Today is day three of trying to get some foster
children assigned to my missionary friends.
IHNFA called me four days ago and asked for some help finding a good foster
home for an 11 month old.
I could hardly drag myself out of bed this
morning, I was up until after 1:30 am working on book work last night, after a
long day at IHNFA and I was so tired, but I finally did dragggggggg myself out
of bed albeit, 10 minutes before I knew I MUST leave the house in order to get
be on time for my scheduled appointment at Denny’s with my gringo friends.
I found 500 lempira ($25) and added it to my purse;
I just set it inside my purse, not in my billfold. After all I was in a hurry, I sent Jose to add
gas to my car with a different 500 lempira bill, and while he was gone, I took
a shower, brushed my teeth, brushed my hair, threw on some clothes all in 10
minutes and walked out the door as he was arriving back at the house. I arrived
at Denny’s before everyone else, but still later than agreed upon. Whew, they started off with a typical late
Honduran day.
We (Melissa the missionary and I) had a
scheduled appointment at IHNFA (Honduran children’s services) at 9:00 am but
when I asked if it was “Honduran time” or “gringo time” I was told “Honduran
time”, so we ate at Denny's talked with old friends, met new friends, called
and were told they were ready to see us and then headed out to IHNFA at
10:30ish, Honduran speak for 9:00 am. It
was no surprise to me that when we arrived they were not in the office, even though
they told us they were waiting for us on the telephone.
The missionary’s husband has spent the last 3
days “buying a car”. So we left him with the man selling the car, an attorney
and the attorney’s brother and the Denny’s bill. I gave him 100 lempira for my part of the
breakfast and 20 lempira I laid on the table for a tip. Melissa and I left and headed out for our day
of adventure.
First we met with two of the mothers of two of
the children who are “at risk” and need the “temporary shelter” of a foster
home. Mother #1 was raised for 17 years
in the IHNFA home and at 18 years old was sent out to live on the streets, with
no family and no home and the only place she had ever known as a home was IHNFA
Los Casitas. One month later she was pregnant.
Mother #2 also had lived in Los Casitas, but I am not sure for how long.
She is still 18 and has her baby also.
Both of the mothers are 18 years young, there
are no fathers in the picture. Mother #2
had a relationship with a common street thief and he was unceremoniously killed
not long after the mother found out that she was pregnant. Both mothers were very loving towards their
babies and both wanted what they think is best for their babies, however the
best thing is NOT for the children to be living on the streets of the most
dangerous country in the world. We
introduced them both to the missionary nurse who is willing to raise the
children, on a farm in the country. At
first both were adamant that they wanted their children NOT to go with anyone
else to live. Mother #1 walked out of
the room and left. Mother #2 stayed and talked and asked for money.
But while this all this was going on, Mother #3
came in with a 3 month old beautiful little boy. Mom #3 is a “crack cocaine” mom who was
nursing her baby and “taking good care of him”.
He surely is beautiful, looks healthy and fat, but a crack mom? If she really is a crack mom, how is he so
healthy looking? She cried because they
were going to take the baby away. It was
pitiful. They ask mom #3 for the baby’s
birth certificate but she has never registered him. So he exists but doesn’t exist on paper. I have no idea how the social worker and the
attorney make these kinds of decisions all day every day. It is discovered from reports that mom #3 and
her husband leave the baby where ever and wander the streets at night drunk and
high. Many neighbors have reported them
and thus she was picked up.
Mother #3 was barely out the door when through
the window we hear howling (the kid) and screaming (the mom). The social worker
stands up and looks out the window just in time to see Mom #4 with kid #4a and kid
#4b.
While the screaming and howling is going on
outside the building, we find out that Mom #2 had already given her baby to another
woman. That woman went to the Registry
of Persons and that woman lied saying the child was hers and got a birth
certificate on the child. That happens a
lot here, more than I care to think about.
Meanwhile that other woman, who is there fighting for the baby and saying
how she can take good care of her, the woman whom the Mom #2 had given her baby
to, who had illegally gone in and applied for the birth certificate for the
little girl, saying she was her mom, walks back into the attorney’s office and
asks me for money. “Please, I do not
have money for a bus!” So she is here
fighting for the baby because she can give her a “good home” and take “god care
of her” but she doesn’t have $1 for a bus ride across town. While she is still standing there “convincing”
me that I need to give her money, Mom #4 is coming in the door, her son is the
screaming kid which we have been hearing outside the window. Mom #4 has in tow,
kid #4a her son and kid #4b is a beautiful little girl with wide eyes who never
made a sound the whole time she was there.
Mom #4 was turning her son over to IHNFA
because he didn’t want to go to school, wanted to be with his dad who is a “drunk”
and was running around with “gang members”.
