By Allison Hoffman
VE Volunteer from Pennsylvania, USA
I’m not sure when it happened. Maybe when I returned from vacation, walked into the big blue house that is Promesa, and was greeted by shouts of “Tía Al-ee-sohn!” and big hugs and kisses, and it dawned on me how much I missed my girls over that 10-day period. Or maybe it was when a sixteen-year-old gave me a siempre amigas necklace with our names engraved on the back for my birthday, and told me that, to her, I’m not just a tía, I’m a friend. Or maybe it was finally breaking through the hard shell of a 5-year-old who refused to give me the traditional Chilean kiss on the cheek as I came and went nearly every day for 6 months. Who I was convinced hated my guts despite all my attempts to get on her good side. But who one day threw her arms around me and whispered that I was her tía favorita. Whatever it was, it dawned on me not so long ago that I absolutely adore the girls at hogar Promesa.
It’s not just the occasional nice things these girls say or do that brought on this adoration. It’s being with them nearly every day, good days and bad days, school days and vacation days, birthdays and holidays, pool days and beach days, and those plain old normal and downright dull days. It’s seeing them at their worst and seeing them at their best. Take the 8-year-old who throws some of the worst tantrums I’ve ever seen, screams at the top of her lungs like a toddler, throws whatever is in her path, and threatens to run away (climbing over the tall iron fence and marching down the busy Santiago street to prove to you she’s not kidding). Yet this is the same girl who will quietly take your hand, ask you to sit next to her at lunch, lean her head on your shoulder, and look up at you with these big, beautiful brown eyes that assure you she loves you, despite all the times you may have thought the opposite.
Considering what these young girls have had to deal with – physical abuse, sexual abuse, extreme poverty and neglect – it shouldn’t have come as any surprise that I would witness some intense ranges of behavior. Regardless, I’ll admit I was overwhelmed in the beginning, walking out of that big blue house every day emotionally and physically drained, and taken over by thoughts of “what am I doing here?” Having already passed my half-way mark in my time here in Chile, I believe I can finally answer that question. What am I doing here? Like every VE volunteer, I’m bringing a little light to the often troublesome days of some of Santiago’s less-fortunate children. With plenty of hugs, kisses, cuddles and giggle fits, songs, stories, activities and homework help, long walks, not-so-long talks, and frequent escapes to the park, or at least to el patio. Underlying all of this, I’m giving these girls the attention and recognition they so clearly crave, and typically lack in the often chaotic environment that is an hogar. I’m showing them that there are people who care about them, love them, and enjoy spending time with them. I’m assuring them that they are smart, beautiful, and funny. And even though I’m eventually going to have to say goodbye, I take comfort in knowing that another VE volunteer will come in after me, pick up where I left off, and continue to give these girls the love and attention they need and deserve.
The 5-year-old may have reverted to her old ways of tensing up and leaning away as I say “Hola!” and hopefully lean in for a kiss on the cheek. But instead of letting this small rejection get to me, I’ll remind myself of the times she’s let me through that hard shell of hers. Especially of the times she’s sat cuddled up to me on the couch as we read, and reread, her favorite DW book, when she laughs and reminds me “Tía, es puré de papas, no puré de papás!” I hope she never realizes that I purposefully mess that up, just to hear her laugh.