How I Finally Got Into The Prison

I wasn't in the best of spirits today..just a combination of things. Mid morning my buddy Prakash popped over unexpectedly as he tends to do; he tells me that it's not the Nepali way to plan. He had some things to do himself today but on his agenda was to call his sister who is politically involved and who he thought may have some contacts who could help me with the prison situation. He told me that the night before he had read my blog post about the battle to see Proscovia and it had moved him to want to do something.

Because of my Debbie Downer mood I told him not to bother. I was tired and discouraged from all of the efforts and thought there was no point. But he insisted. So off we went on our way by motorbike. This instantly put me in a good mood as it's so exciting when you're not used to it! Prakash was excited to be riding too as he hadn't been using his bike for weeks given the fuel crisis, but he had been able to buy some black market petrol from someone he trusted. There have been issues with the quality of the petrol on the black market and so he had been afraid to even use it. That has meant walking, dealing with the crazy local buses (which are so full that people are riding on the roof), or even hitchhiking, which apparently is something that people typically won't refuse here, as it's not the Nepali way, and especially now given the situation that the whole country is in.

Most of the day we did the errands he needed to do, but with the plan to head to the prison later. We had talked to his sister and she had given us 2 names of people to see there. She told me that if we weren't successful today, that she would take me down to some head government department tomorrow to apply for permission to get in. Again I was feeling like a Debbie, like what's the use. I was just tired of the whole process. That morning like every morning this week I tried to reach my contact at the Ugandan High Commission in New Delhi with no success. I'm pretty sure she is avoiding me now.

Mid afternoon we reached the jail and found the man that we needed to talk to, one of the head administrators there, a contact of Prakash's sister's friend. The three of us stood in the hallway of the administration office while Prakash did his spiel, again. After some time of me not understanding what was going on Prakash explained that the head boss was on his way and that we needed to speak with him. He said it was possible that I was going to be granted a visit, but only one. I wasn't believing it at this point though..

Within minutes the head guy walked up, along with my buddy Aakash! I was happy to see a friendly face amongst all these serious bigwigs. A few words were exchanged, followed by a question from the head honcho asking me if I was going to give Proscovia any money. I told him no, just clothes and food. Some more words were said in Nepali and then he was gone. I had no idea what the end result was until Prakash said that I was going to get to see her, like right then! I was so shocked but then was like okay, let's go!

Prakash wasn't allowed to go but stayed until I got my permission slip which Aakash walked me through. He asked why I hadn't called him that day which was a little uncomfortable but I told him we hadn't planned to come; that it had happened unexpectedly, which was true. He told me that he and the head boss had just come from the women's jail and seen Proscovia. I didn't have a chance to ask him why.

Part way through the completely unnecessary and inefficient 10 step process it was time to go through the first set of security. Here I was told that I couldn't leave any electronics like my cell, Ipod and camera which I had with me as I hadn't been planning to visit. I was annoyed because I had been able to leave these things when I had seen Aakash, but then I should know by now that there are different rules for different people. In the end Prakash had to wait around with my stuff, which I felt bad for. But he was really good about it, knowing what this meant to me.

I later learned that they had stopped allowing people to leave phones and valuables with security after a politician came to visit and had his expensive phone stolen. Yah, that would do it for sure. But what a pain.

So I go through security and as per usual they search my bag. And they find 3 pills in my purse (all vitamins that I had forgotten to take that morning), but yah that didn't look so good. They planned to confiscate them but were nice enough to let me take them right there.

I finally arrived at the women's prison and once again needed to be searched, bag and body. As they were doing that I heard them call Proscovia's name. Knowing that they are Curious Georgia's inspecting every little thing I was feeling anxious as I wanted to be done and seated so I could see her walk out and see me there. I knew it would be a shock for her.

She came out really quick as I was walking in to sit down. Once she laid eyes on me she started saying my name over and over, bawling. I think she even went down to the ground as I lost her at one point. I of course was in tears myself. I think it was worse given how hard it had been to get to her.

Once she stopped crying she talked non-stop about how upset she was with the treatment she was receiving. Turns out the head guy who had let me in had just met with her and some of the other foreign girls about the issues they are having in the prison. At the top of her list was her not being able to have visitors. She had been told that someone had been to see her after the Dashain festival (which would have been me) but had been denied. This head guy knows very well how hard it is to survive without outside support and she stressed this to him. He told her that he would let her visitor in, which perhaps is why he was generous with me. She told me that she felt all alone in Nepal, as if she has nobody. Her one contact through my old volunteer organization hadn't been the most helpful as of late she said, and so she wasn't getting any communication in or out. That means she has been cut off and broke.

Sadly, she told me she hasn't had any contact with her daughter Nicole (who is now 16) for 3 years. I was shocked by this. She said that Nicole is living with her dad and that he won't give her main contact, her uncle Alfred, his contact number as he believes Alfred was involved in her drug trafficking charge. I had to ask if he had been, and she adamantly denied this. Her charge caused a lot of shame to her and her family and she said she never would have involved them in this. So that was truly sad news. I have no idea what Nicole even knows about why her mother is in Nepal or when she is coming home, that which Proscovia doesn't even know.

One of the last messages I had received from Proscovia had been brief, and had said something about her believing her sentence would be reduced. I asked her about this, wanting to know if it was legit or wishful thinking. She explained that after Nepal's new constitution recently there was talk about people's sentences being reduced which had given her some renewed hope. However, apart from talk of one drug case being reduced she believes that any reductions would be just for light sentences, not one like hers. But her hope remains...

As we talked she reminded me that she is in her 9th year of a 16.5 year sentence. Sigh...

We flitted through so many topics that day, as we weren't sure if that would be our only visit. Regarding the earthquake, she told me that the women's jail had sadly only been cracked. She explained that it was sad as there was talk that if the walls crumbled that the police would just let them go. Not sure if that was reality or again wishful thinking.

Prison conditions she told me are actually worse than before. She lost some belongings in the earthquake for one, and now there is no cooking gas, no heaters, fights over water etc. On top of that she has no money so has been really struggling to eat well, to wash her clothes and so on. She said that she was also sick; that a doctor had just been to see her and diagnosed her with low hemoglobin and high blood pressure. What will be done about that I'm not sure, but proper nutrition is definitely something that she is lacking. Her longstanding tooth issues from 2012 when I paid for a root canal (for $40) received a poor patch job which she is hoping won't get any worse. On top of that she has been told she should have surgery on her arm from an old bus crash injury in Uganda. I had never noticed it before but her one arm is super swollen and a lot bigger than the other. She is self conscious about it but doesn't want to have to have surgery in Nepal if she doesn't have to. I saw for myself what the dentist looked like years ago, and she said that when the doctor comes that he will see several patients and not change his gloves. So I don't blame her for being concerned.

She told me that in prison if you have money, you can be pampered, but if you have no money you are nothing. Her Nepali roommate, infamous for paying someone to kidnap a young child for ransom (and who was ultimately killed) calls her "used credit" in Nepali. That isn't far from the truth sadly as her bill in the shops there is 9000 rupees (just over $100) which is a lot here. She said they haven't asked her for payment but she finds it hard to see them knowing she has no money to pay them. Some have been very kind to her though, like a lady who has a tea shop who has told her to come anytime she wants to for tea (free). Proscovia feels bad about taking her up on her offer, but is very grateful and has been hoping to buy her a little something for Xmas.

Eventually I heard the word "bhayo" which I know meant that our time was up. Like always Proscovia looked over to the boss pleading for more time, and was able to buy a bit more until I had no choice but to go. Again, not having planned to come, I hadn't brought anything with me but handed her what money I had with me that day. She then had to duck under the half door back into the prisoner compound. She was so desperate for me to get some communication off for her though that she had me wait around so she could give me some letters. After what seemed like forever she came back out with a stack of papers which the police promptly took to be reviewed. We were separated by this point so I simply said to her that if I dint get to see her again, to take care and stay strong. It seemed like a strange way to end especially if that was the last time I saw her, but there was no other choice.

And they never did let me have those letters..



Visit With Aakash, Prisoner and Guard

I'm not sure why but it took me so long to call Aakash in order to pass my number on to Surendra. I guess I figured Surendra wasn't in the country anyway so there was no rush. I also didn't want to call myself as the number he gave me was a landline at the prison and so I would have a hard time explaining what I needed if someone else answered. Eventually Prakash called for me and gave him my number. He told Prakash that he believed Surendra was back from Europe which I was thrilled to hear as I had really hoped to see him. He said he would pass my number on to him for me so I was excited!

Minutes later Aakash called back saying he had told Surendra that I was here. Then he asked if I would come and see him. He was free in a half hour he said, but not after that as he had another friend coming to visit. So I seized the opportunity to go back to the prison and told him ok, I would be there. I quickly said goodbye to Prakash and took off knowing it would take me that long to get there. There are always tons of bicycle rickshaws around and I planned to get one to get there quicker, but I asked a couple people and their price was crazy so I went on power walking.
 

Part way there I gave in and got a rickshaw for the last bit. I regretted it instantly though given how crowded the streets are and knowing that I could probably navigate them quicker on foot. But I got there and Aakash was waiting for me at the main gate looking spiffy in his black leather jacket, jeans and dressy loafers. The police greeted me like last time, I gave his name and in I went to the first security area. There was nobody around but a handful of police officers, I learned due to it being a public holiday. There are A LOT of public holidays in Nepal by the way...So no visitors were allowed that day but, in I went. This is how the system works here..

