A Harsh Reality: A Glimpse At Some of the Challenges We Face

        It has been an interesting and incredibly busy two weeks. Don't expect any apologies from me about not blogging because I've been anything but lazy. I'd like to warn everyone that this blog will contain some very real and possibly upsetting stories.

        I debated quite a bit with myself about exactly how much detail to share: on one hand this blog is primarily to entertain and keep everyone at home from worrying about me, but on the other hand perhaps an occasional dose of reality surrounding what I, Kiya Survivors, and their volunteers are actually facing here.

        On Wednesday, the 22nd of February, I went out on my first day of outreach here at the center. As the kids were on vacation from the 20th of February to the 2nd of March this day of outreach represented my first true day of volunteering.

        On outreach we do a variety of things. Everything from taking food to families to doing battle with red tape to help mothers receive child support payments is fair game. This particular Tuesday we began by taking one mother to a nearby city, Ollantaytambo, to begin the process of filing for child support. In true Peruvian fashion it took several hours as we shuttled back and forth between town-hall, the local governor's residence, and the house of the child's father collecting names, addresses, and filing papers. It needed to be done, but it couldn't have been done by the single mother. It was an exasperating process, but not everything we do is fun and games.

        After this several hour bureaucracy battle we headed out to visit the families of several disabled children who we had heard about but had not had a chance to visit. In essence we were surveying the situation and offering food and education to the children. But what we do can't be simple handouts: before we return with food and before we make arrangements for the children to come to the center we wanted to be sure that they were being treated well at home.

        Do they have their own clean bed? Are they being treated well, with love, and free from abuse? Was the father involved in the raising of the children and if not, did he support the family in any way? These were all things we needed to find out in our initial surveys of the families. Our fantastic social worker, Iris, made sure that the families knew that we genuinely cared about the welfare of the children and that certain things, such as having a disabled female sharing a bed with a male relative, were not OK. Once we were sure that the children were being properly cared for Iris assured the families that we would be back to help.

        Many times negligence or ignorance can lead to the poor care of a disabled child. Children with disabilities can be immensely more difficult to raise than your average child and at times people are simply unaware of the special needs of their children. Unfortunately, some families do have malicious intentions which go beyond simple negligence.

        I can't tell you which one explains the horrible situation that we found this girl in. She was likely between 14 to 17 years old, but it was difficult to tell. To say that it was a poor family would be something of an understatement. We found her laying on a foam mattress in a very dark one bedroom house. She was being taken care of by her grandmother's sister as her own mother had passed away many years ago. She was very ill. Naked from the waist down and laying on her foam mattress on the floor we knew she desperately needed assistance.

         When the aunt grandmother told us that the girl shared the bed with her uncle we made it very clear that this was absolutely not OK. She needed her own bed. We promised to return to help not only the girl, but also the aunt grandmother with food, house renovations, and cleaning. We, unfortunately, never got the chance to help the girl: we were told only a few days later that she had passed away. We nevertheless returned to the family's house a week later, as promised, to see what we might still do to help. 

The soot you see above the right-hand window came from the stove inside. Without a proper chimney much of the inside of the house was in a similar condition.

        Through conversations with the aunt grandmother, a neighbor, and a local shop owner we learned, too late, exactly how bad the girl's situation had been. The uncle with whom she "shared a bed" was an alcoholic and the girl was often seen wandering around unclothed searching for food. Presumable she was was not being fed enough. The neighbor claims to have seen her eating animal excrement and that the aunt grandmother was known to drink excessively.

        To recount this story brings up such a vile mix of emotions in me that I am having trouble typing this now. The English language, and any other language that I can think of, lacks the words to describe exactly how brutally frustration it was to hear all these horrendous details after the girl's death.

        The helpless rage and sadness we felt, and still feel, surrounding the whole situation can not be done justice by anything I write. No matter how many times I wrote and rewrote the above story I could not capture the entirety of the experience. Who can I be angry at? How can I vent my frustration? Is ignorance to blame? Is crippling poverty to blame? If only someone could tell me where to direct my fury perhaps I would not feel as vilely ill to my stomach as I did learning all this.

        This is why I am writing this all here: it is half catharsis and half a shot of reality. I know as you are reading this now you did not come on this blog to hear such terrible things, but nothing I am telling you is an exaggeration. Everything you are reading is reality. Situations like this exist and it does you, me, or anyone else no good to pretend they do not.

         This is the reality we are doing are best to change. It hurts to think that we can't save everyone, but it gives me hope to know we can save a few. From Fernando, Kiya Survivor's first rescued child, to Luis at Mama Cocha, Kiya has helped children in equally if not worse situations. They have also likely prevented many more similar situations by spreading awareness about the plight of disabled children in Peru. Awareness really is the path forward; A cultural change must be made. Providing education to an unfortunately uninformed population is one of the greatest facets of Kiya Survivors.

        Reality is harsh, but the more we open our eyes to it the more we can do to change it. Social progress is a messy thing, but your help does bring change.

        I will write no more today as nothing else I can say belongs under the same post as this one. I will only say that I am alive and despite this gut-wrenching story things are well for myself. Tomorrow all the children will return to the Rainbow Center for classes so I eagerly await that.

        Life must move on. We all need to move forward holding on to the lessons of the past without finding ourselves trapped in any one moment. We have much work to do and more more of life to live.