Heartbreak (and Hope)

This week I´ve had the opportunity to learn more about street children in Bolivia and the work Bolivian Street Children Project (BSCP) does to address this reality.

The city of La Paz is shaped like a bowl, La Paz being the bottom of the bowl, and El Alto being the sides and top. (El Alto is where my plane landed when I first arrived in-country). David, the street outreach worker, took a Bolivian-American volunteer, Camila, and I out for a day of walking the streets of El Alto and La Paz in search for a child who ran away from his home at BSCP.

On our drive up to El Alto, we dropped by a church that had contacted BSCP about housing a boy named Luis who had been threatening to run away from his home. Together with the pastor and his wife and the three of us from BSCP, Luis´mother began to share her heartbreak. She explained how her 12-year old son had been disrespecting her for many years now, worsening as he grew older. She has other two younger children that she cares for, is widowed, and works all day cleaning clothes and cooking...only to later come home to a defiant son who spends most of his time on the streets, slowly acquiring a premature sense of authority and independence. Although I don´t know what types of things Luis did to his mother, all I know is that tears poured down her face as she explained how desperate she was for help. She loved her son so much and wanted to try to work things out, but she couldn´t bear it anymore. She came to the decision that the best thing, at this point, was to have him run away to BSCP where she knew he would be taken care of. While BSCP usually seeks to help abandoned street children with no parents at all, this, according to David, was a special case.

I can´t imagine being a mom in her situation. The stress of working all day to provide for three kids as a widowed woman, only to come home to a child who needs so much more than perhaps she feels able to offer... It was a tragic thing to witness, to see the love of a mom so strong that she willingly offers her son a home and family she can´t be a part of. Some might not call this love. I think I would have too if I hadn´t been there. But being in that room with her, you just knew it had to be love.

After this visit, we proceeded to the streets of El Alto. It was everything you might imagine the most urban, poor parts of any large city would look like. Street stands selling candy, juice bags, and snacks, little ones shining shoes and selling from a small pile of fruit. Wafts of pollution, urine and garbage. Potholes, broken buildings, dirty arcades. It was quite the flurry of people. No picture here because 1. David said not to use our cameras on these streets because people would try to steal it once they saw it, which could often involve violence, and 2. It would just feel inappropriate taking pictures here.

David told us that the children usually come out at night, but that´s when it´s more dangerous. Children come out during the day to either play arcade games (David said they are addicted to this, even though they have no money), find day jobs like being a caller, or ´vocero´ that rides in a minibus to call out the destinations to faces whizzing by, or to steal items they can later sell for money. At night, kids are more apt to come out because they are less visible to the police who are notorious for abusing them or maybe because they feel like this is the time that they own the streets. We roamed the streets for a few hours as David told us more about the street children. As David spoke, I sensed a great understanding and passion for the kids. Where did this come from?

David, at the age of 8, was kicked out of his house by his mother and forced to the streets. Though this was more than 30 years ago, he still knew the secrets of the streets. That´s what forges his connection with his work, with the children. He says that when he sees policemen abusing the kids, he´ll step in between them to protect the kids. Incredible. It´s no surprise that he has devoted most of his life to working with and for street children in his home country.

After this, we head back down to La Paz where we continue look for the little boy who ran away. More kids are out at this time on the streets of La Paz, I think perhaps because you see more middle and upper class persons roaming this area willing to drop a boliviano or two out of pity or to get their shoes shined.

David stops in front of a kid we see leaning against a store window with a shoe shining box in front of his lap. David recognizes him. David pulls out of his journal and shuffles through many pictures to pull one out of this boy with his older brother. Apparently he´s met the boy before, not sure when or for how long he knew him. David gives him the picture, holds out his hand, and says in spanish, ¨5 Bolivianos.¨ The kid chuckles. He crouches down next to the boy and asks him how he´s doing. He asks him where he´s living now. He asks him where his brother is. David pulls out a piece of paper with his name and number and lets the kid know that when he wants to come back, all he needs to do is call. The boy nods and David ruffles his hair as we say goodbye to the him. Wow, that picture deal really rocked my world. How special it must have been for this child to get a picture of him with his brother? How special to be recognized...and sought after.

It is nearly five and Camila and I need to head back to the office for our ride home. David hails us a taxi and sends us back as he continues looking for this little boy. I wonder how long he stayed out. I wish this boy knew how much he was cared for.


The beautiful thing is, many have and more will.