 

And speaking about the system, yep, no problem seeing a Nepali prisoner, but a foreigner is a completely different story. Makes no sense to me at all.

 

Aakash, who may I remind you is technically a prisoner himself, helped check me in, writing my name, country etc. in the registration book. As per usual they asked for cell phones, SIM cards, recharge cards, ATM cards...I handed over my Ipod, ear buds and cell phone, got a visitor pass to put around my neck, which is new, and they went through my bag. Then to a little private area to get frisked and off we went to the men's jail to visit.

 

I know this part of the jail well, as this is where I used to visit my Nigerian buddy, Teo. It's also where I used to visit Surendra, who as a prisoner/guard had a separate area for visits. This same area is where Aakash and I sat given he too is a guard. In fact I learned that he is the boss of the prisoners, taking over the position after Surendra was released. This explained why he had helped check me in. He basically has full reign of the place.

 

As I described years ago in past posts the visiting area on the men's side is a really nice area. It's outside so it is bright, there is a colourful mural on one wall, a temple, chairs to sit and green space. It has always seemed very welcoming and peaceful to me. A stark contrast from the women's side which I have also written about before.

 

There were no prisoners outside visiting due to the holiday, and instead a group of uniformed police officers were sitting in the yard playing a game. Not a typical prison scene that's for sure.

 

As has always been my past experience, Aakash offered and then insisted that I have a coffee. I have fond memories of my coffee/tea times with Teo in particular and so I accepted. After some time a man brought us two big cups of coffee which Aakash explained was not from the tea shop that the prison runs for prisoners and visitors, but rather from his own personal supply. Turns out he is quite the coffee connoisseur and buys Nescafe Gold for himself, a more expensive option than the rest get. His favourite though is Starbucks just like me :)

 

I learned a lot of interesting things about Aakash and the prison during our hour visit. To give you the whole context, he is 31 and from a small village in Nepal. He lost his father 6 years ago, and his mother only a year ago. His mother's death in particular seems to have affected him a lot. He was the only son, and he shared that him being in prison had hurt his mother a lot. They used to talk everyday and everyday she would cry for him to come home. Unfortunately that didn't happen before she died which I am sure eats at him. He has the chance to go out with friends, a privilege the prisoner/guards earn, which they call "facilities." But he said that he hadn't had any desire to have that kind of fun since he lost his mother. He does have two sisters thankfully, and 3 nieces and nephews. When he gets out he will live with his sister and her family in Kathmandu. This sister seems really supportive and close to him, bringing him things he needs as well as expensive gifts, like a $1000 Armani watch that he was wearing. Wow! Apparently she is pretty well off.

 

About 9 years ago while in Kathmandu Aakash was charged with possession of brown sugar (heroin) that was found on his bike. He said that the drugs were his friend's but there was no winning his case. He was sentenced to 10 years while his friend was sentenced to 15. The old friend is in another jail and they are no longer in contact. I am assuming from the difference in sentence that there was acknowledgement that the drugs were his friend's but it didn't matter so much in the end as they both received long sentences.

 

Prior to his charge Aakash had been living in Singapore with his Nepali girlfriend, working in the clothing export business, he had lots of friends and had travelled to places like India, Thailand and Malaysia. Pretty worldly for a Nepali I would say.

 

After his charge his girlfriend left him and has since married. He doesn't like to think of her, and laments the fact that he has lost so many years without a girlfriend, not being married or having children which he hopes to do in some years after he gets released and settled.

 

As a prisoner/guard he gets a reduction in his sentence by 2 months per year. He expects to be out next July which will be close to 10 years.

 

Because I'm infatuated with prison life I asked about his routine as a guard. First of all, there are 670 male prisoners in his prison, and I imagine it's pretty full back there. He is considered to be living "outside" though and as the boss gets his own room. He has a heater, TV and like Surendra, a dog. His first job of the day everyday is to go to the market (with police escort) to buy vegetables for the prisoners. He is also responsible for disbursing money and rice to the prisoners. They get 45 rupees and 700g of rice disbursed every 10 days. That makes 450 rupees for 10 days of food and everything else one needs (soap, toiletries etc). That is $6 and I can tell you not nearly enough to survive here. Anybody you talk to here confirms that, and anyone who knows the prison system also confirms that without outside money it is impossible to live.

 

Now with the fuel crisis it is ever worse as there is no access to fuel and/or people can't afford it. So they are currently bringing in firewood to cook with.

 

But Aakash is definitely a lucky one as he seems to have enough money to buy what he wants and has the support of his sister as well. In addition, because he is responsible for the market shopping everyday he can buy what he wants i.e. his beloved Nescafe Gold.

 

Apart from those duties, everyday he has to meet with the warden to report on what is going on with the prisoners inside. That explains why it was no big deal for him to go talk to him for me the day we first met.

 

I also wanted to talk to him about the earthquake. In his jail 16 people died and 45 were injured. There are different sections of the jail i.e. the women's jail where Proscovia is, and there were no deaths/injuries anywhere else but his jail. He explained that this was because his building is a 100 year old, 3 storey building and it just crumbled with the tremor. The people who died were old or sick and they couldn't run to safety. Aakash pulled many people to safety himself and said that the police were very helpful at the time as well. It is so odd to hear as there is absolutely no animosity towards the police. All I heard was respect.

 

He acknowledged that it was very scary after the initial quake and said that the 12 prisoner/guards that technically work "outside" slept out in the visiting area for a long time as they were too busy to be indoors. I imagine the hundreds on the inside were terrified though, especially with the building crumbling and people dying around them. I had also wondered if they had had supplies after the quake when the whole city was in chaos. Apparently for some time they only didn't had the basics, rice and dal (lentils) but they did okay considering.

 

I always wanted to know if there are any foreigners in the men's jail right now and surprisingly there are none. The infamous Charles Sobraz, a half Vietnamese, half Indian worldwide tourist serial killer remains in another part of the jail though. I have always known about him as he is quite famous around these parts, and interestingly enough there is currently a Bollywood movie about his life that I got to see since while here. Unfortunately he's not allowed visitors given his notoriety, otherwise you know I would be there :)

 

In talking about the prisoners, this "criminal" who is very soft spoken and gentle in presentation told me how much he "loves" his prisoners, especially the elderly and sick people. He buys them fruit and sweets and is well loved for how he treats them.

 

So after our coffee and chat, we were escorted back to the entrance by a police officer, I picked up my things and went on my way, back to my efforts to see a foreigner who this prison system says I can't see. Yet...



The Battle To See Proscovia

This trip to Nepal, my third, is going to be remembered unfortunately with great disappointment.

 

I hadn't planned to travel to Nepal this year but after the devastating earthquake that the country experienced in April 2015 I just felt I needed to go. One of the people I was most concerned about and felt the need to check on, was Proscovia, a Ugandan woman imprisoned in Nepal. We met in 2009, and spent a lot of time together during my prison visits that year while I was here. We maintained sporadic email contact after that and in 2012 I came back and saw her as much as possible during the month that I was here. I now refer to her as a friend rather than just someone I know in prison. And knowing that she has nobody in Nepal, nor an embassy to check on her wellbeing, I wanted to come and see her myself.

 

From what I know 16 prisoners died in Kathmandu during the earthquake. My friend was able to confirm through the newspaper that Proscovia wasn't one of them. I wasn't so much worried that she had died, but about how the prisoners were managing during a time of chaos in the country. I wondered if supplies were being brought in, and even more so, I couldn't help but think of the terror the prisoners would feel locked up inside when the rest of Kathmandu was so scared to be indoors that they were sleeping in the streets, or in the little green space that the city ha

 

 

I arrived late on a Friday night and gave myself Saturday to acclimatize before heading to the prison. I also knew that Saturdays were super busy at the prison as most Nepali people have the day off, and take the day to visit loved ones.

 

 

I knew from my last visit in 2012 that I would likely need to speak with the jail warden in order to be granted visits. Reason being is that sometime before that there had been a shooting by a foreigner, I believe an Indian national, against a Nepali, and so after that they cracked down on foreign visitors. You would think the bigger concern would have been how the guy got through with a gun but whatever...Instead the new rule was that you couldn't visit a prisoner unless they were from the same country. This is when Proscovia stopped getting visitors, mainly Canadian volunteers who arrived monthly and as part of their orientation were brought to the prison as I had been in 2009. Before I had left I had secured Proscovia's spot as one of the people they would visit, as a means of support for her. But this was no longer.

 

 

I recruited my best Nepali friend Prakash to come and communicate with the warden for me. Not knowing how it was going to go I packed my bag with only a few things for Proscovia..mainly basic clothing items. We walked there, a route that I have taken many times, and as we got closer I got more excited, but also more anxious.

It seemed very busy and police were everywhere, more than I remembered from before. Foreign visitors are rare so right away we were greeted and ushered to speak with the jail warden. I knew the way and so led us up. It's hard to believe how accessible the warden is to the public actually. His office has a simple curtain on the door, Prakash peeked inside, greeted him and in we went. He clearly is not worried about his safety as we hadn't even been searched yet. There were several other men sitting on a couch in his office, but despite him having visitors we sat down and Prakash went into his spiel about why I was there.

