Maize Fields

The corn was thick in the air as we walked up to Amigos' maize field. Like a display of fireworks, the ears hit their peak and gradually descended, each at a different moment.

It was harvesting day for Amigos' maize (corn) and all the jovenes, or teenaged, boys at the hogar had been enlisted to help. The 20 of them worked their way in a pack up and down the field, a row at a time. The dried out ears had to be pulled off and then catapulted to the nearest of several large piles that had been cleared out in the midst of the stalks. In nearly two acres of corn there were five or six piles, and that's why the corn flew through the sky at such a great height. It's also why, despite the heat, several of the boys seemed to be enjoying themselves.

 

Maize is what we gringos know as yellow corn, several months later. At the point where sweet corn would be ready to harvest, the stalks are doubled over and allowed to dry out for several more weeks. Once harvested, the hard, dry maize kernels are ready to be ground into the flour that constitutes the tortillas eaten at every meal - two tortillas a person, breakfast, lunch and dinner. The maize we harvested that day, in grains, weighed 4,500 pounds, enough for six months worth of tortillas here at the hogar.

 

Beginning at 8 a.m., the boys and other employees of Amigos' agricultural program, Agro as it's referred to here, were at work pulling the brown, crinkly maize cobs off of doubled-over, waist-high stalks. The sun was fiercely strong by 9 a.m. and the work is best done in long pants and sleeves, since the dried stalks are prickly and scratchy, sometimes dangerously sharp, and lots of creatures (read snakes) like to live in the field. 

It's unsurprising that among the-high schoolers, there were those who didn't relish the hard work. What's more surprising is that some of them did. When I asked one of them why, he said throwing the ears the distance to the piles was fun, and that he liked seeing how far he could throw. Then he gave a reason I didn't expect. He said he also liked walking from plant to plant, pulling the corn off the stalks. To me, a first-time maize harvester, this seemed like the least fun part of the job. My legs and arms were scratched and itchy and I was constantly worried about what insect I would see next crawling out of a corn ear. Sweat was pouring down my face and I had a bloody gash on one hand from an especially sharp stalk. Harvesting maize is brutally hard work and that's the daily reality for many Honduran farmers, one that really struck me in the field. But this kid also saw the beauty in the process. He was able, even in a long-sleeved shirt drenched in sweat, to appreciate the kind of satisfaction harvesting your own food can bring.

Amigos uses about eight acres of farmland. Currently the hogar produces all its own milk, chicken, maize, and beans. Beans will be planted next in the same field as the maize. There are two harvests a year for both crops and each plant replenishes the soil for the next in a beautiful, ageless cycle. The boys at the hogar who work in the agro program are learning about a crop and a cycle that has been a staple in the lives of Hondurans for generations. I learned a saying in my first week here that is catchy in Spanish: Sin maíz, no hay país, which basically translates to, the country falls apart without maize.

We walked back from the field dehydrated and exhausted, at least I was, but also on a strange sort of high, the kind that comes from doing a hard job through to the end. The boys were making whooping noises for no reason, giddily laughing. The tortillas at lunch that day didn't taste quite the same.

 

A Brigade Vists Amigos de Jesus

This past August, Amigos de Jesus was visited - for the first time in its existence - by a medical brigade that was able to give every child and staff member a medical exam.

Amigos de Jesus has not hosted a brigade to the Hogar before and everyone was excited to welcome in the group of medics from Summit in Honduras. The personnel from the brigade were likewise excited for this opportunity. Altogether they brought two medical doctors, two medical students, an EMT and a translator.

“We like to bring small groups of medical staff so we can get to know those we serve and they can get to know us,” said Maggie Ducayet, founder of Summit in Honduras and organizer of the brigade.

Ducayet founded Summit in Honduras nine years ago after she went on a different mission trip nearby. In discussing more about her involvement within Honduras and why she continues to do this type of work, Ducayet revealed just how important their trips are to the local communities.

