Just ten minutes before, Anielka Gutierrez Mesa, EI's country director, introduced me and told the six-year-old first grader that I would be her "padrino." That's the term EI uses to designate sponsors who help pay for school clothes, backpacks, school supplies and other expenses for children in their program. My wife and I have sponsored several other children and I am used to being addressed as "padrino." But, "tio" (uncle) is OK by me.We are jammed into EI's office, a modest cinderblock building probably intended for a small family, but now housing dozens of rambunctious kids. The afternoon heat is amplified in the close quarters, although no one seems to mind. The noise level is high, but not so much that a conversational voice cannot be heard.
First through fifth graders who need extra help with academics come after school to work with older students, themselves graduates of the EI tutoring program. Small groups sit on reed mats, called petates, in the enclosed dirt yard behind the office. Others are in chairs or seated on the floor, leaning against walls in the narrow inner courtyard. Even the porch entry space is in use, a blackboard on one wall full of math problems where one of the older tutors guides four younger students through solution steps.
I recognize many of the staff and tutors from previous visits and from our dinner last night at the home of Kathy Adams, founder of Empowerment. Angelo is studying to be a pharmacist, but he manages the morning tutoring program as a way to pay back what EI has done for him. Likewise, Anielka, who is the first of her family to graduate high school, teaches computer classes and leads the girls cycling club. She is studying for the entrance exam for the top university in Nicaragua. Melki leads the cycling club and tutors four days a week. He is proud of finishing first in his class the previous year and proud of the responsibility he has assumed in helping to plan and oversee an annual fund-raising cycling tour around Lake Nicaragua. All are engaged with kids, who look up to them for help and encouragement.
Margarita, currently a fourth-year psychology student, finished high school with EI's support. Her family lives in the Barrio Esperanza where EI works with families and children. She is now a member of the staff, providing counseling for parents, coordinating the women's center appointments, helping to connect barrio residents with health care. She also visits teachers in the barrio and in the nearby rural community of Santa Ana, where EI also has programs.
With Margarita as our guide, Francis and I and my friend, Morgan, walk through the barrio to meet her family. She holds my hand and Margarita's, and we launch her over mud puddles and other obstacles in the rutted dirt lane which bisects the shanties on each side. The homes are tin and adobe bricks, some nothing more than rudimentary shelters of scrap metal and wood, others of cinder block with carved wooden doors and metal shutters.
I ask Margarita about the newer homes. She says those who can find work in Costa Rica sometimes can afford better building materials. But why build here, I ask? Because it is home, she says.
We stop at one of the rougher homes, enclosed by a three-strand barbed wire fence. A tall woman stands in the doorway. Margarita introduces her as Francis' mother, Giselle. We exchange basic information, I ask a few questions. How many children do you have? Four. The oldest is Francis, who is six. I know from talking to Margarita earlier that her husband has troubles with drugs and violence. She sighs as we talk, as if carrying a heavy burden. After a few photos, we continue down the barrio lane. I expect that Francis will now stay with her mother, but instead she comes bounding after us. Her mom looks on in listless resignation.
Our next stop is at the home of Hildebrando Josue. His mother is a housekeeper and his father a carpenter, and their home at the first intersection in the barrio has an adobe wall and metal gate. The stuccoed walls are painted an aqua green. The father is waiting at the gate. His name is also Hildebrando and he invites us inside. We find out that his son goes by Josue, to keep them straight. His oldest daughter and her boyfriend are sitting in rocking chairs watching television. Hildebrando senior is a lean, nut brown man, probably in his mid-40's. He wears a white t-shirt and jeans. He is a talker and I find out that he is unemployed. What carpentry work there is in Granada is for remodeling, and owners bring in crews from Managua to do the work. Hildebrando calls his son out of another room, and we sit in plastic chairs side by side trying to make conversation, which is hard for a boy of twelve with a father who likes to talk. I know from letters we exchange that Josue thinks his two sisters are the smart ones in the family. He is a good student, but dreams more of futbol than school work, I think. His father brings out pictures of Josue's graduation from elementary school this past December--a significant event for children in poor families. And he shows me photos of Josue's first communion. We share stories about construction and jobs and fathers and church. I give my little speech about being a teacher and knowing the importance of school in making a better life. We take a few photos and move on.
Our final stop is at the home of Maria Dolores, who, Margarita informs me, now goes by Dolores. She is a 6th grader who I have met before. When I arrived at the EI office earlier in the afternoon, Kathy gave me a Valentine's card from Dolores. It was a musical card that played a tinny version of Mozart's Eine Kleine Nachtmusik. Her handwritten message inside makes me teary. "I care for you and thank you for your great love, a gift to me. You are like a father to me." I had learned earlier that her father had been removed from the household by the authorities after several incidents of domestic violence. Margarita said everyone, including Dolores, seemed much more relaxed and happy since that had occurred some time before Christmas. The card was elaborate and must have cost a good deal, given the family's circumstances. Her mother and family make petates, the simple reed mats I had seen in the EI office. When I asked if her mother was at home, she said, no, that she was in Managua selling mats.
Dolores tells me she wants to be a doctor. I start to say that any career in the medical field would be wonderful, thinking to temper her expectations, but I hold my comment. Who am I to limit her dreams? She has done well in school, she says, in voice that is so quiet and shy it is barely audible. But, I know from talking to the EI staff that Dolores is emerging from her shell. She recently joined the Cycling Club at EI and now rides with the group regularly. Evidently she loves the long distance rides, something I try to tell her I appreciate as a former marathoner. But, my Spanish is not entirely up to the task and we need to return to the office. We take some pictures and hug, and I leave with heightened expectations for this fragile little girl with the big dreams who lives in the neighborhood of hope, Barrio Esperanza.
Empowerment International has performed miracles in this neighborhood and in a rural community, Santa Ana, about a half hour from Granada. Over 90% of students in EI's programs stay in school, far above the national dropout rate that hovers around 50% by the end of secondary school. By working with families, providing counseling and medical care and encouragement to keep their children in school, EI has achieved what few other programs even attempt. And their tutoring program, which is now staffed entirely by older students and graduates--young adults who came from and still live in the barrio--provides the enrichment that public schools still often fail to deliver. A photography club and cycling club have given a significant number of older kids the chance to develop skills and confidence from their participation. Photos taken by EI students have sold at shows in Canada and the US. Bike club members have placed among the top 3 in local races. But no matter the level of skill, all participants stand tall, knowing something about how hard work and practice pay off.
To find out more about Empowerment International visit their [website].
A dollar a day sponsors a child for a year, and can be paid for in monthly installments. [More info]
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