I should add that I was feeling so uncomfortable at this point, as I had chosen to wear a pair of jeans with a hole in the thigh area. Nothing skanky but I don't know what I was thinking in packing them to go to such a conservative country. I asked Prakash before we went if they would be ok, and he assured me yes. But as soon as I got there I felt like an idiot. And in fact, I now credit these jeans as the biggest packing failure of my life as my patch of white skin has turned out to be a beacon in the night for Nepali men. 90% of them stare at this hole, and so obviously so that it is insane! It honestly makes me feel like a naked whore. Sorry for my language. But that's how I felt that day, sitting there covering my hole trying to look respectable and at the same time cursing Prakash for telling me it was okay. Clearly he was just being polite :)

Anyway, I could understand enough from the random English words i.e. embassy, to know what the result was, and it wasn't good. My heart just sank.

I learned after that a couple years back, shortly after I was there, the rules had tightened even more and that now if you wanted to visit a foreigner, you needed a letter of support from an embassy. This was the worst news ever as I knew that a Canadian embassy wouldn't get involved in a matter involving a non-Canadian. I also knew that Proscovia hadn't received so much as a visit from a Ugandan embassy in the 7 plus years she has been imprisoned.

Prakash explained that I had visited extensively here before, the last time in 2012 with special permission from the previous warden. That didn't change things, but in the end he suggested that I try and find a police officer that knew me from before, I assume for some assurance that I hadn't been a problem before.

So out we went and I immediately started to scan everyone to see if there was someone that I knew. I've visited so much over the years that I was confident that I would know some officers, many who had been quite friendly with me, inviting me to celebrations, giving me their emails etc. I was kicking myself in this moment for not keeping names, or keeping in contact as you never know when you are going to need people, especially in a country when who you know can be so important.

So we stood on the dirt road within the prison while I searched for someone I knew. Other officers came over to find out what was going on, and Prakash proceeded to explain the situation. One officer who seemed to be high ranking came over and told us what we already knew in terms of the embassy position. He took us over to the registration area and showed us the directive in Nepali stating same. He was really nice though taking it upon himself to go around the prison with my passport trying to find someone who knew me. We continued to stand there which I was fine with thinking that the longer we stood there the better chance I had of seeing someone.

We waited for quite awhile and in the end he couldn't find anyone. He wouldn't let me walk over to one of the other registration areas where I used to know most of the officers but it probably wouldn't have made a difference anyway as we were told that the officers were rotated every six months. That could explain why I didn't recognize anyone. They all looked like they had just come out of high school. I was feeling so dejected at this point.

Then as we continued to stand around with a bunch of officers a group of guys walked by. My story started to be re-told again. Well all of a sudden I hear one guy say to me something like "you visited Jerry." I screeched "yes" and I was so excited that I think I hit this guy on the arm as if to say yessssss you know meeeee!!!!

Teo Jerry was the first prisoner I met in 2009. A man from Nigeria who had been imprisoned in Nepal for over 20 years on a drug trafficking case. I spent a lot of time visiting Teo before he was released and it was he who told me about Proscovia. There was a small group of African prisoners in the prison at that time and they all looked out for eachother. It bothered Teo that Proscovia had been in prison for 1.5 years by that time and hadn't received a single visitor, as in the Nepali prison system it was hard to survive without outside support.

I didn't recognize this guy really but he recognized me from this time when I used to visit Teo, as well as my buddy Surendra, a Nepali who had since been released. When he also mentioned Surendra's name I could have kissed him as I had lost contact with him when he left Facebook. He told me that Surendra was currently in Europe but that he was returning soon. I was thrilled to hear that as I was really hoping to see him while I was here, and as a free man for the first time.

Turns out this guy, named Aakash, is like Surendra in that he too is a prisoner, but also a guard.

If you haven't read my previous blogs about the Nepali prison, the system here is really interesting in that like any other prison the police guard the outside of the prison, control who comes in and out etc. But it is the prisoners who actually run the prison from the inside. So once you are allowed entry and go to the section of the prison where you are visiting, it is the prisoners who are fetching the person you want to see, telling you when you have to go etc. And they control everything else that needs to be controlled on the inside. Being a prisoner/guard is an earned privilege and along with it comes some perks such as getting escorted outings, being able to order things from the outside, and walk around the prison grounds freely as Aakash was doing. Surendra even used to have his own dog in the prison!

Prakash was shocked at this; that Aakash was walking around freely, how others were referring to him as "dai" which means "older brother" reserved for any male who deserves more respect. He also noted how Aakash was dressed so well and that he walked very confidently as if he was someone important. Surendra was the same way.

Aakash explained that he had been caught with drugs almost 10 years before and that he had served about 9 years of his sentence. He was set to get out in about 6 months and was obviously looking forward to it. I took Aakash's number so I could have him pass on my number to Surendra. I was super excited about this..something good was happening at least.

Since I had technically found someone who knew me and he was a guard, I asked Aakash if he could vouch for me with the warden. He was fine with that so back we went, this time Prakash and I waiting outside while Aakash went in to talk to him. He was in there for some time (and again, how fascinating of a system that a prisoner can just walk in and talk to the warden). That would never happen in North American prisons. Unfortunately though Aakash's "reference" didn't do me any good as the warden's position didn't change. I needed a letter from an embassy. Why he had me go try and find someone who knew me when it made no difference in the end I'm not sure. But I thanked Aakash for trying and we left, me despondent.

I wrote to the Canadian Conuslate in Kathmandu about the situation that night. After no response, two days later I went there in person (which was a feat in itself to find). Upon arrival I learned that it was now just an "Honourary Consulate" open only 3 hours a day 5 days a week, with no Canadian staff and with no real powers to do anything. Apparently Harper shut down the Embassy here a few years ago. Thanks for that Harper..really stellar decision with thousands of Canadian tourists coming to Nepal each year.

That same week I met a Canadian girl from Montreal who had been robbed and needed to get a new passport. This "Honourary Consulate" brainchild was a nightmare for her in a time of crisis. And for me, it wasn't so positive either. The office was a rinky dink, one man kind of operation that as soon as I walked in to I thought was a make work project. It didn't seem like the guy did much of anything. And he pretty much told me this, that he wasn't able to do much from Nepal, and that anything official needed to be done at the Embassy in Delhi.

This guy was quite familiar with the new rigid prison rules as it turns out that he has to jump through the same hoops. Reason being is that there is a Canadian man serving a lengthy prison sentence in another part of Kathmandu. He visits with him quarterly which is a Canadian Embassy standard whenever a Canadian is imprisoned abroad. The new rules mean that he needs to get a letter from the Canadian High Commission in New Delhi each time he plans to see this man.

In regards to my situation, this Nepali guy, who I didn't have the greatest impression of, tells me that he had just returned from some training in Canada (2 days before) and hadn't seen my email. There were so many emails after 2 weeks away apparently. The only thing he offered to do was forward my email, which I needed to send to him again, off to New Delhi to see if they could help. But he added, it was unlikely given Proscovia wasn't a Canadian citizen.

He suggested I could try the British Embassy as he believed they used to provide support to citizens from countries with no embassy here in Nepal. I had actually tried them years before to get Teo some help, but hadn't had any luck, but I was willing to give it a try so off I went. Thankfully I remembered where to go.

Well that ended up being an all morning waste of time. Long story short I waited forever to get an answer as to whether they would assist someone from Uganda. I was feeling encouraged when I was finally told to go over to the Consulate building as someone wanted to talk to me. But when I arrived a guard with not so great English and I doubt understanding the situation, told me that as a Canadian citizen I wasn't allowed inside the Consulate. That if I was Ugandan they would speak to me but otherwise I had to email them regarding the situation. I was so frustrated by this point and couldn't believe I was being treated like this as a member of the Commonwealth! I emailed the British Embassy that night and have never received a response. Disgusting.

I also emailed the Ugandan Embassy in New Delhi. No response. I went back to the Canadian Consulate. My buddy didn't even recognize me at first, but he at least did confirm that he got my second email and that he had sent it to New Delhi. Apparently they were confused by the situation and had sent it off to Ottawa. The Consulate was going to be closed for a couple days that week for the Tihar Festival but he assured me he would email me if he heard anything. No word to date.

After not hearing anything from the Ugandan Embassy in New Delhi, I had a brainwave that perhaps I would have better luck with the Ugandan Embassy in Canada. So I wrote to them. No response. I then called New Delhi and actually got to speak with the Consulate, Debra. She told me that the email address on their website was wrong. That could be the reason they didn't respond. She also confirmed that the Ugandan High Commission in New Delhi knew nothing of one of their citizens being in prison in Nepal for 8 years. I was told to re-send my email.

Gaining some momentum from being able to speak with someone in New Delhi I next called Ottawa. A woman named Caroline answered the phone, telling me that the High Commissioner wasn't in the office. Our conversation started out with a simple explanation as to why I was calling, but turned into me telling her Proscovia's whole story. She listened, asked questions and expressed such compassion and non-judgement towards her, I was touched. She thanked me for my care and concern for Proscovia and expressed her hope that I would get a chance to see her. She told me to try back that day (which I did with no success) but that she would brief the High Commissioner of Proscovia's situation so when I called she would be aware. I was so thankful...

