KONY 2012

We just watched KONY 2012 with students at the dorm. It is quite strange to me to feel so connected here, on an Indian reservation in the foothills of SE Montana, where we do not have internet at our house, to a movement that is spreading throughout the rest of the world.

If you haven't seen it, watch it.

A Story

This is a short story. It’s also a true story. I call it a short story because it is a glimpse into the lives of the students here at St. Labre, specifically one student named James. While it is his unique experience, it also adds real insight to the larger issues many kids face on the reservation. James lived in the group home when he was younger.
Two of my housemates work in Shiloh, the group home, this year. They work, play and mentor the six elementary aged children currently living there. These are kids whose parents have lost custody or, in some cases, voluntarily bring their kids to stay at the home because of their own parenting challenges. Just two weeks ago, a mother brought her son to Shiloh with a mixed explanation of his unruly behavior and her own lack of parenting skills. She told him that when his behavior improved he could return home. Her son could not control his temper, often violently reacted to the other kids in the group home and as a result, he was not allowed to play with the other kids, and vice versa. His mom missed a scheduled appointment to drop off his things at Shiloh, only to return a week later to pick him on short notice and bring him home. Grandma and grandpa had convinced her that the little boy belonged at home. The administrators and counselors who run Shiloh had no control because she had retained custody throughout the entire affair.
While returning home was hard for the little boy (he cried, hid in the corner, not wanting to leave), it was also hard for the other kids living there. They had no home to return to and no mother or father to pick them up. This is part of the reality they face.
This year was James’ first back at St. Labre. Living according to the expectations at the dorm was difficult because he had experience many different home environments, including stints in jail. At first, he refused to respond to attendants requests for him to do his chores and make his bed, but slowly he came around. At first, he refused to do any homework in study hall, but then he slowly began to work, even if only in certain subjects. His behavior began to improve and it seemed the dorms were having a positive impact on him. Suddenly, he was gone from school for a week. After ten to fifteen unexcused absences from school students may be dismissed from St. Labre and James was asked to leave. It turns out the week he missed was spent in jail. I don’t know why he went to jail and I don’t know where he was headed after St. Labre. Most likely it will be one of the high schools on the reservation. While St. Labre isn’t perfect, it’s supposedly a much better institution than many of the other schools in the area. I will probably never see or hear from him again and I doubt his future will be easy. Before he left, he was given a heavy winter coat. He didn’t have anything thicker than a t-shirt to wear. This past week, it reached 3 degrees outside.
Last week, I chaperoned a wrestling match for the middle school. At the end of the night, we dropped many of the kids off at their homes. The final kid, Chris, we dropped off at a bar in Ashland. His grandmother worked inside and would take him home after her shift was over. He told me sometimes his family would not eat dinner until 11pm because his grandfather was drunk all the time, so his grandmother would have to work at the bar, and his uncle wouldn’t come home from work until 11 and then he would make dinner. Chris will probably come live in the dorm this next week. There are 70 other students who live at the dorm. Some may have stories and backgrounds similar to his. Some may not.

Tragedy and Hope

Miercoles, 22 Julio 2009

Today was my first day at the clinic in about a week. When I got there, I learned that yesterday there had been a birth in the clinic. The mother had come in very weak. The baby was born feet first and the mother had no strength to push it out. One doctor had to pull on the baby’s legs while a nurse had to apply pressure to the mother’s stomach. The baby was born asphyxiated and purple. It took 4 or 5 minutes before they could get the baby to start breathing. (Lack of oxygen for this long causes serious brain damage that affects one for the rest of their life; from learning to walk to performing in the classroom.) This morning the little girl had a fever (around 39 ºC) when I came in, and after nursing a bottle of warm, purified water (the family couldn’t afford milk) she began to vomit it all back up, a brown mucus along with little bits of blood. We had to put a tube down her throat to her stomach to help siphon out the fluid because she didn’t have the strength to cough it all up. The doctors believe she has an infection from inhaling some of her feces as she was born (hence the brown color…) She fought the fever all day and at times the antibiotics quieted her crying. But, before the end of the day the fever came back and the poor little girl was burning up. The family decided they are going to take her home, while the doctors want her to stay or even go to a hospital. Part of the family’s wish may have to do with money. Dr. Rivas had no idea if the family was going to be able to pay for the medicine and treatment they had received over the past two days. (He also told me that at some clinics, they don’t let the patients leave until the bills are paid. This is not the case at the Clinica Bethesda; his first concern is the well-being of the patient. He figured the Clinica Bethesda has lost 3-4 million quetzals over the past 2-3 years from patients who have not been able to pay. Because of this, the clinic cannot buy the equipment they would like to or improve the clinic as fast They are currently constructing a new operating room, X-ray room, and lab room; the expected completion date is pretty far away.) It is expected that the baby girl will die without the medical care she needs as she has not been able to quit the fever, a sign of the infection she has. As I left the clinic tonight, I saw the father outside waiting to take her home.

While much of my blog has been touched by striking stories of poverty and hardship, there are two stories I wish to share that capture the hope that I have seen (which I also hope has been evident in my reaction to HFPF’s work.) Today I had lunch with a 10 year-old boy named Marcos. Every weekend, Marcos works on the street shining shoes to support his family. He used to do this every day until a woman came down with an HFPF group. While I don’t the name of this woman I do know she changed his life. After asking why he was out on the street and not in school and learning of his story, she ensured a fund was set up so that Marcos could go to school. This fund provides for his uniform, school supplies, and buys him lunch every weekday. We got ice cream after lunch and Marcos told me that he likes school; he eventually wants to go to college to read and ultimately become a professor or teacher.

On our journey to Barillas from Guate, Marco and I stopped along the way at a small aldea. We got out of the car and walked down a muddy path between two houses to get to the residence of Don Sebastian. Don Sebastian is a talented artisan wood carver. When he was young he had some sort of accident or illness and he can no longer walk. Still, through his beautiful craftsmanship and hard work he has put all 5 of his children through school and 3 are teachers. Don Sebastian is a great big man with a soft face and eyes that twinkle when he smiles. His giant hands lovingly carve beautiful figures of the Guatemalan people, capturing their struggle. A woman carrying water on her back or her head, a man hauling a huge load of firewood, a young girl carrying her little sister, wrapped in a shawl on her back.