Elian

Friends,

Each time I sit down to write, I find I don´t have the right words to describe all the rich fullness that my heart holds. Life in Bolivia is always such a bittersweet mix of beauty and pain. This picture below of me and Elian captures just a bit of how I usually feel when I´m with the kiddos. The niños have been by far the biggest blessing of my time in Coch. I feel full to overflowing with love for these precious, lindo niños, and it is such a joy each day to share a smile with them, to hold them close, and to tell them of Christ´s incredible love for them.


Elian has weaseled his way deep into my heart. Maybe it's just the shared joy of Quechua, but I suspect it´s this smile you see in the picture... or maybe the shy way he slips his hand in mine, or calls "Cati" to show me something he´s proud of, or the way he comes running, cuaderno in hand, whenever I arrive, to beg for "astawa tarea"(more homework). He´s such an eager learner, and often steals away from the rest of the group to pull out a pencil and practice his letters in his cuaderno.

We took the Villa Israel kids to the movies this week and bought them all popcorn and a drink. When Elian saw I didn´t have any, he leaned over with a fistful of popcorn to plop it into my hand. Every time I finished my handful, he´d tug on my sleeve, saying,"Cati, ¡más!" His heart is in tune with the needs of those around him, and his sweet little Quechua voice is enough to melt anyone!


The flip side of Elian´s beauty is the continued brokenness of his story. I learned a few days ago that they now think that Elian´s dad murdered his mother. I have no idea whether Elian was present for that or not, but I can´t help but ache at the holes that it tore in his life. His father is an alcoholic and is unable to care for any of his children, which means that Elian and Franz are only two of many children in the family and have been separated from the rest of their siblings.

Another torn part of Elian´s story is his identity as a Quechua. In Bolivia, to be from the campo (the countryside) is a deeply shameful thing, and it´s even more shameful to be a Quechua and to speak the language. Elian´s new brothers and sisters are struggling to accept him with this identity. I´ve had several conversations with other kids at Villa Israel about their "new brother" Elian, and several times, I´ve gotten the disdainful response, "He´s not my brother, he´s a campesino". They make fun of his rotting teeth (often a sign of poverty or neglect here in Bolivia) and tell him to stop speaking in Quechua. Whenever I try to talk to him in Quechua, they tell me that he no longer speaks Quechua (he obviously does, as he still struggles to get a few phrases out in español), and tell me he needs to forget his Quechua and his heritage. It breaks my heart that a little boy with such a beautiful language and indigenous identity is being forced to forget all that defines him and his past.


Please continue to keep all the kids at Villa Israel in your prayers, and the interns as well as we struggle to have wisdom for all the situations we face as we try to grow with them. Pray that the impartial love of Christ would be growing in each of their little hearts, and that God would show us how to be an example of this love for them.


Thanks for reading,
Cati


P.S. For those of you who are wondering, August 10th passed without much fanfare... Evo was re-elected and the prefect (governor)of Cochabamba was voted out, but refuses to leave. We may continue to see some interesting political dynamics, but it seems as though things are returning to normal in Coch.


P.P.S. Here´s a video of Villa Israel that my friend Adrian put together: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pNMHmmSaYdM