The next morning I called as planned and Caroline greeted me anxiously as if I was an old friend. I was passed on to the High Commissioner who like Caroline presented as being Ugandan like Proscovia. She started out by saying how touched she was that I was so concerned for Proscovia, thanking me for this and saying "all I can say is God Bless You." I expressed how lovely it was to hear care and concern for Proscovia, and more so the lack of judgement. She responded with something like, Crystal, if everyone ended up in jail for every mistake they made we would all be in jail. So true and so lovely..

Apart from those inspiring words she expressed that she wished she could help me, but that the High Commission in New Delhi as the closest to Proscovia was who must deal with the situation. I thanked her though and proceeded to call New Delhi again. After repeated calls and not being able to talk to Debra, I was passed on the message that my request had been forwarded on to Foreign Affairs in Uganda and that Debra would let me know when she heard something. I was so angry and frustrated by this point, I wanted to cry. All I needed was a simple letter and after 15 days and endless effort...nothing.

Not being able to connect with Debra and feeling that the pass off to Uganda was BS, I took a chance and reached out to Ottawa again given how supportive they had seemed. I wrote another email advising what had transpired since we had talked and that I was concerned that I wouldn't get to see her with less than a week left here.

As it is I have found it so hard to be in Kathmandu not being able to see her. To be so close yet there to be such a barrier. My time here has always been filled with prison visits and so I've felt a void without them. I've had a lot of free time and struggled with boredom, at times thinking of leaving early. But it's been too much of an effort to just bail out now. I have to see this through.

One day I took a chance to walk by the women's prison just to see, in hopes that maybe one of the guards would recognize me and call me over. It's kind of in an odd place as it is off a public road with stores and such but there are police all around. I pretended I was going to a store and just kept walking by seeing all the guards sitting outside as per usual. Nothing great happened like someone calling me over. On the way back the guards asked me where I was going and diverted me another way. I was glad I went anyway..

So that's where things are at on Day 16 and with few days left. I'll pick up the calling again tomorrow and will keep you posted...



Nepal-It Aint No Paradise

Well, it's time to write about Nepal..

I'm not sure if it was a sign, a warning that this trip to Nepal was not going to be smooth sailing, but before I even left the airport I rat scurried by me as I was leaving the bathroom. I don't do well with rats. One of the only benefits of having bad eyesight is that I have probably not seen many that have crossed my path during my travels over the years. But this one I saw and I froze as it ran off. A Nepali sitting in the area said "it's ok it's ok, it's gone now," I am sure inwardly chuckling at my fear. I kept walking with goosebumps intact.

Thankfully my hotel turned out to be pretty good. It took months of research to pick as there are a plethora of options and the prices fluctuate. Nothing luxurious, but $17 US/night can get you a nice enough place, with hot water (essential in Kathmandu), Wifi and a free breakfast to boot. As a girl who can't survive without hot water, especially in a land like this where mornings and evenings are cool and there is no heat inside, having hot water was my biggest worry, and this hotel has thankfully not failed me. So I have stayed, and am now paying even less, $15 US a night. Can't beat that eh! :)

I don't think anybody would describe Kathmandu as a pretty city. It is a big, busy, noisy, dusty place used as a base for people here to trek and tour other areas of Nepal. But Kathmandu was to be my base while here, because it is here where the people I care about are, and the reason I came.

Because of how dusty and exhaust ridden it can be, one of the first things I had to do was get a face mask. I was already sick so I knew I would never recover without it. And no worries, I'm not the only yahoo here wearing one. They are pretty common even with the locals.

Thamel, the main tourist area in Kathmandu, hasn't changed since I was here. Shop after shop after shop of pashminas, blankets, handicrafts, trekking gear...I have no idea how the good majority even make a living. Like many other tourist places you get barraged by salespeople as you walk around here, as well by bicycle rickshaw drivers, people selling homemade instruments, tiger balm for aches and pains, and the drug dealers who whisper beside you "smoke?" The other day a young guy ran up to me gleefully announcing that he had hash. I graciously declined but he remained optimistic replying "sometime!" As I walked away I gave him a "you never know" in a singsong voice just to keep his hope alive.

I expected to see a lot more damage from the earthquake in Kathmandu than there is. My friend tells me that a lot of the debris has already been cleared away, but compared to the rural areas Kathmandu was very much spared. Sadly some of their main holy sites, also tourist attractions, have the most obvious damage, some of which is already being repaired, and some not. A friend of mine who is a business owner here, tells me that 4 billion dollars in aid has come into the country, yet very little has been done. The road from China to Nepal which brought 120,000 Chinese tourists to Nepal last year remains blocked with debris and in turn means 120,000 people worth of lost income for Nepali people. There is a sense of hopelessness here that their leadership aren't doing what is necessary to get this country back on track.

Impacting the country even more than the earthquake relief right now though is a fuel crisis. I'm not sure if the world even knows what's going on here but I sure hope so, as it is impacting the country even more than the earthquake did if you can believe that.

What happened is that in late October, India, Nepal's only fuel source, stopped sending fuel to Nepal. India says that it is due to security issues related to ethnic minority protests that are going on near several India-Nepal borders. The Nepali position is that this is a political move by India's leadership as they do not support Nepal's new leader or their new Constitution. Whatever the reason, and from all that I have heard, it does appear that this a strategic move on India's part, Nepal has been crippled by the lack of fuel across the country.

Individuals no longer have a means of transportation; thousands of motorcycles sit idle. Earthquake relief efforts have been quashed as trucks sit with no fuel to function. Local buses are jammed packed with people now needing to use public transport. Many bus routes are not running at all. Some international flight carriers have stopped flights to Kathmandu as they can't refuel here. Taxi prices have probably more than quadrupled. Medications and supplies are not being delivered to remote areas. And this at a time when winter is coming and with a good majority of rural people living in temporary shelters due to their homes being destroyed.

Apart from a lack of fuel for transport, cooking gas (which everyone relies on versus electricity), is also scarce. People are using firewood to cook or going without their usual fare. Prices for food has risen. Some restaurants have closed, and almost all now have limited menus to conserve gas. I couldn't help but laugh today when I looked at a restaurant menu created since the fuel crisis titled "India Blockade Menu." There is no question who Nepali people blame for their situation :)

Nepal has just brokered a deal to receive some gas from China but it will take time to get here and be distributed. It is also only 30 percent of what Nepal typically gets from India. The government has established systems in order to distribute the limited gas, but given the demand this translates to queing in the street for days. I have seen line ups of hundreds and hundreds of motorcycles waiting for fuel, and as well line ups of people with their empty gas canisters, some with blankets prepared to sleep in the street in order to be able to eat.

The black market for fuel is thriving, with a litre of fuel now costing 500 rupees ($6) versus normal 100 rupees ($1.50). Most Nepalese people can't afford gas this expensive so they are going without.

A Canadian girl from Montreal staying in my hotel had her bag ripped off her the other day by a man on a motorcycle. She lost her passport, credit cards, money, everything, and it has ruined her trip. She tells me that she has heard of several other incidents of tourists being robbed in the last week. I have been to Nepal three times, and for a total of probably 5 months and I can tell you that this kind of thing is so so rare here. This is not who Nepali people are and speaks to the desperation here. Tourism is at 30 percent of what it usually is, and it's peak season. Now with this fuel crisis the situation is so much worse for people.

So when I get frustrated by the noise, the pollution, the constant attempts to sell, I have to remember that I have it so good compared to the Nepali people. That said, should you be cursing me for being away right now, please take some comfort in knowing that I am in no paradise! :)

With that, it's time to put on my face mask and get out there!

She Calls Me Auntie-Beatrice's Story Part 2

I watched and waited 3 weeks for Beatrice, each Thursday tucking my Ipod in my pocket so I could pull out the picture of her family when I saw her. But nothing. I was anxious.

 

The 4th week though, was the annual Gifts of Grace summer BBQ, their birthday party. It was going to be a big event with hotdogs, coleslaw, chips, desserts, ice cream...and with a local artist doing caricatures of people even. The weekly volunteer crews had been spreading the news and there was a poster up as well so our patrons knew it was coming up. I knew it would be a big event for people and that there was a good chance that Beatrice would come.

It was a high tech operation and all the stations were covered BY volunteers. That was okay with me as I am most happy in the role of greeter, just chatting with people as they go through the line. So that's what I did.

 

Before the BBQ even started I had a trick played on me. An older lady carrying a garbage bag of stuff said she needed to go to the washroom before dinner was served and asked if she could leave it with me while she went. She stressed several times that she had a month's worth of groceries in that bag and that it was imperative that I not lose them. I reassured her several times that no worries, I would take care of her stuff. So she tucked it under the wheel of a truck and off she went. I did my job, and I would say quite diligently, as I didn't want to be responsible for losing all her food. But this bag watch went off for quite some time, and you know, I do like to talk so eventually became engaged in a conversation with someone else. All of a sudden the lady re-appeared and screeched "my bag is gone!!" I turned and looked quickly and sure enough it wasn't there! Well I panicked!! Thankfully she didn't leave me in that state for long, and lifted the bag that she had sneakily snatched back without me seeing, and smiling proudly at her prank. I told her she almost gave me a heart attack!

