Friday, January 06, 2006
Out on the town
Never a dull moment in prison...I will say that. Today, the entire set of volunteers still living in my house (about to shrink more from 10 to 5...tomorrow) piled in our minibus van and traveled to prison. Unlike the day that we entered as a pack for the Christmas party, we planned to go inside to strictly pick up the children. That is right...today was outing day and we were taking the kids on an adventure, as had been done for them on most other Fridays of the year (aside from the other two we have been here for, which were basically considered holidays).
Merly, my ten month old friend, was outfitted in her fancy pink dress and bonnet, lacey ruffle socks, and white saddle shoes (that looked more grey). Willy wore his denim overalls, which had definetely been washed for the ocassion, and carried a blue rocketship lunchbox on a red strap around his neck, holding three mango juiceboxes (we were only leaving for a few hours...did his mother really think that he would be THAT thirsty?). Christian wore his special red Winnie the Pooh hat, with an embroidered figure that looks nothing like Winnie the Pooh. Jorge was outfitted in some kind of interesting army fatigues, complete with a green borae (I have no idea how to spell the French hat...but you catch my drift), which I had never seen the 1-year-old wear previously.
Obviously, these kids were ready and raring to go, and their mothers were exstatic that we were there and going to take them outside. I held Merly in one arm, and held Nick by the other hand, when a group of women working on emroidery (mind you, none of them have children inside) called me over. Since I can actually carry a conversation in Spanish, I was able to follow their words as they asked me if I was planning to take any of the children back to my country with me. I told them that I do really like children, but no, I think they are better off with their mothers. They argued with me a little, and told me that I should take some of the kids, since they would have a good life in the United States. That was when I had to tell them that I do not have a job, I am going to school (which is not exactly true), and that my mother told me that I cannot have children right now (also...not exactly true...but I mean, might as well be). As soon as I mentioned my mom, they let it go. Phew...thank goodness for Sandy Soifer.
After that, the possee of volunteers and children (which at the point had been adjusted to a 1 to 1 ratio) left the prison. Of course, there were a few tears, since for all these kids know we were actually taking them away from their mothers permanently and the outside world is something they hardly/never have to comprehend (and forget about strangers...way too scary). But, out we went. I had Nick (the traditional discipline problem), my friend who has a cleft palette and as a result, has extremely impaired speech. As we drove away from the prison, he pointed to every, single animal we saw and would yell, WOW WOW WOW WOW, which is actually the only thing he can say, other than agua and mas (water and more). Since he was sitting on my lap, and on the ride to and from prison consists of a long path of small huts sprinkled with tons of cows, stray dogs, and lambs, Nick really had many opportunities to let me know that there was a WOW WOW WOW WOW outside. And, I smiled each time (you would have too).
Our destination was the central Ayacucho market (1 of about 50 markets), or mercado, where hundreds of people work each day, selling fruits, veggies, flowers, cheese, nuts, and of course, live and recently slaughtered, bloody animals (my personal favorite). We walked in a long line, slowly, each volunteer tightly grasping the hand of each child (or as Nick preferred, plain, old, on the hip carrying). We passed cages holding 50 live, squalking chickens, pidgeons, and roosters, and screeching guinea pigs. Every so often, one of the birds would fly in the air a little bit, and the kids would open thier eyes wide enough to shrink their foreheads, and open their mouths to shout (you guessed it...Nick used this as his additional opportunity to yell, WOW WOW WOW WOW) (I continued to laugh and laugh).
As we asked the kids what certain objects or colors were, and they mostly did not know (except Willy is convinced that every, single animal is a horse...I am going to work on that), the women and men in the market started to take note of our little caravan. Each of us started to get questioned if the kids were ours. One indigenious women, dressed in the traditional Qechua skirt, manta, and hat, angerily questioned our native program coordinator, Marisol, what we doing. She told her that she thought is was rediculous that we had all adopted these children and were taking them away. We explained to her, as we did with the others who posed questions, that we are volunteers and that these children live with their mothers in prison. Suddenly, before we could really notice, many of the men, women, and children who had been wandering or working in the market were following us. We had attracted a lot of attention.
Once we were leaving the market, we piled into our mini bus and waved to the assembled followers (one of the kids asked me if he and his infant sister -carried in his 10-year-old arms- could come with us, and I had to nicely tell him that we could not take more people) as we pulled away. We continued on to the main plaza of Ayacucho, where I spend a lot of time on my own. It is full of people, shops, churches, and park in the center. We took the kids into the main church, because the doors were open, and we wanted to go inside. There was a humungous mass going on in Spanish, with a large crowd and clergy dressed in white robes. We stood in the back, where people casually walked in and out and talked (so we were not disturbing in any way). The kids wanted to see the nativity display this church had near the entrance, complete with a small waterfall (which was the real draw). Every place in this country (being a Catholic country and all) has a nativity display, which they are only now starting to break down. The kids recognized this from prison, where they have quite a few still in tact. Again, Willy told me all about how all the animals watching Jesus were horses. Laughing, I told him that he was right...I mean, they were animals.
