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Sunday, October 26, 2014

High School Graduation for "Desconocido Desconocido"




The school year here runs from January to October, which means we have entered the season of graduation from Bachillerato- the Guatemalan version of high school. Because only a small percentage of  Guatemalans attend university, Bachillerato is a terminal degree for most. It follows the 6 years spent in “Primaria” and 3 in “Básico.” In addition to the usual high school curriculum of math, science, language, etc, the “Bachilleres” of Guatemala choose a career focus, like a college major, which offers the vocational training they will need when looking for a job. Individual Bachllerato schools offer a limited number of majors, so our high school kids are spread out over many different schools in Chimaltenango, San Lucas and Antigua. Some have sponsors from the US, Canada or Europe who pay for their “ahijado” to study at a more elite private school. But most are limited to the majors available at the free public schools. These majors include: auto mechanic, secretary, technical drawing, teacher, electrician, physical education, arts and sciences, computer science… To be sure, their high school major does not mean that they cannot choose something else to study if they attend the university studies.  



Because of these various “majors,” our Pequeños attend eight or nine different Bachilleratos. This means eight or nine different graduation ceremonies. I facetiously offer the graduates a “bribe” of 100 Quetzales ($12, but a lot to them) to any willing to excuse me from attending their graduation. Anyone who has been to a high school graduation in the States knows how brutal these can be. They are even tougher here: The Guatemalan flag is brought in, accompanied by a group salute and its special song. That is followed by the singing of the National Anthem (all twelve stanzas), directed by a student in front who tries to wave his arms in sync with the recorded music. Then the graduates process in with their parents, called individually by name, and accompanied by loud music. In fact, a recorded soundtrack accompanies everything, including the interminable speeches by faculty and students. Several hours later the graduates leave the stage, diplomas in hand. I also exit, doing my best to cope with the headache brought on by two-plus hours of audio volume turned up so loud that I fear my hearing has been damaged.




Jose Antonio was one of the graduates this year. He presented me with one of the eight tickets allocated to each graduate of his school and asked me to attend. I thanked him and did my best to smile politely, making peace with the fact that I would lose half a day sitting through yet another one of these events. The reality is that this is a huge deal for the graduates. Especially for our kids, who very rarely are celebrated as individuals, graduation is a rare moment to shine. Individual birthdays are not recognized or celebrated here (some kids do not even know when their birthday is), and the only real accomplishments that seem to get much notice are successes on the soccer field. And so walking down the aisle, hearing their name announced over the amplifier, is indeed a proud moment. And having a few people in the audience present to witness this means a lot. All of the other graduates are accompanied by their parents as they process in. Ours, for obvious reasons, are usually not. But the graduating Pequeños ask people from NPH to assume the role of parents for this event.


People in many Latin American countries, including Guatemala, generally have two last names. The first is their primary last name, and comes from their father. The second is the maiden name of their mother. It can be difficult here at NPH keeping track of siblings, because while they may share a mother, they often have different fathers.


Jose Antonio is one of our star soccer players, and a favorite of the younger kids here. He is outgoing and has a sunny personality. He plays marimba and hopes to be part of the group that will go on “tour” of the Chicago area this winter to play music and raise funds for the house. Brought here as a small child, he told me once that he never knew either of his parents until a couple of years ago, when by some freak circumstance he was reunited with his mother. But his birth certificate reads, “Jose Antonio Desconocido Desconocido.” (Jose Antonio Unknown-Father Unknown-Mother). He still does not have an official last name, although our attorney is trying to resolve that now that he is eighteen and needs to get his government ID.



When I arrived at the place Jose Antonio’s graduation was to be held, he introduced me to his mother and the little daughter from a relationship with some man no longer in the picture. Clearly a woman of humble circumstances, she had journeyed several hours on an overcrowded bus to be here for the graduation, and was clearly pleased and proud of the son she only recently met.



After receiving their diploma, each graduate came down from the stage to greet their parents and have their picture taken. After Jose Antonio descended from the stage, I saw his face as he hugged his mother. And I found myself thinking that this was a moment no one ever would have imagined- certainly, when he began his Bachllerato studies, he never would have dreamed that his mom would be there to hug him after he got his diploma. As much as I loathe these graduations (the graduation I attended the next day lasted five hours), witnessing this moment alone made going worthwhile.





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NPH was founded to serve orphans, but the mission has been expanded over the years to also take in children who come from rotten families, or from situations of dire poverty that put them at risk. Here in Guatemala, I think that about a quarter of the Pequeños are true orphans. Most have at least one parent, or another relative they can stay with during school vacation time. The kids are friendly and flash easy smiles when visitors come. But behind each smile smolders a sense of suffering, hidden from all, only surfacing in very rare moments of vulnerability. At NPH we try to provide a sense of family to those for whom this is the closest they will ever get to the kind of network of relationships that form the emotional base for the rest of us. 



A couple of months after I arrived in Guatemala, a group of visitors asked that I celebrate Mass with them in our temporary chapel. Reinhart Koehler, who is the President of NPH International, happened to be visiting us and attended the Mass. At the end, he offered a few words to the group. He explained that they would have wonderful experiences interacting with the kids, and that many might be surprised by how happy the children here seem. There is indeed often a sense of joy among the kids, especially when they are interacting with outsiders. But Reinhart cautioned the group against taking this apparent joy as an indication that the kids are content. He said that after more than 30 years of working with the children of NPH he has come to see that they would give anything to have a parent.



No one wants to be a “desconocido.”

Friday, October 17, 2014

Chapel Construction Nearing Completion

A view of the chapel nearing completion!
The view of the front from the park (also under construction)
Our Bell (70 lbs)
Hanging the Bell
Inside the Chapel- the left "arm"
View from the front door looking inside (cement floor is being poured- one wheelbarrow at a time)
Artisans work on what will be the Presider's Chair
This will be the base of the "Retablo" in back, upon which will sit the tabernacle
The Ambo is almost completed