I have been in Santiago for about a week now and am quickly beginning to feel more comfortable in this massive city.  My first weekend was spent with Elodie, a French girl who is also working through VE Global.  Over the weekend, we wandered around the city, desperately trying to keep up with Chilean Spanish.  My Spanish is hardly impressive as is it, but Chilean Spanish manages to demote my already low standing.  In addition to speaking some of the fastest Spanish in the world, Chileans use a lot of slang and also tend to leave off certain sounds of their words, while adding others on at the end. My Spanish needs much improvement and it is extremely frustrating to not understand what is going on around you, but I feel much more in tune with my surroundings--always listening, watching, absorbing as much as I can.  

All of the VE directors and current volunteers have been extremely welcoming and have offered us so much advice and support, as well as delicious, home cooked meals throughout the week.  Our orientation training began on Monday, during which we have been learning about the institutions we will work in, learning styles and effective education, Chilean history, food and slang, health and safety, the ins and outs of fundraising and marketing, among other charlas. On Thursday, we visited Parque por la Paz, which is a commemorative site of resistance victims during Pinochet's dictatorship.  During the 70s, over four thousand men and women were imprisoned and tortured at Villa Grimaldi-- it was a very moving experience to be there, in the place where so much injustice occurred.  The site has been filled with various art installations, monuments and gardens to honor those who were lost. I find it so hard to believe how recently these events took place.  Unreal.    

Thursday, I visited Mi Club Domingo Savio, which is where I will be working for the next four months.  Steve Reifenberg, a former volunteer during the eighties, actually wrote a book about his experience at Domingo Savio, which at the time was an orphanage Domingo Savio is now a community center in La Granja, a very poor area in south Santiago.  There are between forty and fifty children aged 5 to 16, all from low-income backgrounds, who come to the center after school and stay until about 7:30pm.  Domingo Savio works to keep these kids away from and out of risky and dangerous environments in their homes and throughout the community.  Problems with substance abuse and family violence are extremely prevalent in these areas.  When I visited on Thursday, I quickly began working with the oldest kids, who were in the middle of a math lesson.  It was extremely intimidating and overwhelming to be tossed right into it all, but I was able to engage and work with one of the oldest girls on her remaining problems.  This felt like an accomplishment-- not only because I haven't done long division since high school, but because I was able to offer her feedback and help her understand where she may have gone wrong in her solving process.  Again, my Spanish is limited, but my listening is developing quickly and I hope that speaking with confidence will soon follow.

To read the english translation click here.

Hier bin ich, in Santiago de Chile. Plötzlich finde ich mich am Ende meines Freiwilligen Dienstes. Die vier Monate mit VE sind wie im Flug vergangen. Auf einmal heißt es „Tschüß-sagen“. VE hat mich zwar -wie immer- in zwei Seminaren sehr gut vorbereitet, aber der Abschied ist trotzdem hart für mich. In unserem wöchentlich stattfindenden Dienstags-Meeting lernte ich, wie ich mich von den Kindern im Hogar (Heim) wieder trennen kann, ohne sie zu verwirren oder verletzen. Dabei ist es wichtig, Gefühle von abandono (Verlassen werden) bei den Kindern zu vermeiden, ihnen das eigene Weggehen gut zu erklären. Auch über den Reverse Culture Shock wurde ich aufgeklärt, dem Phänomen eines Kulturschocks bei der Rückkehr aus einer fremden Kultur in die eigene Heimat (Noch freue ich mich darauf). Und obwohl meine Fragen, schon bevor sie gestellt wurden, beantwortet und auf meine Ängste eingegangen wurde, bleibt es allzu schwierig, dieses Leben, das ich hier als Volunteer führe, zu verlassen.

Es ist ein so buntes und aufregendes Leben.

Sich immer neuen und unterschiedlichsten Herausforderungen stellen.  Neue interessante Leute aus aller Welt kennenlernen. Zwischen Spanisch, Englisch und Deutsch herum switchen, alles vermischend, möglichst viele neue Vokabeln aufschnappend. Immer wieder überrascht sein von den Chilenen und ihren Eigenarten.

Es war eine tolle Zeit. An den Wochenenden bin ich viel herum gereist, um möglichst viel von Chile, Land und Leuten, kennenzulernen. Es gab immer soviel zu tun. Abends ging es spät ins Bett, weil noch etwas Neues, Interessantes  in der Stadt erkundet werden musste, morgens musste ich um 6.00 Uhr raus, um pünktlich ab 8.00 Uhr anfangen zu können, mit den Kindern zu spielen und sie zu versorgen.

Wir haben mit der Freiwilligengruppe eine Fundraising Aktion gestartet, um mehr Geld für Programme für die Kinder zusammen zu bekommen. Das hat auch gut geklappt.