“An entire village became dependent on the once a year trip we did and I saw a need for more,” said Ducayet. “I scout out different people in the U.S. who are willing and able to help with different brigades.”  

Ducayet met Emily Ford, United States director of Amigos de Jesus, at an event in the United States. Ducayet who travels to Honduras around four times a year with different brigades wanted to visit the Hogar as soon as she found out about it and says that she was pleased to have the opportunity to meet the children.

“This has been amazing,” Dycayet said. “I knew we had to come here after I had heard about Amigos de Jesus.”

In the course of the day, all 91 children at the Hogar were seen by a doctor. Staff members were also encouraged to get exams and many seized the opportunity. A number of the children were nervous, having so limited experience with doctors, but each waited patiently for their chance to be seen and relaxed when they realized there would be no shots.

 

When asked how the exam went, one child responded, “facil!” (easy!)

“It’s really amazing what they’re doing,” said Wilson Escoto director of Amigos de Jesus. “They could come to us and we didn’t have to worry about taking all of our kids to a medical office, which was great.”

As an added bonus, the group of medical staff returned the following morning to teach the Amigos de Jesus staff members’ basic first aid care. In addition to this they gave the Hogar four kits of first aid supplies to have on hand in case of injury.

 

Check out some of the photos from the day!

 

 

 

A Prayer for Peace

To walk in to the Amigos de Jesús chapel yesterday between 11:00am and noon, it would have been difficult to believe it was full of some 25 teenaged boys and two girls, anywhere from 13 to 22 years old. You would have found the capilla in reverent silence, save for the church music serving as a background to the kids' meditations. The Amigos de Jesús family was answering Pope Francis' request for prayers for peace.

The capilla at Amigos is the second floor of the office building and it is open air. All four sides have a concrete rail and through it you can see the mountains in the distance and overlook the rest of the Amigos campus. The service began with Amy, our co-director, explaining what was happening in Syria; that it is locked in a civil war, that there is destruction everywhere, that the government used chemical weapons against its own people, that those who suffer the most are the children. She showed a short news clip with some images of the fighting in the streets. All the kids were rapt with attention.

Then two of the boys took turns reading the text of the Pope's message delivered last Sunday calling for peace (you can find the text in English here http://www.vatican.va/holy_father/francesco/angelus/2013/documents/papa-francesco_angelus_20130901_en.html). It was a profound moment. As I listened to the words in Spanish, sitting in this open-air chapel overlooking the beauty of the Honduran countryside, I felt the force of the Church's universality in a way I never had before. Those words redounded around the world in every type of setting, in every language.

Before the time for prayer, Amy called attention to the Pope's call for peace not only in Syria, but also around the world. Honduras, though not at war, is also not at peace, she said. We must pray for the people of Syria, and for peace in our own nation, and in our own hearts.

Everyone was invited to pray for as long as they thought fit. Then every head bowed and silence descended on the chapel while the hymns played in the background. No one stayed for less than half an hour, and when the hour was up there were still several boys at prayer. Each teenager there has suffered so much and for that hour, their prayers were with those suffering so much now.

A few hours after the service, I was hanging out with two of the boys aged about 13 and 15. We were laughing and talking, but soon it became obvious that the morning's prayer service was still on their minds. They kept asking about Syria and the situation there, why the people were fighting the government, why so many people were dying, and why there was such destruction. I found I couldn't answer most of their questions. Then one of them said that during the prayer service he was thinking, what if this hogar wasn't in Honduras, but in Syria. He said he imagined the destruction of his home, the soldiers and tanks bursting through the front gate. And he was grateful that he lived in Honduras.

Sometimes there are moments here when the spirituality, the thoughtfulness, the goodness of the kids, and by proxy the presence of God, is overwhelming. Once in a while it happens during nightly prayer circle, sometimes it's during a conversation or witnessing a moment of kindness, and sometimes it's during such spontaneous moments as a prayer hour with the home's teenaged boys - who have known war - praying for peace.

