From Rachel C.
At Batey Guazabel two years ago, I was on traffic control in the med clinic when a woman came in alone, causing a stir among several other women who demanded that she bring her son to see the doctor. She reluctantly left and returned with a small boy who waited with me while his mother was examined.
He was filthy, his clothes were full of holes, he didn't speak -- except the word Mami -- and I spent most of the time trying to getting him to play patty cake with me. The best he could manage was to hold his hands up in front of him, palms together, while I slowly clapped first one of his hands and then the other, over and over.
Last year, as we drove to Guazabel, I wondered if we would see him again, an odd question perhaps (where else would he be?). When we got off the bus, he was there to greet us along with all the other kids. This time, when we asked como te llamas? he told us his name is Jacson and he needed zapatos nuevos -- new shoes.
Though the shoes he was wearing were too small, his clothes were clean, his mother was much more attentive to him (though she still asked us to take him with us when we left), and he had a lot to say. When it was his turn at bat in the whiffle ball game, Mason started to help him swing, but Jacson waved him off and smacked the first pitch that Ian tossed. He is perhaps a lot less compromised than we at first thought.
Yesterday, we saw Jacson again. He's still very small -- 12 years old and only 41 pounds -- but he has clearly made a lot of progress in the last year. Still more verbal, he seems to have figured out how to make his way in his world.
Another pair of new shoes, cookies and a soda after our lunch, lots of attention during our visit. We showed him the photos we took of him last year, and he led us to his house when we were distributing the food. He danced with us and played "head, shoulders, knees, and toes" (mostly focused on his toes). As always, it was hard to leave.