Wir haben dann die Programme organisiert und stattfinden lassen.  Ich habe zum Beispiel einen Basketball taller (Workshop) für 30 Kinder aus sieben unterschiedlichen Heimen geleitet. Außerdem habe ich ein kleines Leseprojekt angefangen:

Ich habe angefangen, den Kindern aus meinem Hogar  lesen beizubringen. Ich verabschiede mich von den Babys, den Kindern, die mir so ans Herz gewachsen sind, von meinen neugewonnenen Freunden und nicht zuletzt von dieser  kleinen non-profit Organisation (VE Global), die mir diese wundervolle Erfahrung ermöglicht hat.  

The big question: So, how was Chile?

As I’m getting ready to leave Chile in just a few days, I keep coming back to one thought. How am I ever going to be able to explain this journey over the past 8 months to any one back at home? For the next month or so people will ask…. How was Chile? Where do I even begin? Of course, I will eventually come up with a quick few worded answer, but for those who really want the whole story here is where I would start….

Chile was amazing. I traveled to a country that I really did not know much about only to fall in love with it. I worked in Hogar San Francisco with 27 amazing girls. We jumped on trampolines, played barbies, made cookies and cakes, made animal noses and macaroni wreathes, read books in silly voices, talked about boys, talked about their first crushes at school and danced for hours to Disney songs. On top of that, I met amazing new friends from all over the world and traveled all over South America seeing some of the most beautiful places in the world.

Chile was hard. It was the first time I was away from home for this long and the first time I lived in a non-English speaking country. I had to learn how to get around a new (and huge) city and how to think in Spanish. I worked in a hogar in the broken system of Chile’s abandoned and abused children. We had problems tossed at us on a daily basis that often were over my head, but we had to deal with things quickly and try to find a solution. I had to try to manage these 27 crazy girls and help them to get their homework done, go to doctors offices or something as simple as eat lunch, while half of the time they refused to listen to me, called me names, kicked me, hit me, or just plain ignored me.

Chile was emotional. I walked in to this hogar not knowing one person there and came out with my heart over flowing with love for each and every girl. While there were days, where I couldn’t wait to leave at 6:00, they were then followed by days where I thought I could never imagine ever leaving this place and this family.  I realized one day my purse was suddenly full of glitter, crayons, dirty Kleenex, a few toys, pop up books and candy. I constantly was showing photos of “my girls” to all of my friends and family everyday. I began to feel like a mother to them and would notice how I missed them when I was away and felt so protective over each and every one of them. When they smiled I was happy, when they cried all I thought was how I could take away their sadness and change their situation in life. 

Chile was life changing. My life will be forever changed because of the past 8 months I have lived in Santiago. These amazing girls have changed my heart forever. I can hear their laughs and see their smiling faces, each one of them so different. I think about what their lives will be like one day and what journeys they will have of their own. They have taught me patience, unconditional love, and above all the importance of laughter and a simple hug. They have changed the way I look at the world and what I value. I’m sure there’s about a million more things that I have learned or ways that I have changed because of this experience that I won’t even be able to see for quite some time.

In the end it’s been a journey too large to even try and wrap my head around or to try to explain it all to someone.In time, some of the memories may fade, but I know I will be forever changed by the adventures, the tears, the laughter, the friendships and the love that I experienced during these crazy 8 months in Chile. 

9 more pictures after the jump

Twice a year VE puts on a talent/art show for all of the institutions. Everyone submits a bunch of artwork and the kids have a chance to perform. They can dance, sing, or play an instrument. The artwork and the performances are all judged and some of the kids get prizes. It was such a fun night, and I’m so happy that I got to experience it!

All the performances were so great! It was really awesome to see all of the girls show everyone their artistic talents. All of the artwork was so creative, and I really enjoyed looking at it all. Some of my girls ended up dancing to a Miley Cyrus song that I taught them a few months ago, which made me so happy and was so exciting to see them perform!

To start off the show, a group of volunteers performed a dance. The kids loved it! Then, after all the girls did their performances, another group of volunteers danced to a Spanish song (I was in this group). Right before we started dancing, all my girls started to chant my name; it was sooo cute!

After snack time the judges gave out the prizes. My girls won a prize for the Miley Cyrus dance!!! I was so proud of them and they were very excited to win. Three of my girls won prizes for some of their artwork and another girl won a prize for a poem she wrote. It was so great to be able to experience Festival with my girls. I wish there could be more for me to attend; I really enjoyed seeing my girls be so proud of themselves.

I have never felt so proud of anyone like I did with my girls. It was a new feeling for me. I felt like a proud mama bear. It was interesting for me to see how I reacted to everything; it gave me a small glance into the future on the type of mom I’m going to be. I will definitely be the mom taking a TON of pictures of EVERYTHING and recording EVERY performance. And I’m pretty sure I will most definitely embarrass my kids…all the time.

8 more photos after the jump

"Soy Yo" red construction paper with colored pencils 

Coming from the United States, the sports that people think of as relevant and important do not always reflect the opinion of the rest of the world on the same matter. Here in Chile, they tend to be more in line with the rest of the world, but are not without their quirks.