 

The Prodigal

 

Tonight, during the hour and a half each night between dinner and prayer circle where everyone hangs out outside, I played for a long time with a little boy who is new to the hogar. He is eight years old and has a smile that spreads in a long line across his face, lighting up big brown eyes, a high-pitched, excitable voice and a babyish laugh. He called me over to a corner of the porch to sit on the ground so I could watch him proudly assemble a tiny plastic top. He spun it as fast as he could a few times - "Mira! Mira!" - and then handed it to me to try. He was completely content in that moment, spinning his tiny top or watching me spin it, shrieking when it got too close to the edge of the porch, giggling every time it fell over. I could hardly believe that it was only a few days ago that I had sat with the same boy while he sobbed miserably into a plate of pancakes. 

I was one of the group who went to pick him up from one of the state-run children's homes four days ago. We picked up three new children from the home that day and he had been then one I had gotten to know the least on our trip. In contrast to the other two boys, he had been calm and unimpressed during the ride back to Amigos, half-smiling at times, but mostly quietly looking out the window. I don't remember once seeing the wide smile that has come to define his face for me now.

We arrived to the hogar as everyone does here: to the applause of the entire home gathered at the front gate. All three timidly got out of the car and walked through the crowd where they were introduced to the padrinos and madrinas, the caretakers of the boys and girls who live on-site and are with the children full-time.

I didn't see the littlest boy much that evening or the next day. At dinner in the comedor I made a point to sit with him, but he gave me a cold shoulder. At breakfast and lunch the next day I looked around to find him sitting sullenly, not speaking to the other boys around him. 

Late that afternoon, we, the new volunteers were in the midst of an orientation session when we learned that the boy had run away. It was 4:30 and we learned he had been gone about half an hour. We came out of the session to see search parties assembling. Two of the trucks full of people went out to drive in separate directions and a large group of boys and a few padrinos went out on foot. After night had fallen, the search parties began to return one by one. Staff members assembled a description of the child with photos and dropped them off at local police stations. We had to go to sleep that night not knowing where he was sleeping.

The next day, the whole home was to spend the day at a nearby water-park. Several trips with truck-fulls of kids had to be taken to get everyone there starting at 8 in the morning. I wasn't with the group that found him, but I heard later that it was wild. The whole truck full of children seemed to spot him at the same time and began screaming and pointing. He had been walking towards them down the road; when he spotted them, he darted away and one of the older boys ran after him. When they put him in the car, he was already sobbing.

Amy, our co-director, called me over to the comedor to sit with him while he ate some breakfast. I listened while she told him that he had woried us so much because he is very important to us, because we love him. Waves of sadness poured over the little guy; he didn't know where to put his face. Every time the crying slowed for a bit, a fresh wave seemed to overtake him. He had his little bundle of clothes the hogar had given him in a plastic bag (when he arrived he had nothing with him but the clothes he wore), and he took them all out, refolding them, and putting them away again. He told us he had spent the night in a nearby town, he said, and had been trying to get back to the city to his younger brother. (The younger brother is set to move to Amigos in a few days).

Amy told him that the group was going to a water-park that day and that it would be really fun. Gradually he warmed to the idea. He agreed to leave his bundle at the home and go to the water-park with the last group. While we waited for the truck to arrive, I showed him around the home. We walked up the hill to the big white cross that overlooks the whole campus, and he agreed with me that the view of the mountains was beautiful. We looked at the wide green soccer field with its rows of half-tire "stands." We slid together down Amigos' big tube slide. I realized he hadn't let himself really look around at the home, hadn't let himself begin to like it.

That day at the water-park, I watched a version of this child emerge that I had never seen before as he shrieked and played and acted like the little kid he is, instead of like a mini-adult alone in the world. Since he's been at the hogar I've loved watching him run and play with the other boys and eat good meals with that big smile on his face. That's how his face is supposed to look.

As I begin to understand a little more how important Amigos is and what it does for these kids, this little guy will always come to the forefront of my mind. He always runs up to me now at meals or out on the field after dinner, and I look for him, too. The relationships built with the kids here are what everyone says make it so special. I've got a few I'm working on, but I know this one will always be very special to me. Because he was lost, and I watched him be found.

