands are covered in red paint, and she’s screaming. Furious for no apparent reason, she rubs her hands all over her face, and one of the caretakers drags her out of the room. The other three seem fairly content for the moment. Then I notice that Alexis is not painting his piece of paper. He’s painting the table. I scold him and hand his paper back. It seems to work. For about five seconds. Then Soana imitates his behavior and it goes downhill from there. After about 30 minutes, there is more paint on the table, chairs, windows, walls, clothes, and faces of the kids then there is on the paper. They’ve dumped out the cups of paint, thrown their papers face down on the floor, and ignored every single thing I have told them to do. But Alexis is laughing and Daniel can’t stop grinning. So I hand them each a different color of paint and just hope that the women don’t get too mad over the mess we’ve made.

   

Let Me OUT!

I wonder for the hundredth time why no one thought it would be a good idea to replace the knob on the bathroom door. I mean, it seems like a pretty easy fix, and it would be quite worth it to avoid situations like this one. I’m locked in the bathroom and have been here for about 10 minutes. Plus, it’s not just any bathroom. It’s pretty much the grossest bathroom EVER! It’s used by 20 kids, only half of which are potty trained, there is a kiddy potty in here that never gets emptied, and sometimes the youngest kids come in and play with whatever they find inside. It’s disgusting. So tell me please why they haven’t fixed the doorknob! It would be great if we could actually close the door to keep the kids out and then open it again when we need to use it. But nope, they haven’t fixed the door and probably never will, so here I am, trapped hopelessly inside. Yes, I’ve knocked and banged on the door and yelled for help, but the only ones close enough to hear me are the kids, and they probably think it’s funny. I’ve called the office on my cell phone and screamed through the keyhole, but it seems that I will be here for quite a while. Finally, just before I pass out from trying to hold my breath (you’ve probably guessed that it smells TERRIBLE), the door opens. Thank you JESUS.

To Have a Family

Warning: Taking a turn for the serious. I promise for another lighthearted one next, though.

Not all the kids that live here are orphans. They're here for various reasons. Lots are sick. Some have AIDS, two have leg braces, and a few have been abandoned or abused. I don’t know their individual situations. It’s confidential. Maybe that’s a good thing. I can be one of the few people that treats them like normal kids.

Sometimes a parent or relative will come to visit a child.  As I look out the window, Daniel is out on the porch with his parents and grandmother. It is really sweet to see them interact..sad, but nice that they get to share at least some time together. Dani looks so happy in his mother’s arms. I can’t help but wonder what happened to this family that they can’t all live together.

But at least Daniel has a family to visit him. Much worse is watching Alexis and Camila. They both lean against the window, faces pressed to the glass, watching Daniel and surely wondering what it must be like to have a family.


Devil Child
I’ve never met a kid that I didn't like. Until Silvia. Obviously some kids are nicer or cuter or more fun than others, but Silvia gives the term “devil child” a whole new meaning. Bad kids don’t phase me. When I was in Peru, it was the trouble maker of the group that cried the most when I left. But Silvia is a piece of work. My last interaction with her was when she tried to go upstairs. The younger kids aren’t allowed, so I picked her up to carry her back down. She grabbed a chunk of my hair and didn’t let go. When she started screaming, I began to lose my cool. As I tried to pry her fingers off my ponytail, I scolded her in Spanish. Finally setting her down, she kicked me and then tried to throw a chair at me (still screaming). I guess this is a good opportunity to practice loving those who hate you. I think I’m gonna need some divine help with this one…


JAILBREAK!

Tamara is the sweetest baby EVER. She’s cute as a button (actually much cuter than a button, I’ve never thought buttons were particularly cute), and she NEVER cries. Not when the other kids push her stroller around or when they get way up in her face or when they take things from out of her hands. It’s pretty much a miracle, too, because with everything else going on, I think a crying baby would take this chaos to the breaking point.

I am reflecting on all of these things when I notice the silence. Soana is playing quietly in the corner while Daniel, Mia, Carina, and Alexis are in the kitchen. But why are they being so quiet? I put Tamara in the stroller and go to check the kitchen. It is empty. I let out a squeal of panic as I spot them out in the yard. How did they escape? I dash outside, grab Alexis, and drag him back in. But of course, as I bring him in, Soana runs out. Oh dear. I feel like a dog catcher as I attempt to round up the kids. Finally, I drag in two at once and Carina comes in on her own. Yes! I go out to grab the last two. But this time, the door is shut. And locked. Thank you, Carina (in case you can't hear it, my tone is sarcastic at this point). Self locking doors seem to really be an issue here. Tamara, of course, chooses this moment to cry for the first time ever, but I have to ignore her as I dig through the box of keys. It’s a big container with about 50 keys of different shapes and sizes, none of which seem to work on the back door. I scream at Mia and Alexis to come over towards the kitchen, but they ignore me. Finally, Mari comes to the rescue. I’m not sure where she was before, but I’m glad she’s here now. Whew. Crisis averted.

Well, those are the highlights of my first two week’s adventures at Fundacion Cor. I’m sure there will be many more. I’ll keep you posted.

Oh, and one last thing. The kids call me “Ma.” I wish they wouldn’t. It’s going to make things harder later. But like I said before, it’s too early to talk about leaving. Right now, I’ve just gotta love’em like the mothers they don’t have. Cause it’s worth it (“And if anyone gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones because he is my disciple, I tell you the truth, he will certainly not lose his reward.” Mat 10:42).