Next we had the highlight of the outing...we bought the kids ice cream. Sitting out on the plaza, watching the pidgeons come and go (and the kids like to chase them...as they do when the pidgeons land inside the walls of prison), each child recieved one creamsicle. Now, today was about 90 degrees and sunny, so you can imagine that more of the creamsicles ended up on the clothing, hands, and cheeks of the kids than in their mouths, but they still were rediculously happy. I imagine that they had not had ice cream since the last time volunteers took the kids out...three weeks ago. And, I could recognize in the extra enthusiastic WOW WOW WOW WOW from Nick that this was quite a treat.
12 ice creams and a myriad of napkins later, we again hopped into our mini bus to return to prison. When the kids were returned to their mothers, some were happy, most were messy, and a few had more tears, because they had to say goodbye to us. When I let go of Nick, and he ran to his mom, she immediately brought him back to me. She asked him to give me a kiss, and he did, and when I stood up, she pulled me in for a hug. Into my ear, she whispered, gracias, mi amor (thank you, my love).
When we left prison and headed back to our house for lunch, my mind remained focused on the faces and voices of those children. We had such a great day, and the kids were so well behaved. Everything was perfect. That was when Marisol told us that she learned that Suzie, the mother of Pierro (one of the boys), spent the time we were otuside crying. As it turns out, Pierro just celebrated his 3rd birthday, and the prison refuses to give him food anymore. Apparently, the kids can stay inside with their mothers past their 3rd birthday, but the prison refuses to supply them with government food. The older children are strictly fed by the products from their mothers, and that is only when their mothers can afford it. So, Suzie cried, because she cannot afford to keep her son with her, inside. A shadow was cast on my day when I learned that sometime next week, Pierro would no longer be happily playing with the other kids, sitting on a blanket with his mother, or hugging my knees upon my entry each morning; Since Suzie does not know how much longer she will be inside, Pierro will be sent to live with his relatives in either Lima or an area of Ayacucho.
I know that I am not here to change the system or make some revolutionary adjustments to the way of life of these incarcerated women and children. But, I am here to make some kind of a difference, and make sure that something inside has been made better because of my contribution. So, if Pierro has to go, I will say goodbye; and when I do, I will remember his smiling face from today, crusted with sticky orange and white remnants of ice cream. I will have to say goodbye to them all eventually, I know, as I move on to volunteer in Lima, travel, and return to the States. But, I have a feeling that I will spend the rest of my life wondering what will happen to them, these women and children. At least I know that there is always the next two weeks, and a couple more outings.
Merly, my ten month old friend, was outfitted in her fancy pink dress and bonnet, lacey ruffle socks, and white saddle shoes (that looked more grey). Willy wore his denim overalls, which had definetely been washed for the ocassion, and carried a blue rocketship lunchbox on a red strap around his neck, holding three mango juiceboxes (we were only leaving for a few hours...did his mother really think that he would be THAT thirsty?). Christian wore his special red Winnie the Pooh hat, with an embroidered figure that looks nothing like Winnie the Pooh. Jorge was outfitted in some kind of interesting army fatigues, complete with a green borae (I have no idea how to spell the French hat...but you catch my drift), which I had never seen the 1-year-old wear previously.
Obviously, these kids were ready and raring to go, and their mothers were exstatic that we were there and going to take them outside. I held Merly in one arm, and held Nick by the other hand, when a group of women working on emroidery (mind you, none of them have children inside) called me over. Since I can actually carry a conversation in Spanish, I was able to follow their words as they asked me if I was planning to take any of the children back to my country with me. I told them that I do really like children, but no, I think they are better off with their mothers. They argued with me a little, and told me that I should take some of the kids, since they would have a good life in the United States. That was when I had to tell them that I do not have a job, I am going to school (which is not exactly true), and that my mother told me that I cannot have children right now (also...not exactly true...but I mean, might as well be). As soon as I mentioned my mom, they let it go. Phew...thank goodness for Sandy Soifer.
After that, the possee of volunteers and children (which at the point had been adjusted to a 1 to 1 ratio) left the prison. Of course, there were a few tears, since for all these kids know we were actually taking them away from their mothers permanently and the outside world is something they hardly/never have to comprehend (and forget about strangers...way too scary). But, out we went. I had Nick (the traditional discipline problem), my friend who has a cleft palette and as a result, has extremely impaired speech. As we drove away from the prison, he pointed to every, single animal we saw and would yell, WOW WOW WOW WOW, which is actually the only thing he can say, other than agua and mas (water and more). Since he was sitting on my lap, and on the ride to and from prison consists of a long path of small huts sprinkled with tons of cows, stray dogs, and lambs, Nick really had many opportunities to let me know that there was a WOW WOW WOW WOW outside. And, I smiled each time (you would have too).