 

As the BBQ got going I had some interesting small chat with folks..some new folks and some I have known for awhile either through Gifts of Grace or my professional life. I always enjoy banter about the weather with one of the regulars, an older man who always wears the same heavy, worn and ripped up jacket with the hood up even if it is 35 degrees. He always greets me with a "how are you dear?" and is a gentle soul with I suspect some mental health issues. We chatted about how unusually cool it was at night already. He told me that he had already had to use a candle to keep his legs warm at night on the street.

 

When goosebumps appeared on my arms from the cold, one guy suggested that I try drinking anti-freeze to keep me warm. He said it worked for him but I responded casually that I wasn't strong enough for that sort of thing. To each their own he said cheerfully. You never would have known from his appearance that he drinks anti freeze. I myself can't imagine...

 

Then came the girl that I wrote about in "The Meaning of a Picture," a former client of mine from my CFS days for whom I had saved pictures of her son. You may remember that she lost those pictures soon after. Well thankfully I later found another one in my treasure trove of mementos from those days, this one of her son sitting on Santa's lap when he was about 2. This time I was smart though and took a colour copy of it for her. I had told her some weeks before that I had another picture for her so as soon as she saw me she was asking for it. The Santa picture brought a big smile to her face and she proudly shared it with her friends. Once again she told me that her son was now 15, and once again I said how old I felt given that he was a newborn when I had last seen him.

 

Then came an older man wearing a tutu like outfit, furry slippers and holding a stuffed animal which he said was his girlfriend's dog. We chatted briefly about him not being happy that his roommates had made a mess of his apartment. It was not hard to suspect mental health issues with him given his interesting choice of clothes, but I enjoyed the interaction with this friendly and interesting fellow.

 

It wasn't long into the BBQ that I spotted Beatrice coming through. I was excited that the moment was finally here, immediately went to her and walked by her side as she passed through the food line. I could tell right away that she wasn't herself. She seemed irritated. In hindsight I wish I would have chosen another time to talk to her given that she wasn't in the best of spirits, but I didn't know when I would see her again. So I went for it...

 

I started out by reminding her of our conversation about our mutual hometown, telling her that I had been there recently. I had her attention as I shared that I had run into a girl there who reminded me of her, and that shockingly she turned out to be her sister. She didn't seem surprised by this news and impatiently urged me to tell her the rest. It was difficult to tell this kind of a story as she was getting her food doled out, but I got out what I could including that I had a picture to show her. There wasn't much of a reaction when I pulled up the picture, and to be honest I was a little disappointed by how anti-climactic the reveal had turned out to be.

 

Maybe it was shock though. Because after Beatrice collected her food it was like she came alive, like the Beatrice I had met before. She wanted me to come and show her family, actually her street family, the picture of her birth family. As she introduced me to her street mother and brother, she shared that they had looked out for her since she was 16. Both looked at the picture and seemed to enjoy seeing Beatrice's birth mother and sisters, noting that they looked like her. After that Beatrice seemed bothered though, telling me that she couldn't give up her street family now (just because her birth family had been found), because her street family was her family. I reassured her that she didn't need to choose; that she had two families that cared about her.

 

She barraged me with questions, how her mom was, was she in a wheelchair, when were they going to look for her again, what else did they say about her, and she even wanted me to show on my face how her sister had reacted to seeing her picture. I felt like I didn't have much to offer her as I hadn't really talked to them for very long. I just kept reiterating that they were excited to hear about her and to see her picture, and as well that her sister had come looking for her in Winnipeg. That clearly made her feel good as she started to blurt out to people this big news that after 41 years she was seeing her mother and sisters again.

 

We talked about how her mother had been an alcoholic, which she knew, and as far as Beatrice knew she had been given up by her mother at age 2. I told her that she may not have actually been given up; that she was likely removed from her mother's care due to her addiction. I shared my knowledge that she had older siblings who had also been removed and adopted. She knew nothing of this. I also talked about how the two sisters that I had met had been allowed to remain with her mother, but that I suspected their lives had probably been pretty tough as well given how their mom had struggled over the years.

 

It was at this point that Beatrice shared that she too was an alcoholic, was living at Siloam Mission and that she had been sober only 9 days. That explained why she seemed so irritable that day perhaps. It can be shameful to admit you have an addiction, so all I said to her was "well you've had a rough life." And she nodded quietly.

 

I wanted to tell her something else though, something that I haven't shared yet with you readers. Well if you already thought this was a crazy story, it turns out that I have another connection with Beatrice.

 

My mom was with me when I met Beatrice's sister, and with it being a small town, she knew who Beatrice's birth mother was, how she had struggled with an addiction over the years, and how her children had been removed. What is crazy is that she told me that day that my aunt and uncle had fostered one of Beatrice's mother's children back in the 1970s. She just didn't know which of the children it would have been. Could it have been Beatrice we wondered???

 

So after that weekend I wrote my cousin asking her for information about who her family had fostered way back when. It wasn't long before it was confirmed by some of my older cousins that my aunt and uncle had fostered one of Beatrice's older sisters "Dru" for several years. Can you believe that??!!

 

Despite having 6 kids of their own, my aunt and uncle had fostered as well, and had loved this little girl like crazy my mom said. That's just the kind of people they were...They had even wanted to keep her permanently, but at about age 3 she was placed for adoption with a family in Brandon. The adoptive family had sent some pictures after the adoption but my family never got to see her again. Her name was also changed with the adoption. It was clear that nobody in Beatrice's family knew what had happened to her. She is one of the Sixties Scoop kids I am sure.

 

I told Beatrice about this crazy connection, which also got little reaction, except that she became focused on what this connection made her and I...step cousin, foster sister etc. etc? In the end she just said "we're family."

 

I left her to eat and went back to my "post" as greeter. Well it wasn't long before she came back for me, with that huge smile and full of energy, wanting me to show person after person that picture, with glee sharing that she was seeing her mom and sisters after 41 years. She kept saying that...41 years. Well I must have shown over 10 people that picture!! She was just so excited, bouncing all over the place. I probably would have had to show 10 more people that picture had I not run into one of my favourite ex-clients who I had not seen in years. That was a lovely reunion as well.

 

Beatrice asked me to make copies of the picture for her, 20 to be exact, as she had a lot of people to share her family with she said. She also wanted me to try and get a letter to her family for her. Although it wasn't perhaps the best time to have shared the news with Beatrice, I did feel good in the end about how it was received, and hopeful that a connection with her birth family would be a positive thing in her life.

 

So that was that day...I am finally finishing this post months later and I have seen Beatrice many times since during my Gifts of Grace outings. She always seeks me out, and now calls me "auntie." I guess that is what she has decided that I am to her given that my family cared for her sister. I never know how she is going to be that day, as some days she is happy and full of energy, hugging me, anxious for the pictures and even talking about us taking a road trip together to see her family. Yes Thelma and Louise style :) Other times she has been so angry...angry at her mother for giving her up, even saying that if she saw her, that she would punch her for what she had done to her. She has also said that she wished she had never found out anything about them because of the tough life she has had as a result of her mother. Other times she has been annoyed and irritated with me for not having the pictures I had promised. That was how she was the last time I saw her. She also wanted my phone number because apparently her street mother wanted to talk to me about her family. Needless to say I didn't give it to her.

 

I unfortunately didn't get to give Beatrice the pictures myself before I left, so asked Bob, a Gifts of Grace founder, to pass them on to her when he saw her again. He recently sent word that they had been passed on and that Beatrice was thrilled to get them.

 

So for now folks, that is Beatrice's story. I continue to think what an unbelievable story this turned out to be, all starting with me talking to some random girl with a familiar smile. I never thought that it would have a fairytale ending with them all reuniting and being one big happy family. Too much damage has been done for that, and although I hate to use this term, they are damaged people.

 

After years and years of working within the child welfare system, I do believe though that every child has a right to know who they are and where they came from, good or bad, and that at a certain age they should be able to make the decision themselves as to what kind of relationship, if any, they want to have with their birth family. Beatrice now has this opportunity, and it will be up to her. If I can help facilitate some sort of contact, then I will, as she has enough barriers in her life as it is. Beatrice's relationship with her mother may be irreparable but my hope would be that at least she and her siblings can connect in some way. Because after all, it isn't their fault how their lives played out.

I guess we will have to wait and see....

 

An Incredible Chance Experience (Beatrice's Story)

As you probably know by now, I volunteer with the Gifts of Grace Street Mission serving dinner to the homeless in Winnipeg's North End.

Each week I chat with familiar faces as they pass through the line, and with my favourites who I know by name. I am always meeting new people, people whose name I try and learn, so we have that connection when I see them again. They're often surprised that I remember; just as surprised as I am when they remember mine.

 

There is one girl (and by girl I mean 41 as I now know) who comes periodically and who has stood out to me for a long time. That's because she always seems to be cheery and smiling which is lovely to see in a lineup of people who have little to be happy about. So many are battered with bruises, damaged from substances, or tormented by mental health issues. These issues mixed with poverty are a sad sight.

 

A number of weeks ago this girl came up to talk to me. At first she wasn't making sense and I kinda just played along, but then she got more serious talking about the people we served, pointing out that they didn't have nice clothes or things and that when I was there, I needed to really be with them, to understand them. She spoke with a lot of passion.

