Orphanages (Part 2)

And so at age 15 the Girl arrived at the large private orphanage in central Honduras. She would later tell me that she finally felt she was at a place that "fit her."

It was there that I first met her back in 2003. Though I had stopped by the orphanage for a quick tour the previous year, this was my first "official" visit to this orphanage, a week long stay with a group comprised mostly of kids from Auburn University. I didn't know this at the time, but the Girl had arrived there herself only a few weeks earlier.

If you've never visited an orphanage, here is something you need to understand: most have "sponsorship" or patronage systems in place. This is how they raise a substantial portion of the funds required to feed, clothe, and house the kids in their care. For the sponsor, this becomes a way to "feel good" by making a small monthly contribution towards the welfare of a child. For the kids, many of whom come from the same poverty and circumstances similar to the Girl's, this sponsorship becomes a matter of utmost importance. A sponsor is a symbol of hope. A connection to the world outside the gate. And truthfully, someone who will likely send you birthday and Christmas presents, as well as buying you things when they visit. Some of the kids who are friendly and good-looking become quite proficient in the process and obtain multiple sponsors (and to this I say, "Good for them"). This is the orphanage culture among the kids.

I arrived in 2003 with determination to become a sponsor. I had mental picture of "the chosen one" before I even arrived. She would be young (five or six years old), pretty, and smile a lot. A daughter to a dad who had two boys at home. I had a yearning to spoil some little girl absolutely and completely rotten. I'd done "snips and snails and puppy dog's tails" and was ready for "sugar and spice and everything nice." And so I took every opportunity I had that week with the kids to look for the chosen one. The only problem was that everywhere I went, there was a smiling fifteen year old at my side (the Girl). She knew almost no English ("what is your name" sounded like "what is jew name?"). She shadowed me the whole week, always smiling. The day I left, I learned she knew a little more English : "I have no esponsor."

And thus began my family's relationship with the Girl. My wife would later jokingly say that the Girl knew how to spot a sucker. Maybe that's true, but it has never mattered much to me.

Next post: Orphanages (Part 3)