The attorney by this time has gone
outside and physically picked up child #4a in his arms and carried him in like
a 2 year old with him screaming and kicking all the way. Tears flowing, the attorney sat the 9 year
old down in a chair and he continued kicking at the desk and wailing. So now we have hard shoes kicking against
metal, mom #4 screaming, kid #4a howling, kid #4b wide eyed and beautiful and the
missionary and I, the social worker, the attorney, a male helper and the fake birth
certificate, not real mom all in a room the size of a very small postage
stamp. Melissa the missionary and I sat
there watching the show. I looked over
at her and she had tears welling up in her eyes. I am watching the show, thinking, “This kid
needs some good discipline and a lot of the Word of God.”
The social worker looks at me and asks what I think;
I respond this is a spiritual thing and a discipline thing. She nods her head in agreement. She tells me she is a Christian. I am thankful.
The attorney stops mid-stream and asks if I
have found a home for a 9 year old boy who does NOT have AIDS. But his mom and dad are dying of AIDS and his
little brother and sister 2 and 3 years old are in an AIDS clinic/home already,
they too are dying. He is hoping to get the
boy placed where his mom and dad will know that he is safe and sound with a
home to grow up in, before they die.
According to medical people mom’s death is imminent, so there is a huge
hurry and of course they want someone who is willing to allow him to visit mom
and dad until they die. And what is left
unsaid is that after they die, all the family members who currently do not
exist because there is medicine to buy and caskets to buy, will show up to
claim the child as soon as mom and dad are in the ground, because he is old
enough to work and he is a boy and he can contribute his money to their family. Does anyone want a 9 year old little boy?
Without any regard for the conversation taking
place, the “fake mom” for child #2 is still asking for money but she has been
shoved out the door by now yet she continues to pop her head in and out of the
door. The attorney shoos her head and shoulders
out of the room, her feet and legs were already outside. By now there are about 7 other people
gathered in the hallway to watch as the show unfolds. The attorney slams his hand down on the desk;
the kid quits crying for a second and then starts it up again. I look at the
missionary, she looks at me. The
attorney sends all the others down the hall, but they only partially comply,
moving a few feet down the hall and edging their way back towards us to see
what is going to happen. The attorney gets
up, crawls over the screaming kid’s legs, who is still kicking the desk, crawls
past the other man who is helping to control the kid (lol) and then crawls over
my legs and the missionaries legs, passes by mom #4 who is still mad as a wet
hen, past beautiful little girl #4b and disappears down the hall, herding all
the people standing in the hallway as he goes.
You might be thinking, “Why doesn’t he just
shut the door?” The reason is that it is
83 degrees, noon and high sun, roof with no insulation under it, one window, a
room the size of a postage stamp about 8 feet by 7 feet, replete with 2 desks,
5 chairs, 6 adults and 2 children and head and shoulders of yet another adult
popping in and out. Oh, and I almost forgot
body odor and stinky diapers.
The street mom, mom #2 takes advantage of the attorney
being busy, remember she is the one who has the 11 month old, whose father was
a street thief who was killed, walks back in and asks me for money, which I
declined to give to her. She walks out
again.
The attorney still is not back. So we chat with the social worker who says
her dad wanted her to be a nurse but she wanted to be a social worker.
Another lady who came with mom #1 walks in and
asks me for money. She explains that she
is a street missionary and lives on donations.
I explain to her that I have not cashed a check today. This is my normal way out for the 20 times a
day which people ask for money, except for the days which I do cash a check and
then I just stay home. She explains that
she will have to walk to downtown if I don’t give her money; I explain AGAIN that
I have not cashed a check today. She
kisses me goodbye, holds my face in both of her hands, and smiles with every
other tooth missing, her which probably have been touching dirty diapers are
now holding my face, she kisses me again on the cheek and heads off out the
door to catch a private cab which is 3 times as expensive as a bus. Go figure! Of course one of the others was excited to
tell me about the private taxi; just where I would know that she really didn’t need
the money, but I am sure they expected a reward for the information. Meanwhile several people ask Melissa the
missionary for money.
The attorney walks back into the room and starts
caressing kid #4’s head and talking to him and he calms down. He has been screaming most of this time. The
social worker asks him a question and he says that mom is abusive to him. She (the mom) starts screaming at him and he
starts making “go to hell” eyes at her. When
he furrows his eyebrows, I finally get a good look at him to see that his forehead
looks like he has been dragged across asphalt or rocks. Mom #4 continues telling how he refuses to be
obedient and he is always in the streets and won’t go to school and he calls
her a liar. They give him a pencil and
paper and he starts writing like a 2nd grader even though he has said
he is a 4th grader. They asked
him his name and he tells them one thing, then mom says he is lying and his
name is something else. Who should we believe?
She is asked if she has a birth certificate for him to prove his name,
but she has none.
I look at the missionary and she no longer has
tears in her eyes. Thank God, I was
thinking that this whole thing might be too hard on her, but we still had not
finished our business. How could we with
all of these interruptions.
The street mom, Mom #2, who has the 11 month
old, whose father was a street thief who was killed, walks back in and asks for
money, which I declined to give to her for the 3rd time.