 

 

 Joanna Gardner
Volunteer 2013-2014

 

 

 

 

Fútbol at the Hogar

Some days evenings arrive unexpectedly, and I walk out of the comedor after dinner and resignedly tie on my cleats after half-hearted appeals from the boys for futbol.  At times we can almost be indifferent to soccer’s inevitability. 

Other times the beautiful game brings an irresistible energy, and entire days seem to revolve around futbol.  Anticipation lasts from breakfast until the hour arrive.  Tengo rigio are the watchwords, echoed throughout the hogar, difficult to translate precisely but roughly expressing a physical yearning for soccer.  Legs feel agitated.  Feet grow restless.  The goals will fly thick and the tackles will be bruising.  On these days all eyes are waiting for sunset.  At Amigos, (our) real futbol is played in the evenings.

 

 

 In small groups we wander onto the soccer field, pale lights illuminating the grass from goal to goal.  Those moments before we play—spent stretching or shooting on goal, or trash-talking—are full of promise.  Each one of us has in our mind a brilliant golazo, a stellar performance recognized by the group.  A lot of respect is earned (and lost) on the soccer field. 
 

We straggle into different teams and wait restlessly.  We’re not yet in full futbol-mode.  Somebody grabs the ball and punts it into the air.  Before it even hits the ground the transition has taken place.  We’re living in the moment, a different state of consciousness where our lives away from that field might as well be a million miles away.  Maybe I exaggerate.  But what is true is that your mind doesn’t work the same way when the ball is at your feet.  Instinct and adrenaline replace words and thought.  The day and all its challenges and troubles slip away, a blessed relief from the stresses of everyday life, for both the boys and me.  Even though soccer can be a time when we channel aggression, we find some measure of peace and belonging on the field.  That’s part of why futbol is so important to the boys here.

 

Love for the game goes deep.  Interest in soccer varies amongst the kids; some rarely or never play and others don’t let a day pass without a session.  But everyone here recognizes soccer as the primary sport, not just of our home but for all of Honduras.  Nationalism and soccer are intricately tied in this country, and that affects the children living at Amigos.  A world-cup qualifier brings excitement, apprehension.  The sports sections of newspapers are devoured.  The quality of certain players is vigorously debated.  And when game-time arrives, the children of Amigos huddle around radios or televisions and join the millions of other Hondurans cheering and groaning throughout those 90 minutes.  A goal scored for Honduras unleashes chaotic bliss.  We jump out of chairs, screaming, arms extended to the ceiling.  The younger children, often unaware of what’s going on, join in the shouting and hugging, scrambling to involve themselves in the celebration.  Moments of disorderly, wonderful happiness. 

 

Soccer is part of Amigos de Jesus.  There’s a rhythm and fluidity to life here that futbol expresses so well.  The soccer field is a canvas on which the kids channel their creativity and imagination.  And it’s a joy to share their passion. 

 

Joseph Starzl

Amigos de Jesus Volunteer 2012

BECA Administrator 2013

Oscar Francisco Romero 12/17/2005 - 06/13/2013

There was a rich man who dressed in purple garments and fine linen and dined sumptuously each day.  And lying at his door was a poor man named Lazarus, covered with sores, who would have gladly eaten his fill of the scraps that fell from the rich man’s table.  Dogs even used to come and lick his sores.  (Luke 16:19-21)

Oscar Francisco Romero arrived at Amigos de Jesus as Lazarus and spent the last 48 days of his life experiencing what Lazarus was given in heaven:  comfort, the care of angels, love and a life worth living.