Our destination was the central Ayacucho market (1 of about 50 markets), or mercado, where hundreds of people work each day, selling fruits, veggies, flowers, cheese, nuts, and of course, live and recently slaughtered, bloody animals (my personal favorite). We walked in a long line, slowly, each volunteer tightly grasping the hand of each child (or as Nick preferred, plain, old, on the hip carrying). We passed cages holding 50 live, squalking chickens, pidgeons, and roosters, and screeching guinea pigs. Every so often, one of the birds would fly in the air a little bit, and the kids would open thier eyes wide enough to shrink their foreheads, and open their mouths to shout (you guessed it...Nick used this as his additional opportunity to yell, WOW WOW WOW WOW) (I continued to laugh and laugh).
As we asked the kids what certain objects or colors were, and they mostly did not know (except Willy is convinced that every, single animal is a horse...I am going to work on that), the women and men in the market started to take note of our little caravan. Each of us started to get questioned if the kids were ours. One indigenious women, dressed in the traditional Qechua skirt, manta, and hat, angerily questioned our native program coordinator, Marisol, what we doing. She told her that she thought is was rediculous that we had all adopted these children and were taking them away. We explained to her, as we did with the others who posed questions, that we are volunteers and that these children live with their mothers in prison. Suddenly, before we could really notice, many of the men, women, and children who had been wandering or working in the market were following us. We had attracted a lot of attention.
Once we were leaving the market, we piled into our mini bus and waved to the assembled followers (one of the kids asked me if he and his infant sister -carried in his 10-year-old arms- could come with us, and I had to nicely tell him that we could not take more people) as we pulled away. We continued on to the main plaza of Ayacucho, where I spend a lot of time on my own. It is full of people, shops, churches, and park in the center. We took the kids into the main church, because the doors were open, and we wanted to go inside. There was a humungous mass going on in Spanish, with a large crowd and clergy dressed in white robes. We stood in the back, where people casually walked in and out and talked (so we were not disturbing in any way). The kids wanted to see the nativity display this church had near the entrance, complete with a small waterfall (which was the real draw). Every place in this country (being a Catholic country and all) has a nativity display, which they are only now starting to break down. The kids recognized this from prison, where they have quite a few still in tact. Again, Willy told me all about how all the animals watching Jesus were horses. Laughing, I told him that he was right...I mean, they were animals.
Next we had the highlight of the outing...we bought the kids ice cream. Sitting out on the plaza, watching the pidgeons come and go (and the kids like to chase them...as they do when the pidgeons land inside the walls of prison), each child recieved one creamsicle. Now, today was about 90 degrees and sunny, so you can imagine that more of the creamsicles ended up on the clothing, hands, and cheeks of the kids than in their mouths, but they still were rediculously happy. I imagine that they had not had ice cream since the last time volunteers took the kids out...three weeks ago. And, I could recognize in the extra enthusiastic WOW WOW WOW WOW from Nick that this was quite a treat.
12 ice creams and a myriad of napkins later, we again hopped into our mini bus to return to prison. When the kids were returned to their mothers, some were happy, most were messy, and a few had more tears, because they had to say goodbye to us. When I let go of Nick, and he ran to his mom, she immediately brought him back to me. She asked him to give me a kiss, and he did, and when I stood up, she pulled me in for a hug. Into my ear, she whispered, gracias, mi amor (thank you, my love).
When we left prison and headed back to our house for lunch, my mind remained focused on the faces and voices of those children. We had such a great day, and the kids were so well behaved. Everything was perfect. That was when Marisol told us that she learned that Suzie, the mother of Pierro (one of the boys), spent the time we were otuside crying. As it turns out, Pierro just celebrated his 3rd birthday, and the prison refuses to give him food anymore. Apparently, the kids can stay inside with their mothers past their 3rd birthday, but the prison refuses to supply them with government food. The older children are strictly fed by the products from their mothers, and that is only when their mothers can afford it. So, Suzie cried, because she cannot afford to keep her son with her, inside. A shadow was cast on my day when I learned that sometime next week, Pierro would no longer be happily playing with the other kids, sitting on a blanket with his mother, or hugging my knees upon my entry each morning; Since Suzie does not know how much longer she will be inside, Pierro will be sent to live with his relatives in either Lima or an area of Ayacucho.