When someone from another part of the world contemplates what sports are enjoyed in South America, the first thing that comes to mind is obviously football (soccer), which in Chile's case would be the correct assumption. The children here are indoctrinated from an early age into the all-encompassing world of football, and they couldn't be happier about that. Some of the best conversations to witness between the children are when, even the youngest of them, argue with fervor about which Santiago-based team is the best. This adoration for their team also translates into how they play the game themselves. The intensity with which they play, and especially celebrate goals and victories, is very similar to what you would see on a professional level. Coupled with this motivation they possess, is an amazing amount of skill. This no doubt stems from playing the game much more than, say, in the United States, and from such an early age.

Aside from their expected love of soccer, they have a lesser-known passion. This passion is for the ancient art of ping-pong. This sport may not seem like the average South American pastime, but it is beloved by children and adults alike in Chile. One of the best things about ping-pong is, if you are tall enough to see above the table, you are able to begin to learn how to play. This results in some talented older children who would give any adult a run for their money.

The children of the VE institutions have an incredible athletic appetite, which is not only limited to the sports with which they are familiar. They are capable and excited about trying many new sports introduced by volunteers such as North American football, which they took to with surprising ease. All in all, the children that VE Global work with love sports, are incredible at picking them up, playing them with skill, and demonstrating how to engage in them with inspiring passion.

Almost seven months ago I landed in the Santiago airport and the reigning emotion was panic. I didn’t know my address in Chile for the immigration papers. That, and I was about to become a daily fixture in the lives of 30 girls, some my own age, none of whom spoke my language, all with histories of sexual abuse, domestic violence, neglect, and poverty.

Last night I sat cozy in a bunk bed with two little girls in nightgowns and their elephant puppets. One of the girls played with my hair, the other rested her head on my lap. One silly comment led to another and soon we weren’t in the hogar but in a fantasyland that starred their elefantitos. We took turns story-telling so that the plot was a series of wild twists. Giggles took over, that level of giggles only achievable by overtired 8 year olds. Eventually the laughter lost to heavy eyelids, and the girls were fast asleep, their little limbs fastened around me. 

During September and October the initial panic subsided, giving way to other emotions. All were equally as electric and consuming. I felt frustration at my impression of the hogar’s attitude towards the girls’ struggles in school and their passivity in preparing the older girls for the day when they’d need to find their own footing outside the hogar. I felt utter helplessness at the lack of prospects for the girls’ futures. These feelings were underlain by a deep guilt in the injustice that I’ve never need doubt my security, that next year I’ll go to college, and that I have the unconditional love and support of a stable family.

I was turning over questions I couldn’t answer: How do I console a three year old crying out for the mommy she hasn’t seen in months? How do I talk to a five year old who just woke up from a nightmare of flashbacks to dark scenes from her past? How do I show these teenagers that getting pregnant need not be their path to fulfillment, when higher education isn’t a feasible option? And even if I read every story in the world to this 10 year old, will she ever be able to identify letters, read on her own, graduate high school, or manage a sustainable lifestyle? Or will she meet this society’s expectations and end up like her mom, on the street, reliant on drugs?

Though weeks and months have gone by, I haven’t resolved much with respect to these jumbly questions. Instead, an additional gut-wrenching question has begun to challenge me: No matter how much I love these girls, and no matter how much they love me, is any amount of love enough to help them sort out the cards they’ve been dealt? Can emotional support alone make change, or are there overriding problems here only reparable by money and physical means that I’m unable to provide?

It’s difficult to feel confident that the girls will benefit long-term from my time with them. Still, sometime between a million temper tantrums and a million and one hugs, I formed some of the most loving, reciprocal relationships of my life.

As leaving becomes a reality, I think about the things I’ll miss most: being spoken to exclusively in Chilean gibberish Monday through Friday; skipping, by mandate, hand in hand, all ten blocks to the psychologist; dancing like goofy goobers in the comedor (dining room) before dinner; sharing my thoughts on the pros and cons of every last box of hair dye at the drugstore; sitting with the older girls in the bed of the infamous flat-tired truck, belting out their favorite English song, I Will Always Love You (more recently with pauses to mourn Whitney’s death). But mostly, I’ll miss hearing about days at school, pololos (boyfriends) and ex-pololos (ex-boyfriends), celebrating the good stuff and figuring out the tough stuff.

At times I had trouble determining my role at the hogar. Since many of the girls are so close to my age, I wasn’t always a caretaker. The girls, with each other, seem to take on all the familial roles that they’re missing. They correct each other, wipe away each other’s tears, and stand up for each other with some fierce loyalty. They are their own moms, dads, and siblings, and together they weave their only accountable safety net. When my family visited in December, one of the girls pressed her cheek up against mine and said to my mom, “Tia Bri is my big sister. Don’t we look alike?” In time, I’ve become no more, but no less, than another member of their alternative family.

So, soon I’ll go home to Dedham, Massachusetts, with a head full of impossible questions about this world we live in, and a heart heavy with concern for what life has in store for my girls. But after seven months, my prevailing feeling is just the opposite of panic. It’s one I never imagined I’d feel thousands of miles from my own family, and it greets me with besitos (kisses) every time I walk into the hogar – the profound comfort of home.