Oscarito was brought to us on April 26 by the Missionaries of Charity, the Sisters who live the life laid out for them by Mother Teresa to care for the poorest of the poor.  They asked us to provide a permanent home for Oscarito because they knew that we would become his family for the rest of his life and would provide him with a level of care they were not able to provide.  He had been left for dead at an international border crossing and found in March of this year.  At approximately 7 years old he weighed less than 20 pounds, and dragged his emaciated body through garbage, filth, flies and dogs in search of scraps.  He was living a life worse than that of a stray dog.  No one had ever bothered to get Oscarito a birth certificate or medical care.  He had never felt love.  After the Sisters rescued Oscarito he spent a month in a run-down public hospital fighting for his life.  With nowhere to go upon release, we received a phone call at 9:00 PM asking if we could please take him first thing in the morning.  So the next day Oscar came home to Amigos de Jesus.

Amigos de Jesus undoubtedly changed Oscarito’s life.  He lived his last days clean and safe, with a balanced and nutritious diet, quality medical care, a special toy he loved, a jogging stroller he used to explore our rough terrain, and a bed of his own for sleeping.  More importantly, however, Oscarito was cared for and loved.  He was so very loved and he returned the love we gave him in abundance in spite of the fact that he only knew love for 48 days.

Though Oscarito’s life may have been changed by Amigos de Jesus, he changed ours in so many ways and changed all of us for the better. 

Oscarito changed us as he taught us to never be the rich man in Jesus speaks about in the Gospel according to St. Luke.  We were afraid to bring Oscarito to Amigos de Jesus because we’ve never had a child so sick, so disabled, so dependent for every little thing, and with so many medical needs.  We wondered if we could ignore his needs as we thought there must be someone else who could do a better job, or a place that was better equipped.  But Honduras is a place of few resources for special children like Oscarito and we are here to be friends of Jesus so we welcomed him home.

Oscarito changed David, one of our older children who will start University this year.  David, always a slightly immature young man lacking in direction but with a heart of gold, became Oscarito’s primary caregiver.  We needed someone to look out for Oscarito immediately and our madrinas, padrinos and volunteers were already stretched too far to be able to give Oscarito the one on one care he needed.  The two of them spent their days going for walks with David pushing the jogging stroller, listening to music together, and being in each other’s presence.  David kept an alarm set to go off every three hours to make sure Oscar’s meals were always on time.  He took it upon himself to make sure Oscarito didn’t get sores from being in one position for too long, was protected from the sun, and was stimulated and engaged.  He delighted in every small step Oscarito made- smiling and laughing, holding his own water bottle, climbing out of his stroller, finding ways to communicate his needs.  He worried relentlessly that Oscarito’s seizure medications were too strong, or that he wasn’t gaining weight quickly enough.  He lost sleep over his worries about Oscarito.  At 18 years old, David became Oscarito’s father and demonstrated a love and maturity David himself didn’t imagine he was capable of.

Oscarito changed our children and taught them about gifts and blessings.  Meeting him, knowing him, seeing him lose his fears and begin to smile for the first time in his life showed our children- all of whom have been through unimaginably difficult and inhumane situations in their short lives- that life is a gift, that there is always something to smile about and that we all have blessings to count.  Some of our most troubled and broken children poured love into Oscarito.  In their love and care for Oscarito they have lived the gospel:  “for whatever you did to the least of my brothers and sisters, you did to me.” (Mt 25:40) For many it was the first time they understood that they are called to use their gifts to minister to others and were able to truly experience giving unconditional love.

Each member of the Amigos de Jesus family has a story about how Oscarito has changed our lives for the better.  We are crying tears of pain that we have not had enough time to spend with Oscarito here on earth.  We share stories, we remember, we support each other and we give thanks.  All of us are so very grateful for the opportunity to have loved and to be changed by Oscarito, our little boy who is gone far too soon.

Oscarito may have spent most of his life as Lazarus but he spent the last 48 days as a son, a brother, a friend, and someone who was finally able to experience the love and joy he is now experiencing in heaven.  He touched more hearts and impacted more lives in 48 days than most of us do in a lifetime. 

Praise God for Oscarito, and may our sweet, tough, amazing little child be truly welcomed into heaven where we now have a guardian angel forever.  We miss you Oscar Francisco Romero, thank you for changing our lives.  You are so loved.

