This is Martiza. Or Marixa. The spelling is still unclear.
Her birth certificate, and file in the office says Martiza,
which is how I spelled it when I handed the fifteen year old a card about three
weeks into our stay here. But man, oh man, did she come back with some words
for me. IT’S MARIXA I was told. Which is more accurate to how she says it. I was confused. I asked her to spell it. She
took a crayon and slowly, very very slowly, made a M, R, I, X, A. Her friend corrected her and she squeezed in
the first A. Ah. I said. Now I know. Marixa.
Marixa is the cook in the Little Girl House. She is 15 years
old which means she should technically be in the Big Girls House. But is out on
good behavior. She didn’t have good enough behavior, and wasn’t quite old
enough to be a Big Girl Leader in the Little Girl house, but she did qualify
for the cook position. So she’s here. Every day, heating up goats milk and
making beans and rice and tortillas and chopping veggies with a big old
knife. She barely breaks five feet tall
but is built strong enough to take anyone down. Her black hair reaches all the
way to her hips and her voice booms across the whole orphanage especially when
she is calling out to some boy way over there.
She first told me she came here two years ago (that part’s
true). She told me all her family was dead (not true). Then she told me she had
5 brothers and they all lived in Tegucigalpa (not true). Then I find out her
two sisters are here as well, in different house. Marixa’s a little intense. She knows zero
English, and my Spanish was painful the first few weeks, so maybe we’ll blame
that for the miscommunication on her past. Her laugh is LOUD and frequent and
sometimes she accompanies it with the swinging of a dish towel. Everyone’s a
little on edge around her, or as Dalia, the other Big Girl in the Little Girl
house said, “Everybody knows she’s crazy.”
Marixa and I have had it rough. The five other Big Girls and
I figured out our relationship in the first few weeks. (They are in charge of
the toilet paper and saying which girls are being disciplined- I’m in charge of
the keys, the laundry, second helpings of food, and saying no to things.) I buy
cokes and they share chips. I carefully walked into this relationship with
these teenagers and the result has been true friendship. But oh Marixa. Four
weeks in I thought we were doing well laughing and joking, but then she didn’t
speak to me for four days. The reason finally came out. One day when I was
walking by the house she called my name and
I had ignored her. We finally clarified that it was because I had three
children with me, was talking with another adult I was walking with, and
probably didn’t hear her. But I was in hot water.
We cleared that up and we were good. I spent extra time
doing dishes with her. I brought her presents. I gave her attention and tried
everything I could to get to know her. I thought we were good. But then school
started. Marixa is 15 but is only in the 6th grade. She is unable to read or write so sixth grade is challenging. Not to mention
embarrassing. She has to wear a white collared shirt and walk with the
Elementary School while her friends go to high school. She hates school. With a
passion. So the week before school and the week of school she hated me too. Probably
because I existed. The behavior was really hard to pin down. It was a lot of
yelling, but also laughing and manic and hyper.
I didn’t catch all of her words but even with the language barrier, rude
still comes through. It didn’t matter what I did. This girl, whom I had
carefully, and painfully tried to build a relationship with was only obnoxious
back. I let it go for a week before I
finally confronted her outside by the mops.
Marixa has been in more than just a few fights. Not just
physical. This girl fights anyone that tries to get close to her. Friendship
and vulnerability is her great enemy. A little girl’s great enemy. She is
exhausting. And everyone tells her she is exhausting. Imagine fighting the
world. My pride wanted to punch her.
My Mama’s heart told me that she must be
exhausted too.
So, in my broken Spanish I told her how I very much wanted
to be her friend. How I thought she was wonderful and smart and sweet. I told
her she didn’t have to be my friend back but she better knock off her behavior
or I was going right up to Carelia (the boss) and she knew what that meant. I
told her that I loved her. I really loved her. My tears spilled over and I told
her how sad I was but that I still loved her. She was argumentative. Then
quiet. She wouldn’t look at me and didn’t apologize but didn’t pull away when I
hugged her.
The next day it
stopped. Her behavior was calm. She brought me gifts of cups of coffee for a
week and played with my children. Then Valentine’s Day came.
I was mopping the walkway on Valentine’s Day morning when
Dalia called my name. I set the mop down and went over. Dalia dragged me into
the kitchen and I saw Marixa. She was standing there with her hands over her
eyes. Dalia told me Marixa was just so embarrassed but wanted to give me
something. Marixa covered her face and handed me bags.
Inside one was a brand new skirt and shirt for Elena. Marixa
was so proud and left all the price tags on. Brand new!! She kept telling me in Spanish, and over and over, I bought it I bought it!! There was a
brand new shirt for me as well. With a heart on it for Valentine’s Day with
peace and love written all over it. She insisted I wait and open the rest at
home and when I got home and opened the remainder of the gift- I cried as it
all spilled out over my table. Nail polish, granola bars, headbands, bracelets,
makeup, necklaces, bookmarks, gum, candy, etc.
You guys, this was the good stuff. After being here three
months I’ve learned what has value to the high school girls (scotch tape and
nailpolish, lotion) and what is on the low end of the scale (stickers). This
was the high end stuff. This was either all her savings from Christmas gifts or
from sponsors or she made trades with
others for all of it. A whole bag. A whole bag of the best stuff. I have never been so
humbled as when I received Marixa’s gift of her very best.
A note was tucked in
an envelope for me. “To Key”. She had laid down her pride and had dictated it
to a friend to write for her. The note spoke of friendship and love. Of course
I read it through tears.
And sometimes there is striving and no good ending that you can see. And sometimes you just trust that God’s grace is there even if you don’t feel it. But sometimes, just sometimes- the gift is an actual gift that sits on your kitchen table.
And sometimes there is striving and no good ending that you can see. And sometimes you just trust that God’s grace is there even if you don’t feel it. But sometimes, just sometimes- the gift is an actual gift that sits on your kitchen table.
And please say it out loud for those who can’t read it. Love never fails.
Hi Kate! What an incredible story, thanks for sharing. It's good to hear about the difficulties as well as the good stuff. I've heard a number of people reference your blog on council (at CBS), so please know you are missed and we are thinking about you. Can't wait to hear more in person soon! Kerri V.
ReplyDeleteWonderful - your writing (as ever!) and the breakthrough you made with Marixa. I started reading this thinking of our camper Lakesha/Takesha, though, of course, this post covered far deeper issues than just a name. You must have made a real impact on this little Big Girl that she gifted you her top goodies. I hope she remembers your talk with her and that she is loved, even after your time there reminding her has come to end. Suzie
ReplyDeleteAs I sit here and read this entry in tears, I want you to know that this entire experience has not only impacted you and your family, but also myself and I'm sure others. I have learned so much from reading your entries. Not just about the orphanage and the country, but about Love, God and what it is to not take things for granted. And I thank you for that!
ReplyDelete