blood

Bolivian hospitals never cease to amaze me.  I don't know how they accomplish anything because the system is so backwards and the staff is incredibly unorganized.  I spent most of this week at the hospital, and every time I go, there seems to be some new ridiculous thing that blows the other ridiculous things out of the water.  Last night, I found myself cutting through dark hallways carrying an open vile of blood, which was resting precariously inside a hole on the top of a cardboard box that was wrapped in shiny, "happy birthday" wrapping paper...

Yesterday evening, I came across one of the girls who I hadn't seen in a few days and noticed that she was really sick.  She was complaining of excruciating pain in her feet, her back, and her joints and could barely move.  So I took her to the pediatric emergency room because she's only 14.  She was running a fever of 104 and had an open, bloody throat infection that every doctor in emergency wanted to see.  Two hours later, the doctors finally give her something to lower the fever, which helped her joints start to loosen up.

One of the ladies from the night shelter is taking the girl back to the hospital today to pick up her blood work and get some specific treatment. We're hoping to get her into a girls' home, but we were told we'd have to wait until Wednesday because this weekend is Carnaval.  

This girl is only 14 but is already smoking crack cocaine on a fairly regular basis.  Her mom ditched the kids and took off to Buenos Aires a little over 2 years ago, so she and her sister are both on the streets in Cocha.  Both sisters come and go from the bridge quite often.

The girls are definitely more transient than the guys.  They come and go every few weeks or days but tend to stay in specific areas. I really need to get a foot in the door with some other groups in different parts of the city where the girls stay.  The problem is that some of those areas are incredibly dangerous, and I can't just go barging in.  So I'm praying for open doors.

a police station with a pool?

It's weird how crisis situations become everyday events down here...

Yesterday, I went out to a home for street couples to visit some kids I know there and to find out some information about one of the missing girls, whose boyfriend and son are still at the home.  The last time I saw this girl was about 3 weeks ago when she showed up on the street, having escaped from the home because her boyfriend was strangling her.  Nobody at the home had any information about where she might be, and in fact, they were all hoping that I had come with news.  

I remember meeting two of the couples who are at the home back when they lived down by the bus terminal in the spring.  They're older and really rough (seriously, they used to scare me), but I'm really happy that I'm becoming friends with them.  I was talking with the girls and searching for some info about the 2 girls that I'm trying to locate.  Thanks to all their experience on the streets, they were able to give me a few different locations on the south side of town where the girls might be.  But they told me that I shouldn't go, especially at night, even though that would be the best time to find the girls.  One girl said to watch out because there are rapists around there and that a guy tried to rape her one time not too long ago.  Great...  The girl's boyfriend and one of the women want to talk to the director of the home and see about getting out for the afternoon to go looking for the girl.  If that gets worked out, then I'll tag along to some of these scarier places, but I'm not planning any solo rescue operations.

While we were talking about all that, I got a call from another girl on the street who I've bee helping for a few months.  She was hysterical, because her boyfriend had just beaten the crap out of her.  So I left the home and jumped on a bus back to the city.  I got to the corner where all the kids were right in time to see a police SUV come speeding up and squeal to a stop.  She had finally called the cops on her boyfriend, because it was a little different this time.  He wasn't high or drunk when he beat her up; he was just mad.  So he punched her in the face 4 or 5 times and broke her nose.  Then, he kicked her in the back when she was down on the ground.  Unfortunately, he escaped on a bus just a split second before the cops arrived. 

The kids have had so many run-ins with the cops in the past few weeks, that I was immediately on edge.  But thankfully, the two cops that showed up were only interested in helping the beat-up girl and didn't harass the kids for loitering on the bank lawn or having obviously concealed glue bottles.  I rode in the back of the police SUV with her to the Family and Women Protection Brigade to file a denuncia (a police report that also serves as a restraining order) against her boyfriend, which I've been trying to get her to do for months.

Bolivia never ceases to amaze me, and this visit to the police station was no different.  The building was dump built ages ago and never kept up, with sagging ceilings and creaking, loose floor boards.  Florescent lights had been added at some point, and the walls were painted pastel pink and covered with dirty hand prints and yellowed signs.  And the cherry-on-top was an old, empty pool in the courtyard/parking lot.

Before they would interview her, the police sent us out to buy a manilla file folder for the paperwork they were filling out.  That's right.  They don't provide file folders in Bolivia.  Out by the front gate, we found a little tienda selling candy, coke, gum, and...manilla file folders.  

So after she talked with the cops and filled out paperwork, I took her over the hospital to get looked at.  We found out that the forensic doctor she needs to see, as per police orders, wasn't in, but the the doctors in the emergency room were able to give her a shot for the pain (after we went across the street to the pharmacy to buy the vile of pain medication).  

So I still need to figure out how I'm going to get down to where the the 2 missing girls are.  And in the meantime, I have to find a way to juggle all the craziness with the other girl and her abusive ex-boyfriend.  

I'm planting some seeds in her head about relocating to Santa Cruz...

hole in the wall

The police in this country have no grace for the kids on the street.  

This morning, some of the guys from the bridge were roughed up by the cops, taken to the police station, and then released a few hours later.  I'm really not sure what purpose it served...  The whole thing frustrates me because the police were harassing some of the better guys- ones who are trying to work and improve their lives.  

Based on the events of this morning and on all the rumors about police round-ups that they've heard, the kids decided to abandon the bridge for a few days.  And since kids living on the streets are often quite ingenious, I wasn't surprised when I stumbled upon a group of guys packed like sardines and hiding from the rain in an ATM booth under construction.

The hole in the wall.

11 boys and 2 dogs