TITO

My board that I use to get from place to place.

Two houses down, this horse roams around with no fence. Welcome to Costa Rica!

The backyard with a fixed up fence so that no one can come get me!

Wild watermelon growing... what a symbol of hope.

Rebecca on the beach collecting hermit crabs.

Crab in the house!

May 16

7AM

            In an effort to befriend the adults for their respect and permission to build relationships with their children, I have become closer with Berta. She is the grandma of many of the children and wife of the man that rapes them. In the States this would sound formidable but here in Jaco, it is typical.

            One of the young boys, Tito, has the most aggressive temper I have ever seen. He must be about five years old and his fists are his first approach at everything. The first day I was at the Rancho, I was struck by his violence and the rocks that he would throw in my direction for no reason. Yesterday, when I arrived he was smiling happily; I told him how proud I was that he seemed so nice and happy and he just smiled at me. In my naïve mind, I thought, wow, look at the difference that can be made in just a few days. All he needed was a friend. But within moments, I had met his mother, a skinny woman with a tight hand-me-down Abercrombie shirt.  Her toenails painted but not cut, and her laugh is loud and boisterous. As Tito approached her to show off a toy truck he had found that was missing wheels and a door but still a treasure to him, he tripped and fell in her direction. Rather than picking him up and brushing off the dirt, his mother kicked him until he got off the ground; Tito began to cry. She then yelled at him until he walked away and sat down in the dirt about twenty feet away. He sobbed as he piled rocks for reserve when people walked by.

            I was torn. I didn’t want to undermine the relationships I was trying to build with the women and therefore defeat the purpose of befriending them. However, at the same time there was a little boy crying because his own mother had just abused him. So I sat for two minutes and considered my next move. Luckily, as I wondered what to do, the mother walked away and I was quick to see if I could help him. It was then that I realized all the rocks he had piled up were a defense against whoever was going to walk in his direction. With two stones to the head and one welt on my arm, I realized that I was dealing with something much more than a temperamental toddler. This boy is broken and his mother’s beatings and his grandfather raping him are not putting any of his pieces back together.

            I braved through the rocks and sat next to him and he buried his stained cheeks in his hands. I reached to rub his back and he screamed so I pulled back again and just sat. Helpless is just about the only word I could use to explain how I felt. I was helpless in his defense against his mother, I was helpless in soothing him, the whole situation was overwhelming. Growing up, I have learned that if you find power in being assertive and are just and loving, things work out. This situation has seemed to challenge my core beliefs. No matter how much love I show this boy, no matter if I stick to my moral compass, and no matter if I remain assertive when standing up for my beliefs, change seems so far away. Life in Jaco has become a balancing act between doing the right thing and protecting myself as well. I can’t put myself in danger with aggressive parents by helping Tito because then I won’t be here to serve him.

            Today, I am headed back down to the River and I hope that I will be able to shower him with more love and show the parents that a little bit of love can go a long way. The more I have thought about the whole situation, I have realized that as helpless as I do feel sometimes, respecting other’s inherent dignity with the showering of my own love is the only way to motivate change.

            During the nights in Costa Rica the rain crashes harder than I have ever seen. At 85˚, I welcome the rain while the locals run indoors. Just the difference in how we handle the rain is evidence of the difference in reactions between the locals and myself. Today marks the day that I not only welcome the rain, but I welcome the cruelty that is easy to find here in Jaco, I welcome the love that I know is deep down inside Tito, and I welcome the cruel shells that mask the beauty beneath the parents. Unlike the locals that run from the showers, I will seek refuge in them, the rain has become part of me, and the rain will help wash away all the pain and suffering that contain these people.

11:30 AM

            Just got back from el Rio. I spent most of my time coloring with the children. Tito came up to me and gave me a big hug and asked if he could draw too. I found that if I made sure to check in with him every two minutes or so, he knew he was being paid attention to and so he didn’t get mad. He only lost his temper twice today; it was amazing. This afternoon, some of the older boys are going to head over to the beach and teach me to play soccer. They are very excited and I am a little anxious; soccer has never been my best sport! I planned on bringing my camera to el Rio today but once I got there, it felt so heavy in my backpack that the timing I just thought may be off. I am going to wait a few more days. I really want this community to trust me before I invade their space with a camera.