It is decided that we need to go talk to the
judge at the children’s court to see if we can have a little boy who is 2 years
old given over into the foster care of the missionary. We get up to go. The hall is once again filled with people,
each of which looks us over as we walk out the door.
We go out to the car, but of course someone has
parked behind us and we cannot move until they come out of whatever office they
are in to move their car. We finally get free to leave and Melissa the
missionary looks at me and says, “I don’t pray for you enough. I need to pray harder for you.” I laugh.
It is now 1:15 and we head to the courthouse. On the way, I decide to stop and use a clean
bathroom for a minute and then decide to leave my car and take a cab because the
Kid’s Court is in a bad neighborhood and you have to park several blocks
away.
I call about seven taxis and all are busy. Finally I call a friend of one of the taxi
drivers whom I know and used to trust, until this afternoon I trusted him
anyway. The guy shows up in a 1918 model
taxi with no shocks, no air conditioning and the windows rolled down. Melissa the missionary and I get in, my butt
hits seat springs and they are not comfortable.
I pull my gun out of my purse and
place it between my legs for easy access in case I need it. The taxi driver visibly gulps. I call the friend who referred him to me and
tell him that it really is not correct that he referred me to a taxi with no windows
and no air conditioning, it is not safe in Tegucigalpa and he knows that. He says he knows, but he is his friend and it
will never happen again. I am sure it won’t
happen again at least until the next time he can’t do a run and refers him
again, two taxi telephone numbers off my list.
The taxi driver drops us off, I give him the 85 lempira plus a 15
lempira tip and he speeds off.
We go into the courthouse, wait for the papers
on the case. Chat to pass the time and
then go up stairs to the waiting room to see the judges. My phone rings with a problem about two
children siblings who were “rescued” by IHNFA and escaped and now have to be
re-rescued. I am told that they want to
go to a children’s home where the other two siblings are living. Since the missionary who the children escaped
and ran back to wants them in a safe place, she called me to help with the
details. The waiting room is about 100 degrees,
several moms and dads waiting to see the judges. A case worker from another ministry was with
a little girl and her mom with AIDS, and there were many other cases of moms
and kids. Two teens walk in escorted by
armed police guards, two different teens walk out escorted by armed police
guards. Melissa the missionary and I sit
and sweat. The place stinks. I call IHNFA and arrange for the children to
be turned over to the children’s home on Thursday. By now I am bored and hungry, I pull out a
piece of candy for myself. I give some
kids in the waiting room some candy. About
an hour later we go in to see the judge.
He agrees to what we need. We are
told to bring in paperwork next week. He
also agrees to the rescue of another kid who really needs rescuing. We leave, go downstairs and wait for Jose to
pick us up in his car with windows and air-conditioning. I didn’t want to give another unknown taxi
driver a heart attack by pulling out my gun and placing it between my
legs.
We then went to the Attorney General’s office
where we give them the paper with the order to “rescue” the boy at risk. It is basically a capture order but since it
is for a child it is called a “rescue order”.
They agree that they will rescue him when they can.
Completely worn out we went to TIGO to pick up
Melissa the missionary’s two new telephones.
On Wednesday we spent more than two hours filling out the paperwork and
were supposed to go in and just pick them up.
That was a joke! We spent another
two hours redoing the paperwork and getting everything tweaked and then off to
eat Chinese. We still did not get the
telephones which were promised for Thursday afternoon. Now they will be sent by courier sometime
next week. I have 100 lempira which says
that it won’t happen… but that is the plan.
Chinese food was good and since we had not eaten
lunch we were starved. Jose dropped me
off at my front door and Melissa the missionary and her husband took off in
their newly purchased car. Before Jose
could get the car parked, I was asleep, so I am writing this early morning
Saturday but posting it late night Friday… The wonders of blogging!
Accomplished:
1.
The rescue order written and delivered for a
teenage boy who will be picked up by the police.
2.
An agreement for the placement for a 2 year old
boy with Melissa the missionary.
3.
The verbal agreement for placement of two
children 11 and 13 years old in a private Christian children’s home.
4.
An appointment scheduled for the rescue of two
little girls ages 2 and 3, sisters to nine others who have all been placed in
foster care and mom is pregnant with number twelve and not one of the children
have the same father.
5.
An appointment scheduled for paperwork for another
9 year old sister of theirs to be signed over for abandonment.
Pending:
1.
The placement of a 9 year old boy whose parents
and siblings have AIDS.
2.
The placement of a 9 month old girl.
3.
The placement of a 3 month old girl.
4.
The placement of 3 orphaned little sisters
whose parents were killed in a car accident.
5.
The receipt of 2 telephones.
6.
Delivery and placement of the teenage boy after
he is arrested.
7.
Follow-up and delivery to the children’s home/orphanage
of the 11 and 13 year old siblings.
1.
Find the 500 lempira which is missing from my
purse.
I need to do a million things tomorrow, but
tomorrow is tomorrow.
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