I know that I am not here to change the system or make some revolutionary adjustments to the way of life of these incarcerated women and children. But, I am here to make some kind of a difference, and make sure that something inside has been made better because of my contribution. So, if Pierro has to go, I will say goodbye; and when I do, I will remember his smiling face from today, crusted with sticky orange and white remnants of ice cream. I will have to say goodbye to them all eventually, I know, as I move on to volunteer in Lima, travel, and return to the States. But, I have a feeling that I will spend the rest of my life wondering what will happen to them, these women and children. At least I know that there is always the next two weeks, and a couple more outings.
# posted by Marci Soifer @ 2:20 PM 
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Dear Halie,
Quite a response...thank you. I´m glad you liked it...I was late to dinner cause I spent so long writing that one (haha---totally worth it). You are so funny, working and working on grad school apps to the point of illness. What will it be like once you actually get admitted? And, over here, in the land of CNN in Spanish, I too am pretty much obsessed with getting Sharon updates that I understand.
To answer your question, the women inside do not have access to the markets at all. They are stuck inside, and whatever products they sell to one another or can consume themselves are because they generated some income or because their family brought things inside for them. However, Pierro´s mother does not have family who brings her goods and she does not create enough income to pay the 18 sole tax each month (required of every prisoner), pay for products to make more income (knitting and embroidering, ect.), AND pay for a constant flow of food for Pierro. Thus, she has to send him out. She doesn´t even know when she will be released.
It is the kind of thing that I understand, but makes me incredibly upset as well. On the other hand, I am brought back to an intial concern, which is...should children really be in prison anyway? I don´t know the answer...sometimes I think absolutely, but I´m not sure.
Thanks, Hay, you are not so bad yourself. You should, as I would encourage anyone who possibly could, come visit. It is a nice thought...and you would love it, not to mention everything you could see and do. I go to Lima on January 22. And, my traveling begins on March 12. That is the part that I invite and encourage all to join in for...Machu Picchu is first on the list. And then, I´m open to where I may end up...and with whom (you? someone else who is reading this? your friend who is in South America, should you have one?). Let me know.
Much love, and again, many thanks,
Marci
Quite a response...thank you. I´m glad you liked it...I was late to dinner cause I spent so long writing that one (haha---totally worth it). You are so funny, working and working on grad school apps to the point of illness. What will it be like once you actually get admitted? And, over here, in the land of CNN in Spanish, I too am pretty much obsessed with getting Sharon updates that I understand.
To answer your question, the women inside do not have access to the markets at all. They are stuck inside, and whatever products they sell to one another or can consume themselves are because they generated some income or because their family brought things inside for them. However, Pierro´s mother does not have family who brings her goods and she does not create enough income to pay the 18 sole tax each month (required of every prisoner), pay for products to make more income (knitting and embroidering, ect.), AND pay for a constant flow of food for Pierro. Thus, she has to send him out. She doesn´t even know when she will be released.
It is the kind of thing that I understand, but makes me incredibly upset as well. On the other hand, I am brought back to an intial concern, which is...should children really be in prison anyway? I don´t know the answer...sometimes I think absolutely, but I´m not sure.
Thanks, Hay, you are not so bad yourself. You should, as I would encourage anyone who possibly could, come visit. It is a nice thought...and you would love it, not to mention everything you could see and do. I go to Lima on January 22. And, my traveling begins on March 12. That is the part that I invite and encourage all to join in for...Machu Picchu is first on the list. And then, I´m open to where I may end up...and with whom (you? someone else who is reading this? your friend who is in South America, should you have one?). Let me know.
Much love, and again, many thanks,
Marci
Thanks, Mom. You have tapped right into why I am here (that mostly, but also because one day, Pierro and his mother, as well as some of the other women and children I am getting to know, will make it into my stories). And, you have nothing to worry about, I am honestly declaring that there will be no children at this time, and I knew that you would agree when I told the women that little lie.
I am glad that you both liked this entry so much...I promise to keep them coming.
I miss you too, Marci
I am glad that you both liked this entry so much...I promise to keep them coming.
I miss you too, Marci
Andrew,
Thanks for your comments and observations. It´s true...the happiness of these children is constantly a temporary state, but I am also hoping that my work will give them something that they can hold onto. Even today when I brought in the story of Snow White to read to them (called ¨Blancanieves¨here) and watched them in a trance listening, since I know that they are almost never read to. I am grateful to these children and mothers for allowing me in to their lives, for these few weeks.
And, thanks for filling me in the details of Halie´s trials. Classic.
Love, Marci
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Thanks for your comments and observations. It´s true...the happiness of these children is constantly a temporary state, but I am also hoping that my work will give them something that they can hold onto. Even today when I brought in the story of Snow White to read to them (called ¨Blancanieves¨here) and watched them in a trance listening, since I know that they are almost never read to. I am grateful to these children and mothers for allowing me in to their lives, for these few weeks.
And, thanks for filling me in the details of Halie´s trials. Classic.
Love, Marci
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