 

It was then that I had a chance to ask her name. Her response came across as what I would call "wannabe street," you know, rattling off her full name as well as nickname all gangsta-like, which didn't quite fit. I suspect she may have some cognitive delays and/or mental health issues rather than being a gangster. But anyway her real name was Beatrice (which she doesn't go by but which I will use here to protect her privacy).

 

Now, the next logical question for me is always, "where are you from?" I always like to know that about a person as it always tells me something about them, and often creates connections that you would never know about otherwise. Well wouldn't you know when I asked her, what I got was my own hometown! She went on to tell me that she grew up in foster care and was in and out of homes there until moving to Winnipeg at 14-15. She didn't look at me as she spoke about this and her gaze was far off. It was obvious that she didn't have fond memories of this time. I continued being a Curious Georgia asking her how old she was, thinking that maybe we would have crossed paths. Sure enough we were the same age so it was quite possible. I asked her if she ever went back, and no, she hadn't been back since leaving as a teenager. She also had no family to speak of. It was clear that there was absolutely no connection with a place that she had spent a good portion of her childhood. And that was definitely different for me, as anytime I have ever come across someone from my hometown, there is always some connection through people, places, whatever. I got a couple hugs from her before she left. It was obvious to me that she was a needy girl, and the little bit I had learned about her had shed some light as to why.

 

Well I just couldn't get that name Beatrice out of my head that night. It's not a common name and I don't know, something just clicked in me that Beatrice could be the same girl that we used to tease in elementary school.

 

The girl that I remember was dirty and disheveled looking, and she used to bring Klik sandwiches for lunch. She had been nicknamed "Klicker" as a result, as for kids that age, canned Klik was the worst thing ever. But clearly not in her house, or rather as I suspect now, it was all that her family could afford. As a kid you don't realize these things, but I sure do now. Although I have no actual memory of calling her names myself, do I have to take responsibility for being involved, as I doubt that I tried to be her friend and make things better, or try and stop the teasing from happening. Kids can be so cruel.

 

So I was now mortified, that the girl that we had bullied way back when could be Beatrice. Even worse was knowing what her circumstances had been back then, and that we classmates could have caused her more pain. I was just sick about it. I emailed a couple elementary school friends that might asking them if they remembered what the name was of the girl we called Klik. I didn't want to taint the "investigation" by giving them Beatrice's name at first, but when they initially came up with nothing I asked them about the name Beatrice. It rang a bell to one friend, but thankfully after some back and forth and jarring of memories, we came up with another name rather than Beatrice. I was so relieved. That is perhaps bad to say as the real "Klicker" is still out there somewhere, and I still feel bad for her. But I was relieved knowing that I hadn't contributed to Beatrice's childhood misery.

 

Now I don't mean to turn this into a Dr. Phil teaching moment, but this was really an "Aha moment" for me (now I am quoting Oprah and referring to Dr. Phil all in one sentence which says a lot about me , yikes!) But I will admit that I do watch their shows, many of which about have been about bullying. It has reached the point where kids are killing themselves because of bullying and bullies are actually killing the kids they are victimizing. It's crazy. These shows had merely been "entertainment" to me and really hadn't hit home. But I had never dealt with the issue firsthand, coming face to face decades later with a girl who very well could have been the girl we called Klicker. Learning the real story of why she perhaps wore ratty clothes, or was dirty, or why she had less than desirable lunches. It was a reminder that you never really know what a person's circumstances are behind an appearance, and that by judging, teasing, bullying or whatever, that you could be causing that person more pain.

 

All I can say is that I hope any parents reading this will instill this message into their kids. One person's suffering shouldn't be another's pleasure, for whatever the reason may be.

 

I had planned to write about coming face to face with my own bullying thanks to Beatrice, and her name was going to be the title. But I never did, and little did I know, there was way more to add to this story.

 

Weeks later I went home for the annual summer rodeo, always the highlight of the year there, well for me anyway. The town fills with people, there's a parade and a fair with the standard rides, sinfully good food, and some honky tonk cowboy events to boot.

 

Saturday I dragged my mom to the grandstand to watch some chuckwagon races (this is what you become interested in as you get older clearly as when I was younger all I wanted to do was walk around and eat haha). When that was done we headed to the beer gardens, ironically where they only serve beer, something I don't drink. Nevertheless, my mom, her friend and I snatched the last seats at one of the picnic tables and sat down. The only others at the table were a girl in her early 20s and an older guy likely in his 50s. The two were drinking like everyone else, and presented as quiet and to themselves. I have to admit that I was kind of intrigued with them from the start as they seemed like an odd couple. As I said he was a lot older and used a walker. But for all I knew he was her uncle. Anyway, apart from that what I noticed right away about the girl was her smile. I had seen it before. It looked like Beatrice's.

 

I kept looking and looking, trying to get up the nerve to say something. It wasn't long before I just had to. So I asked her "do you have a sister named Beatrice?" (but I used the name she goes by rather than her real name Beatrice).

 

The girl said no, and didn't really engage further. So I didn't either. Seconds later though she asked me why I had asked, so I said "you just look like someone I know." She prodded further so I told her I had met a girl named Beatrice (and I gave her full name) in Winnipeg and that she looked like her. Well people, you may have guessed by now what's coming, but honestly!!

 

Her eyes came alive as she announced that she did in fact have a half sister named Beatrice and that she had never met her. The sister, who I will refer to as Beth, went on to tell me that her mother was an alcoholic and that as a result her older children had been taken from her by CFS. Her two youngest children, Beth, and an older sister; however, had grown up with her. I have to assume that the mother had pulled her life together enough that she was allowed to parent later in life as there are about 17 years difference between Beatrice and Beth. Anyway, Beatrice and her sisters had never met. And their mother hadn't seen Beatrice since she was a child, I'm not sure what age.

 

I didn't share exactly how I knew Beatrice, just that I had met her downtown in Winnipeg through some volunteer work. And honestly I couldn't share anything more as I really didn't know much about her current situation. But, now the puzzle pieces were coming together. Beth was fully engaged by this point, really excited and just in plain shock that I knew her long lost sister.

 

I told Beth that when I saw Beatrice again that I would tell her that I had met her sister. She wanted me to pass on to Beatrice that their mother was still alive, but that her father was not. I said that I would.

 

Then as we were talking I remembered that there had been a picture of Beatrice on the Gifts of Grace Facebook page. I told Beth that I thought that I had a picture of her sister, which of course got her super excited. While she sat and waited I scoured Facebook until I found it, and then showed Beth a picture of her sister, a sister she had never met.

 

It was such a moment. There was such amazement in her eyes, I'm sure as well because there is a real resemblance. It was emotional for her to see, and after some drinks I'm sure even more so. She couldn't stop looking at the picture.

 

Then she wanted to show her cousin and jumped up to show him at the next table. Although she had asked me first I have to admit that I did have a fleeting thought that that may not have been the best idea. But she quickly showed a guy at the next table and returned. Before I put my phone away, she asked to see the picture one last time.

 

Well then we were fast friends! She was I'm sure overwhelmed with this news and so wasn't very focused on her buddy anymore. Rather she wanted to keep chatting with me. The rest at my table thought the situation was crazy I know.

 

Still pretty pumped up, before long Beth asked if she could take the picture to show her mom and sister who were also at the rodeo. She added that they were mad at her because she was drinking. She was celebrating her birthday that day she said.

 

So I was like welllll, why not!? I wasn't going to let her take my phone herself though, so off we went to go look for her mom and sister. We found them easily and I'm sure as we approached them they probably both thought what the heck Beth was doing with this chick?

 

Her mom was pretty worn looking and was in a wheelchair. Her older sister, and full sister to Beatrice (yet with less of a resemblance to Beatrice than Beth), seemed to be her caretaker. Beth explained to them that I knew Beatrice. And so I pulled out that picture again, and showed a mother a picture of a daughter that she hadn't seen since she was a child. Also a picture of a sister that she had never met. Incredible.

 

They all took turns looking at it, I think in disbelief. The mom told me that at least two other children had been adopted out, and that Beatrice and her brother had grown up in foster care together. The older sister told me that she had been in Winnipeg recently and had looked for Beatrice downtown but had no luck. The sister also shared how their brother (the one who grew up with Beatrice) always wanted to talk about and bemoan his childhood and that this made her uncomfortable. I got the sense that there could be some guilt on her part for not being removed like some of the others, and perhaps some animosity between the siblings for their different experiences. We ended our conversation with me taking a picture of the three of them in hopes of being able to show it to Beatrice one day if I see her again.

 

I'm not sure if even now it has sunk in what an incredible and chance experience that was. I'm not sure why it happened to me, but am thrilled that it did. As a social worker I know that not all family reunions are happy ones, and that there are deep rooted and longstanding issues in this family that will not be easily resolved. I also know that when I see Beatrice again, that I will need to be sensitive, and not treat this experience as such a joyous occasion, as it may not be for her. But I do hope that by Beatrice knowing that she has family and that they are looking for her, that it will make a difference in her life. That perhaps re-connecting with her family, having roots, and a sense of belonging may provide some healing. For all of them.

 

My heart is warmed by this experience, and I hope yours is too by reading Beatrice's story :)

If you want to read more about my experiences here and abroad, please follow this blog, It's All About Karuna, or "like" my Facebook page with the same name. Thanks for reading!

