Somebody HAS To Do Something

NOTE: Fundacion El Castillo no longer exists.  Life of Hope Ministries is one of various ministries that was created because of Fundacion El Castillo.  LoHM and other ministries continue to do good work in Guatemala.

Working Title:  “Somebody HAS To Do Something”

Author:  Joe F. Walenciak; Chairman, Division of Business, John Brown University

Date:  January 6, 2007

[Fundación Los Ministerios de El Castillo is an outreach to street children in Guatemala.  Life of Hope Ministries (www.lifeofhope.org) is a US-based foundation that collaborates with El Castillo and other programs to rescue children and families in Guatemala.]

Someone from the El Castillo street team heard that a boy was in need, and so we went.  We went to the “bagones,” a place in the heart of Guatemala City where old train cars had been abandoned.  We arrived and met the youth who would give us protection back into this place, and we proceeded to work our way into the night.  Rats scurried across the path and vanished into the high grass and weeds that surrounded us.  We were taken to a train car where we climbed inside to find Carlos, a young man who had tried to steal a wallet that day.  His intended victim had produced a machete and buried it halfway through the boy’s foot, and since Carlos was a street kid and an obvious delinquent, so no doctor would see him.  In the middle of this filthy place, amidst the smell of raw sewage and by the light of a single candle, we cleaned and bound the wound as Carlos inhaled solvent continuously to kill the pain.  My business education never prepared me for this.  It was one of those moments where Carlos realized the absolute depths to which his life had fallen.  He felt as worthless as his society said he was.  He wept in despair, and we prayed and just hugged him…and we left.  Eyes glistened by candlelight in each of the abandoned cars as we were escorted back out of this place…a community of disposable youth, forgotten by the world.  Ironically, we entered and exited under the projection of the area’s delinquent youth only to find the police trying to steal the El Castillo van.  We quickly climbed in…if they wanted the van, they would have to take us too.  They were angry, but they left without their prize.  Protected by the street gang and harassed by the police, we were just trying to help. 

How could this happen?  What is wrong with society?!  Somebody HAS to do something!

Children were playing under the harsh light of street lamps as two female prostitutes fought in the street, their pimps enjoying the show.  I was told not to get involved.  Another normal night in the streets of Guatemala City.  As we turned and walked away, we saw the little feet sticking out of the crumpled newspaper on the sidewalk.  This was home for the night for two brothers, about 5 and 7 years old, who were abandoned on the street that very day.  Police were gathering in the area, also enjoying the show in the street.  They were a bit hesitant to act, not knowing who we were or why our group was there, but finally ordered everyone out of the area.  The older boy tried to wake his brother who was sleeping soundly, his dreams giving him a brief escape from the reality of his abandonment.  The police insisted that the boys leave.  An El Castillo street team member got my attention.  “Joe!  Help him!”  Suddenly, the 7-year-old handed me his brother, and we walked down the street to another place where the boys could sleep.  With a mattress of cardboard and blankets of newspaper, we tucked him in.  Guatemalan laws would not allow us to take the boys with us.  I remember little brother rousing as I laid him on the cardboard, just long enough to look me in the eyes.  That brief gaze pierced the depths of my soul. 

How could this happen?!  What went wrong with humanity?  My heart cried out, “Somebody has to do something!”

I remember Glenda.  We always saw her around “la casona” in Zona 4 with the same filthy coat and face.  One night we gave haircuts on the street, followed by a shampoo along the side of the van.  What ran down the gutter looked more like chocolate than water at times.  The local bomberos let us plug into their electricity to power the hair clippers and a television.  Street children are fascinated by TV, so we used that to show them some Jesus cartoons.  I remember Glenda as she sat on the chair to get her hair cut, panicked suddenly, and ran away.  After a little while she returned, and with more courage and a big smile, she sat back down on the chair and seemingly enjoyed her haircut.  A simple haircut.  A loving touch.  I remember Glenda afterward as she smiled and posed for pictures, one of those rare moments when she actually looked us squarely in the eye as though the slightest bit of self-respect had crept into her heart.  At least for a moment, she felt good about herself.  I remember Glenda as she disappeared into the night with her group.  It is hard to say where they were headed next.  And then about a month later I received the call.  “Joe, do you remember Glenda?”  Of course I did.  How could I ever forget Glenda?  In that moment, I remembered Glenda as I was told that she had ended her short life by throwing herself in front of a speeding car on 6^th Avenue.  She was a teenager who should have been enjoying life and dreaming about her future, but in a single moment of despair and emptiness that I cannot imagine, she decided that dying in the street was better than living.  After eighteen painful years, Glenda found peace on her own terms.

How could this happen?  What is wrong with the world?!  Someone should have done something!  We tried, but it wasn’t enough.

I have learned a great truth in life.  Whenever God allows me to realize that somebody ought to do something, He is usually reminding me that I am somebody!  We are all somebody, and we can make a difference.  I will never forget Glenda, but I won’t forget Dinora either.  She was a three-year-old running wild in the streets of a “red zone” in Escuintla, Guatemala.  Abandoned by her mother, a prostitute and drug addict, this filthy little girl was wandering aimlessly in a horrible place where the police won’t even go.  We couldn’t coax a smile from her, not even with a big purple lollipop.  With a hollow look on her face that I will never forget, Dinora just melted into the embrace of a young lady on the El Castillo street team.  El Castillo was able to rescue Dinora from that place, and within a year, she was running and playing with her new family.  The next time I saw Dinora, barely a year later, I could not contain the emotion.  She was a different child.  This time, she couldn’t STOP smiling.  There had been a great big empty space in that little heart, like a bottomless glass that can’t be filled up.  Now she was taking all of life that she could get.  A broken life was being fixed.  This was one of those times in my life when I truly understood the meaning of redemption…taking something that has gone terribly wrong and making it right.  I remember Glenda, but I also remember Dinora, Antonio, Byron, Marilyn, and many others who now have a life filled with hope.

A life of hope.  That is what Life of Hope Ministries is all about…fixing broken kids and giving them true hope where there was hopelessness.  Our main partner is Los Ministerios De El Castillo (or “El Castillo”) in Guatemala.  Teams go out into the alleys, bus terminals, parks, and other dark corners of Guatemala City and the surrounding area throughout the week because generous supporters see themselves as “somebody” who CAN make a difference.  El Castillo has grown to include ministries of prevention, rescue, rehabilitation, education, and reintegration.  They work with entire families, because a strengthened family means that those children may not end up on the streets to rescue.  If we can keep a child off of the streets to start with, then we don’t need to rescue them later.

I am somebody who can make a difference.  We all are.  We can pray.  We can give.  We can go.  What we can’t do is wait for “somebody” else to do it.