Welcome to Second Grade

Amigos de Jesús  along with BECA (Bilingual Education for Central America) now offers its’ children and children from communities in neighboring towns the chance of a lifetime – a bilingual education. In the fall of 2013 we will officially begin our partnership with BECA, and  grades K-2 will be taught by both a native English speaker and a Honduran teacher. Right now, as we await this change in education (and the arrival of new teachers) the volunteers have been asked to aid in the process and help to teach subjects or grades modeled after a typical BECA classroom. In February I was given the honor of being appointed as the English teacher for our newly formed second grade class. I could not be happier to be a part of this chapter at Amigos de Jesús  And as such thought it would be nice to share our experiences of a typical day in second grade.
 

First, I’d like to say that there is never a typical day at Amigos de Jesus and the same goes for my second grade class. As every teacher knows, you can plan every second of your “flawless” day and then something completely unexpected happens and changes everything.  My students never cease to surprise me with their ability to soak up all we learn like little sponges.  

We start our day at school together with Morning Prayer. Prayer, is one of the only times that we speak Spanish in class together. As the year progresses I hope to have them saying the sign of the cross, Hail Mary and Our Father in English. For now we pray in Spanish and they thank God for all he has given us. A 7 year-olds prayer ranges from thanking God for the trees and animals to the food that is always on the table, for their caretakers or for their best friends. It’s always a surprise. After prayer we begin our day with Morning Circle, from this point on we only speak in English. I have all of the boys and girls sit down in front of me facing the white board and they learn about the date, the weather and counting. As they become more comfortable with the basics of each subject in English we will eventually expand on each subject and thus their vocabulary will grow. The children love Morning Circle because it involves each of them, it stays relatively the same and has a series of activities to learn and reinforce new English words and phrases to use later during class time. Their favorite part of circle is singing. Right now, they know eight songs - all in English. After morning circle, it’s time to read in English at Guided Reading time.

Guided Reading is my chance to review what they remember in a fun way.  We read a book together and they tell me what's happening, make predictions and of course give me their well informed critical opinion of anything and everything they see in the pictures. In doing this, they begin to start thinking critically and use their imagination in ways they had not in their former education experience.  I often remember being read to as a child by my parents and I realize that this is something some of my students will never experience. I like to think that reading together may give them memories similar to mine and that they will one day love to read. After we read a story together it is time for them to practice reading on their own in English at Reading Centers.

Reading Centers give the children a chance to pick their favorite books and attempt to read in English. Little by little they have learned various words and get so excited when they read a word and know what it means. I get just as excited as they do and plenty of high-fives are exchanged and it seems like I always say “good job.” I hope by the end of my time here I will have the children reading and understanding small books. I have high expectations for my class and they always seem to surpass them.

After Reading Centers it’s time to practice writing. Writing block is the children’s time to write the words they have learned and try their hand at some tricky English grammar. I spend the first ten minutes teaching the children grammar that relates to the theme of the week. They then try their best to apply the rules using vocabulary they can see around the classroom. Some of my students still struggle with letter recognition in their own language, but we face our problems head on, do our best to improve and always sing a song or two.  After we learn about grammar we practice our ABCs and spelling in Word Work.

Word Work is the best part of the day for most students. They get to play fun games and play with blocks. The best part is all the games are educational but I’m pretty sure they haven't realized it yet. We practice letter recognition with puzzles and card games. We also spell words using blocks. Sometimes I’ll throw in a math game to see how much they remember. At the end of the day everyone helps to clean up and then we close our day with a prayer and thank God for the wonderful day he has given us.

This is pretty much a typical day for my Second grade class. They also have Spanish, computers, physical education, art and music throughout the week. All specials except for Spanish are conducted in English by other volunteers. This is the opportunity of a lifetime for these children and I am extremely proud to be their teacher. I am so eager to teach them as much English as possible by the time my year of service is up and can’t wait to see how they’ll improve when I come back to visit next year.

Joseph Sarappo '13
Current Volunteer