　

　



Karuna Shelter Donations

This has been a looooong time coming, and I really apologize, especially to those who sent donations for the shelter and who have been waiting to hear what I did with them. The creative process just hasn't come easily to me in the last few months..

To be honest I was nervous about the donations. I had never expected to receive so much money for the shelter, especially without even asking. I was so humbled by the support for my little shelter, it was truly unbelievable. Shockingly $1700 was collected and so never having expected that

I left here thinking "holy man, what am I going to do with that kind of money??" I was worried that I wouldn't be able to come up with enough ideas to use it all, and would let everyone down in the process. 

Shelter staff Alex and Thelma were shocked too. They never see much money coming their way and were clearly thrilled. I don't think they really even believed it at first so I had to keep reminding them to give me ideas as to what we could do with the money. 

I don't even know how it came up but before long they were telling me about a plan that they had had for a long time, and which they had put a proposal in for, to build a partition around the women's bathroom. 

As you can see from the attached pictures, the men's and women's bathrooms are open, with a line of toilet stalls on one side, and with no doors. The showers are at the back of each room and again given the room is open one can see everyone coming in and out of the showers, changing etc. The staff area is in the middle and raised

Women's washroom. As you can see there is no privacy

higher so staff can see what is going on on each side. What's bad about it is that when people are at the entrance of the shelter they have a really good view of the women's toilets especially. So basically the women and children have no privacy. The staff don't even have a private bathroom to use which even I found stressful because if I had to go to the bathroom while I was volunteering I was screwed. So the new door would close it off so that nobody wold be able to see in. I was immediately thrilled with the idea as I had always felt that it was not a good set up and that it must be quite uncomfortable for the women in particular.

No doors!!

Thelma and Alex had had a contractor come years before I believe, and showed me a written quote that they had. It was going to be over $400. I didn't even have to think about it and said yep let's do it! I don't think it registered with them as to how easy it was going to be given that they had been waiting for so long. Within days they had talked to their boss, he had approved it and the money was handed over to start. After that I felt more relaxed about the donation planning given that the bathroom project was going to be a good chunk..

One of the other things that I had been thinking about for a long time was to implement a monthly birthday celebration. It may not sound like something important to do in the big scheme of things, but in the months that I had been volunteering at the shelter I had been struck by how many people didn't know when their birthday was when they were asked upon arrival. It was clear that some had come from such poverty that birthdays were insignificant. Many others were away from their family in order to work, were estranged from them, or simply had nobody to celebrate with. This is so sad to me as throughout my life birthdays have always been a big deal, and a highlight of the year. Cakes, presents, parties, cards in the mail..whatever. Recognition from those who care about you that it's your special day, and a day where you feel just that..well it's the best feeling. 

So my thought was to have a collective birthday party each month celebrating those who were having a birthday. I thought it could take place on Wednesday when the special dinner was provided by Panza Verde, and that afterwards there could be a cake for all to share. I knew it would be easy to do as everyone who stays has to provide their date of birth. So I ran the idea by Alex and he was all for it. I purposely didn't mention it to Thelma as her birthday was coming up days later and so I thought we could make the first one as a surprise for her as well as the others. 

The day of Thelma's birthday I picked up the massive cake that I had ordered; on it a message wishing all the December birthdays a Happy Birthday. It was a beautiful cake as you can see..

After dinner I snuck it into the men's area while Thelma was busy doing something, and we got the candles going while everyone gathered around with excitement. I was amazed how into it everyone was..all I can say is that it was a big hoorah! It got loud, they were doing some birthday rhyme in Spanish, singing and cajoling Thelma to dance. It was really, really  lovely as you can see from the videos...

Afterwards Thelma and the other 5 people celebrating their birthdays that month blew out the candles while I took pictures. It was so cute as some of the non-December birthday folks seemed to want to get into the picture action. I guess it was a sign of how special it was, and how a birthday celebration like that was not something they were typically apart of. This was what I was going for, for people to feel special, and to promote that feeling of family and connectedness within the shelter for those that didn't have that elsewhere. 

I love how Papa Nacho was totally into being in the pic with the birthday gang :)

Well something else really cool happened after that too. 

One of the December birthday girls was from Honduras and part of a group of 3 (2 girls and a guy) who had come to Antigua to sell their artesania (jewelry). I would see them sitting on the street trying to sell their jewelry during the day, and on nights when the shelter was open, they would arrive to stay. Other nights I assume they slept in the park.  I figured life must be hard in Honduras for them to live like that just to make a little cash. They hadn't been coming for long but presented as really nice people; very polite, friendly, and appreciative. Well while this was all going on the one birthday girl handed Thelma a necklace that she had made, and which they were hopefully going to sell. I thought to myself, what a kind gesture from someone who is essentially homeless, to give a gift to someone that she barely knew, and which was going to mean less money for her and her friends to live on. It was lovely to see..

We then served the cake, and man it was like a swarm of bees I tell you!! They were loving the cake, some coming back 3 times, including one of our oldest shelter clients, Adrianna, who never seems to eat anything. Well she was scoffing that cake down with glee! We actually had to turn her away after 3 pieces as we got to the end. I can't believe they ate that whole cake! 

The mad dash for cake

Adrianna loving her 3rd piece!

Manolo who you have read lots about celebrated a birthday in December, hence the cake in the face!

My 2 boys from Quiche..I was glad that they got to experience the party

Thelma seemed tickled pink with the gesture and that was cute. I told her about my idea afterward and she was all for it. I was relieved knowing that it was going to be her and Alex taking on the extra work each month ordering and picking up the cake. With that I left money for them to buy a cake every month for the next year as well as candles, plates etc. Another Karuna gift that would surely brighten the lives of these people who have so little...

My other idea was to essentially subsidize the shelter being open one extra night a week during the cold months (January and February at least). Alex and Thelma were on board knowing how much people suffer on the street on nights when it can go as low as 11-12 degrees, especially being the windiest months. 

Maria in her spot waiting for the bakery to close so she can sleep :(

Attached is a picture of Maria and another unknown homeless person hunkering down for the night in Parque Central (not something I would ever want to do, nor survive).

The bakery has now closed and Maria is bundled in a comforter that someone gave her ready for the night

One of the beautiful Parque Central buildings at night. Many homeless sleep in this corridor

An unknown homeless man sleeping

I knew that I would need to speak with the supervisor of the shelter for this proposal as it meant salaries, food etc. I was optimistic as I seemed to remember being told previously by one of the bosses that it cost $70/night to run the shelter. He had also shared that the shelter wasn't self sustaining as people didn't donate to the homeless, and that they typically sent donations to help children. As a result, the majority of God's Child donations went to their education program and hospital for sick children.You may remember my blog post "Adults Need Help Too" which spoke about this reality. So I was figuring in my head that if it truly was about $70, that we could definitely manage to subsidize a couple months of extra nights. I was excited by the possibility...

I had sent an email to the shelter supervisor before I went but didn't hear back. In all fairness I don't know that it got to him. So I just walked to the project one day and asked to speak with him. In hindsight I probably should have led the meeting in English as I could have expressed myself better, but I wasn't sure about his English level, sooo thought what the heck, might as well put the ol' Spanish lessons to use! I explained what I wanted to do, emphasizing that the clientele weren't the image that some have of the homeless. That we had families with children, elderly, and people with serious health issues. I didn't feel that he bought my pitch to be honest. I was told that the shelter was a significant cost to the organization, without donations to support it, and that they were actually thinking about closing it down. I was crushed. I tried to relay that people really do care about the homeless, and as an example shared how much money I had collected from friends and family without even asking. I told him that I felt more could be done to promote the shelter and the issues of the people that used it. In hindsight I hope that I articulated that I would even help, because of course I would. 

When I told him my idea about subsidizing an extra day during the cold months he made a call and came back with a $200 figure per night. I was shocked by it, and still don't agree that it's accurate but it was kind of left at that. Obviously I couldn't do what I hoped to do if it truly cost $200 per night. He was going to follow up with someone higher than him and get back to me. I left so dejected and depressed thinking that the shelter that I was there to support, and which I was working on new projects to improve, could imminently be no longer. And Thelma and Alex didn't even know. I never did hear back from him, and so the idea of the extra night was over. 

I tried to shake off that bad news and just focus on what I had come there to do. So after continued harassment of Thelma and Alex as to what they needed, we started to work on things like new blankets to replace the ratty ones, supplies to make the pizza donation nights easier (cookie sheet, spatula, aluminium foil), real spoons, large quantities of coffee and sugar so they would have a hot drink on Wednesdays when there wasn't one, toothpaste and other personal hygiene stuff. I was running around Antigua looking for all these things, bargaining when I could and lugging everything over. I definitely learned some new Spanish vocabulary and lost a few pounds in the process!

New blankets for the shelter

You may remember that on my first trip I had donated some money to help get hot showers for everyone. By this visit the hot showers were up and running and everyone was thrilled with the idea of a shower. Gone were the days when Alex and Thelma needed to harass people to bathe. Well for the most part, as there were still a couple of stinkers (literally) who clearly have other reasons for not wanting to shower. But the hot water was a big hit. Well one of the women's showers had broke so that was another project that the Karuna donations took on. 

