We were working with Hospitals of Hope. It's a Christian medical mission organization with a fully functional Hospital in Anocoraire, Boliva. They also have part-time clinics in Haiti and Liberia. My duties were mostly limited to maintenance and repair of the guesthouse. There was a long list of what I called "man-duties" awaiting our arrival. (I prefer "man-duties" to their calling it "non-medical and somewhat menial tasks.") So as I would cut the grass and fix the internet, Tara would go to clinics at schools and orphanages with other nurses and doctors. They would do check-ups on kids and treat all the ailments they could.
However, one day a week our duties would converge. We would go into Cochabamba and work with the city's homeless, glue-sniffing population of Plaza San Sebastian. These guys are pretty gnarly. They rob, steal, stab and terrorize the citizens of Cochabamba and, thus, most Bolivians have turned their back on them. In fact it goes beyond turning their back on them. The citizens actually beat and attack the glue-sniffers. The police tend to use them for nightstick practice. In fact, one day Tara & Co. treated a girl who had been terribly beaten by the police. Nobody is certain of why, but she had broken ribs, a bruised, bleeding and swollen face, and was barely able to walk. Add that onto her life as an underage-prostitute and, well, it's an unspeakably bad situation.
Most of the glue-sniffers here have run away from abusive homes. There are some who enjoy the homeless life of robbing and getting high. Others were simply born into it. They are usually refused medical treatment at hospitals (though it's illegal) so our visits seemed to help a bit.
Their current home in the plaza is essentially a giant toilet, filled with garbage, stray dogs, toddlers and the glue-sniffers themselves. The smell of human waste is only surpassed by that of the glue fumes. You get lightheaded if you're sitting in a group of them. Once I saw a gentleman run off over by some flowers, dig a hole, and bury a plastic bag filled with soup. Another time we saw the police come in, grab a kid, shove him into the trunk of their car and drive off. Tara and I once had a 30-minute conversation with three glue-sniffers about the various qualities of current and past WWF wrestlers. We see frequent visits from local gangsters coming to pay the glue-sniffers for whatever crimes they were hired to do. 
Once Tara was treating a 1" deep by 4" long cut on a woman's arm. Tara asked, "What happened?" The woman responded, "He cut me," referring to her 20-year younger boyfriend who was sitting next to her, seemingly quite concerned with her horrible wound. Ironically, this is the norm. Most of their wounds were caused by those closest to them.This one guy has a broken leg and is using crutches. One night, his buddies beat him up with said crutches and broke his arm. The next day they are helping him get food. The lifestyle is somewhat of an oxymoron.
Everyone living here is absolutely covered in ridiculous scars. One dude has a 12" pentagram carved into his torso. The pentagram seems to be crossed out with yet more scars. Most men have multiple 6" scars on their faces and necks.
The women have it especially rough. They will try their best to partner up with one of the guys in the hopes avoiding being ganged up on. I guess being with one violent person is better than 10? And the prettier girls confusingly seem to sustain even more trauma through their work as prostitutes.
My role was pretty much that of "male presence" with the mostly-female Hospitals of Hope workforce. I would just chit-chat with some of the dudes and get some of their stories. They were usually pretty high, but every now and then they would seem to have a moment of clarity and just break down crying. This happened multiple times. It's very difficult to understand what they must be going though. Seeing this place once or twice a week just boggles the mind as to how terrible their home-lives must have been.
Are they a product of their environment? The bulk of society down here calls them animals. Are they treated like animals because they act as such? Or is it vice versa? Do they act like "animals" as a result of their treatment? To what degree does society's interaction with these people affect their actions? I can't quantify an answer, but what I do know is that we were loving and kind to them and they treated us with nothing but respect and courtesy. And sure, we were holding an egg sandwich and a B12 shot, but human to human interaction resulted in just that. They are humans. They are often treated badly. They often behave badly. And yet, they often behave nicely. Sound familiar? It's a story any human can relate to.
During this time, we've become very good friends with two nurses working with Hospitals of Hope, Rachel and Shelly. They are going to start working full time with the glue-sniffers. They've got an ambulance to run a clinic out of and to be a sort of "glue-free zone." Hopefully, by being a daily presence in these people's lives and building stronger relationships with them, their message of hope and change will sink in. There are options and resources available these guys, they just need to make a choice to live outside the comfort zone of their friends, family, and protectors in the plaza.
Most die on the streets before they're 30. But some do move into a shelter and learn a trade. More often than not it's temporary, but sometimes its permanent. Some souls are even saved. The volunteers aren't going anywhere and as they forge stronger relationships, perhaps their promise of a safer, healthier, more comfortable life will be better understood. Perhaps things will get better. Perhaps...
No comments:
Post a Comment