Children of the Trash

Every morning, I work with the seven youngest kids we have here at the Hogar, who we call “the Chicitos” (chicito means “little one”). It is a job and a chore but also an opportunity to learn spiritual truths and practice the fruits of the Spirit, namely patience, gentleness and self-control.

My kids and I have to scavenge for trash every morning. People in Honduras generally don’t use trashcans and our kids at the Hogar are no exception. Because of this, every day the little kids clean up the trash in our yard and garden. We work our way around the grounds, one or two kids usually holding onto my hands, my waist, or any other part of me they can reach. All of them are talking to me, arguing with each other, asking me questions, pointing out interesting scenery, and doing everything except looking for trash. I usually have to point it out to them.

Once they’ve spotted the trash and actually picked it up, a new phase begins. Just because the kids have picked up the trash doesn’t necessarily mean it will go into the trashcan. As my mom used to say, “There is many a slip between the cup and the lip.” Discarded rope becomes a harness for Manuel, to be driven by Javier. A piece of cotton and a rusty wire becomes a lovely flower to be put in someone’s hair (usually mine). My kids are fascinated by bits of plastic, empty soda cans, orange peels, rotting shoes. They play with it, throw it at each other, or hand it to me to carry. Sometimes, I put it in my pocket without thinking. The other day, I found a multicolored rock, a length of red yarn, a piece of tinsel from Christmas, a felt, and three beads in there after work.

Or they eat it. This is usually where my patience runs out.

“Manuel, por favor, ¡no se come basura! ¿Que piensas niño?”
Translation: Manuel, good grief, don’t eat trash! What are you thinking, child?

I never thought I’d actually hear myself say that to someone. But it’s almost a daily thing. “Reinita, no ponga esta cosita en tu boca! Esta es basura!”

They stare at me blankly and take it out of their mouths, looking aggrieved. Yikes, I think. How am I the bad guy here? But it probably is our fault, if you think about it. These kids are becoming too comfortable with trash.

We also get to sort beans. Seven ADHD kids and me and a huge basin of beans to sort. It’s kind of like purgatory. The older girls, Marta, Waleska and Selenia sorting and arguing with each other; Damaris refusing to do anything (usually I have to send her to her room); Javier playing soldiers with his pile. Manuel and Reinita still don’t know the difference between a bean and a rock.

“Reinita,” I say, peering into her “good” pile, “This isn’t a bean. This is a rock. And this is a leaf.”
She screws up her face into her best baby pout. “Yo no sabía,” she says (“I didn’t know!”). What?? How do you not know? You’re like eight! Although I try to do quality control on the finished product, Jodi says she’s crunched into some gravel while eating our beans.

Oh well. More minerals. With beans like this, who needs a multivitamin?