The other major project that I wanted to take on was a Christmas party (pretty much for the same reasons as the birthday parties). Christmas is a big deal in Latin America. It's not about the presents at all though; it's about family being together, having special food, music, dancing and fun. So I wanted to do something for them knowing that this would likely be the only place they would celebrate. Well let's just say that it was a major undertaking! 

I started to write lists of the things that we needed, with the caption "El Gran Convivio" in my notebook which means something like "the big Xmas party." Well my Spanish teacher saw that and killed herself because of the enthusiasm behind it I guess. So from them on it was referred to as El Gran Convivio. 

First we talked to Panza Verde and thankfully they changed their traditional meal to the night that we wanted to have the party, which was my last night at the shelter. So I didn't need to worry about food, just dessert which was a big deal at Xmas. As luck would have it Thelma's son Patricio was a chef and made desserts so we contracted him to make "molletes," a special Xmas dessert kind of like timbits but lighter and in a sweet syrup. Delicious...We also needed to make "ponche," a traditional hot seasonal drink made with a million types of fruit. Thelma offered to make that with the help of Karuna donations. The day of the party she asked Silvia, one of our regular shelter residents to come and help cut all the fruit. It was really nice of her to come and help as there was a ton of cutting involved. 

So the days before the party I spent many hours going all over Antigua and even Walmart in Guatemala City getting decorations, special plates and napkins, Xmas music and most exciting, stuff for the Xmas gift bags!!

These bags were my baby! Before I left Winnipeg I had gone to Mordens chocolates, a Winnipeg institution, and bought a whole bunch of chocolates in the shape of a Canadian maple leaf, wrapped in red foil. They were so pretty! I went to the Forks and got maple flavoured taffy, and brought those loonie and toonie chocolate coins for another bit of Canadian flavour. At the Dollar Store I had bought some hats, mini gloves and special Xmas gift bags. My friends Sanjeev and Diana who have a dental practice in Portage la Prairie (shout out to Portage Dental Associates!!) had also  donated 50 toothbrushes for me to take so I was off to a good start before I arrived.

In Antigua I bought socks for everyone, and to go along with the toothbrushes, mini toothpastes which I had to search all over God's Green Acre for!! Everyone also got packets of shampoo and some local candies and chocolates. And for my two special boys that I referred to in an earlier post, the boys who had traveled far from home to work, well they got special bags with Kinder surprise eggs and all kinds of treats. 

I made 50 gift bags but had a list of special people who were going to get a couple extra things. I had brought some of my dad's infamous beaver tail wallets that he had made when he was alive, but which had flopped and been the butt of many jokes. Well he would be impressed as those wallets are now all over the world. I have given them to many special people in places that I have traveled over the years. Turns out they are great Canadian mementos and in Guatemala, guys such as Victor and Demetrio were going to get one. 

My sweet Maria got special gloves and a pink hat with a star that I thought would be cute on her. I had also brought some travel perfumes and my favourite fruit flavoured lip chap that the Honduran girls got. It was difficult but I was able to find Xmas name tags so everyone got a bag with their name on it, and with my special group getting something a little extra. 

And we certainly needed a pinata! Latinos always have a pinata at parties like this. So I was prepared to go searching for a big santa or something festive, and to fill it with candies as they traditionally do. Well it turns out somebody did it for me. I'm proud to say that my Spanish teacher (and now friend) Janeth went out of her way to ask her friend, who actually makes pinatas for a living, to donate a pinata, and another family friend donated the candies. I was so impressed with Janeth because when I had first met her I know she thought I was crazy for my interest in the homeless of Antigua. Her view was at the time was pretty common amongst Guatemalans just like in Canada where the common belief is that they're drunks, criminals and just menaces. But over time, with every Spanish class involving my stories, updates and passion, I could see her interest and compassion for my people growing too. She began to learn them all by name, remember their stories and ask me for updates. And I'm positive that she wasn't doing it just to make me practice in Spanish. 

Papa Nacho and Maria were the most visible for her to spot and so she would tell me when she saw them, even when I was back home. She even greeted Papa Nacho one day as he stood at his regular place guarding motorcycles, telling him that she was the gringa's Spanish teacher :) She also became my local advisor when it came to El Gran Convivio and was so much apart of the plan that she announced that apart from taking care of the pinata that she wanted to come to the party herself. I was floored really in how much she had changed in a short time. It was a real life demonstration of how compassion can spread and grow if we make the effort..

We didn't say anything to our shelter clients about the party as we didn't want people who normally didn't stay to come and crash the party. So we planned in secret which was killing me as I wanted to make sure all my peeps were there. Finally after days and days of planning and running around the day of El Gran Convivio arrived. Alex opened the shelter early afternoon and I showed up with all the supplies. Thelma and her helpers started to make the ponche while I got the gift bags ready. It was a stressful afternoon to be honest as we had so much to do and didn't give ourselves enough time. But it all came together eventually...

A bunch of poinsettas arrived from the organization's Xmas party for the kids and huge donated cakes, I don't even know from where. We got the traditional Xmas marimba music going, decorated with white lights, bows and such, hung the pinata from the tree outside, set up a Xmas tree, and my favourite purchase, a Merry Xmas mat at the door. 

Janeth filling the pinata

 

Janeth and I (las uvas jugosas)

The 3 Santas

Before everyone arrived I handed Alex and Thelma their santa hats adorned with flashing lights (oh yes we were going all out!) I took my usual place at the gate and greeted everyone with a special Feliz Navidad welcome. The atmosphere was immediately alive and festive. 

Our surprise guest, Blanca :)

One of the best moments happened then..I opened the gate and who was there? Blanca!!! Do you remember Blanca from my previous posts? The young girl who had grown up in an orphanage, who presented as childlike and had shared on my last visit that she had miscarried? Well she wasn't alone this time. She arrived with a newborn baby, only a few weeks old! OMG! I was so happy to see her but honestly scared to see her with a baby, especially when she told me that she had been kicked out of her boss' house where she and the baby had been living. Thankfully it had just happened the day before but still, she had spent the night on the street with the baby (who was so cute and I'm happy to say healthy looking as you can see below). The father hadn't been involved since she had given birth and so Blanca was on her own. And she looked worried. So we all fawned over the baby and she seemed happy to be back. She was definitely going to get a special gift bag!

The santa pinata was hanging from the tree outside and we eventually all went out to knock it down. There was a young boy who the adults graciously let go first. Before long there was mad swinging, crazy commotion and it was down. 

I was still stressed, just wanting everything to go well. It got worse when the food didn't arrive as usual. I was so worried...we waited and waited and then finally someone called. Thank the Lord there had just been a driver issue, and the driver finally made it better late than never. We served the ponche, the excellent as usual Panza Verde dinner, and tortillas bought from our usual lady sitting in front of the chicken restaurant. After they received their special dessert which was a real hit. People didn't even have room for the cake (which says a lot). The music was playing and there was even some spontaneous dancing by Angel and Maria which was so cute :) 

Maria all dolled up and sitting elegantly :)

Serving ponche

Chef Patricio and his molletes

And then it was time to hand out gift bags! The week before I had given my two favourite boys from Quiche their gift bags as they were going home the next day and were going to miss the party. They were sooooo happy, you don't even know!!! I don't think they had ever received a gift like that..and they dipped right into their chocolate immediately. It was heartwarming..

My Quiche boys getting their gift bags

Clearly happy with her gifts!

I started with the children and women, and it became a mob. I had grown men on top of me asking if they were going to get something too. What does that say!? It was exactly as I thought..this was a big deal! I watched the Honduran girls slowly pull out and examine every item in their bag, and Maria who I think had got all dolled up for the party, just hold on to hers tightly. Unfortunately some of my special people weren't there, like Papa Nacho, Neftaly and Victor, but I left theirs with Alex and Thelma to give to them when they did come. 

Thelma and a couple other of our boys

The party didn't go as long as I thought it would; but then again the homeless have long days and so bed comes early. As usual a few people helped clean up, then everyone pulled out their mats and laid down to go to sleep. It helped with the goodbyes which were going to happen that night. I was leaving the next day so I had to run off and finish packing. So I made my rounds saying adios to everyone with special words and hugs being shared. 

Me and my peeps :)

One final Karuna donation was funds for "tamales" which are traditionally eaten at Xmas and New Years in Guatemala. If you've never had one, they look like a small burrito made of cornmeal, at times with meat inside and wrapped in a banana leaf. The shelter was going to be open on New Years Eve but there was going to be no meal as the project was closed. Well there is nothing worse than opening the shelter and not being able to feed people, especially on New Years Eve  which is such a special family night there. So we funded tamales for everyone that night.   

So all in all folks, between the bathroom renovation, the shower fix, the new blankets, miscellaneous supplies for the shelter, the addition of coffee for Wednesdays, the monthly birthday cakes, New Years tamales and most of all, El Gran Convivio, I would say that the Karuna donations were a great success!! To those who donated, I hope you agree..Please know how much your support was appreciated by me, and more importantly, by some really needy and lovely people. I do have some funds remaining which I plan to hold on to until the next visit (which is already planned) so stay tuned  :)

Oh and last thing..have you liked my Facebook page "It's All About Karuna" yet? Please do for more stories and updates about the shelter in Guatemala, other messages about compassion, as well as my adventures around the world!