He is 14 and lives with his grandmother. His father is here in Mariano with two younger kiddos. He was born of a different mother who lives in a community nearby but she has her own family. The way his father cares for, treats, and loves his youngest two is not how he treats this one. He cooks here and feeds the little ones but gives nothing to him. I've watched him get beat, criticized, and put down for many reasons. Whenever his father comes around now, he disappears, which causes more problems. He barely let's me put a gentle hand on his leg let alone hug him. But I tell him I love him anyways. And when I ask, he tells me he believes me. I hope he truly does. And I now bring half of my lunch and dinner back with me to give to him.
Things have gotten better between him and I. He loves coming to the river with me, he offers to go buy my Botellon de agua and carry it to my house, and sometimes we play games on my tablet. The other night he cut up three pineapples and we made juice together in my blender, enjoying it cold the next day. I found out he loves picante just as much as I do. Last night was a cold night so I made hot chocolate and him, TiTin, Yoelbi, and I drank it, dunking the bread that I bought in it.
Today we lugged water up the hill and to my house and his father was waiting, angry. Of course, venting to me in front of him, telling me how horrible his son is. How he goes to other houses and does chores but runs and hides when he knows he has chores here to do. How he wants to know how much the other families pay him to do their work and that it's abuse. I wanted to explode. Tell him that his neglect for his own son is more abuse than that will ever be. That while yes, he should do chores here seeing that it's where he lives, I understand why he doesn't. That he shouldn't ever consider himself a son of God allowing his oldest to starve while he feeds his younger two in front of him. How I want to take the whip from his hands and make him feel what he makes his son feel every time he lowers it onto his bare back. God forgive me for admitting to that.
Instead, I remained silent. And when there was a break in his rant, I walked to Dominga's house to hug little Naomi in the hopes that the tears threatening to fall would somehow soak their way back into my dehydrated body. A man from Vision Mundial came and had him write a letter to the man that sponsors him from the States; a beautiful program but one that holds many flaws (that's a whole other topic). I waited patiently and when he left, gave my little man the half of my food I had saved for him; but hidden in my house as to not let his father find out. It was 1:30am and this was the first time he had eaten all day.
My heart breaks for him. And I fear but also ache for the day when I finally work up the courage to unload on his father. It won't change a thing but I can't hold it in forever. Even his own mother hates the way he treats him but whenever she tries to say something, he shuts her up and tells her it's none of her business how he chooses to raise his children. Except it is her business. He sleeps with her and has no one else raising him.
I wish I could do more. But for now I will continue to feed him and tell him I love him in the hopes that I can be some small difference in his life. As for all of you, back home, reading this? Please send prayers for him and all the other children in situations like this or worse. It's not only in this country, sadly. The states carry many flaws that present themselves in many forms. And if all we can do is pray and maybe show someone we love them when no one else does? We can make a bigger difference than we will ever be aware of in this lifetime. It's not much. But it's something.
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