Hogar Luby

Early last Friday, we had a group discussion on what has been the hardest thing to see during our first week abroad. For most all of us, the answer was the same: our visit to Hogar Luby.

Before leaving for Hogar Luby, we were told many times that what we would see would likely be very difficult for us to process, as Hogar Luby is essentially an orphanage for children with physical and mental disabilities. While nicely put, I found Hogar Luby to be something of a different nature, in truth, Hogar Luby is a place of abandonment. Families unwilling to, or unable to, take care of these handicapped children leave them in the hands of the caretakers of Hogar Luby, which is now funded by the Dominican government. Although it is considered an orphanage, the children here are highly unlikely to be adopted. With the constraints of poverty surrounding many Dominican families, care for these children is difficult to afford and most of them are hard to manage because they have no way of communicating with others. Thus, they are left at Hogar Luby, forced to live and die within the cartoon-painted walls that surround them, often with minimal human contact.

Let me describe for you my own experience at Hogar Luby:

As we approached the barred entrance, a small boy came running at the gate, grunting as the guard searched for his keys and pushed away some of the older children who were excited by our presence. This particular boy had severe deformities- he was missing an ear and the other one curled into his head as his bony arms swayed at chest level. As his eyes met mine, I could feel what these children were searching for: any form of human recognition, no matter how small. Unlike the children at Cien Fuegos, who were bartering for candy through the fence when we first arrived, these children were searching for human touch through the bars at the entrance of Hogar Luby. Once inside, their need for attention only grew. Suddenly, we were swarmed by children: small ones with misshapen heads running and begging for us to pick them up, larger ones with severe deformities who wanted to hold our hands as we walked, and older children who attempted to lead us around and kept touching our hair. That's when it hit me: If only here for today, I would be giving some of these children the most attention they had received in a long time. However, I soon found that I would be spending more than just today at Hogar Luby.

Walking upstairs may have visually been the most disturbing. At the top of the stairs, a guard opened a gate to let us onto the second floor. Behind the gate, a child crawled around on the floor with his hands fully bandaged. It was clear he used them to move, as his legs were immobile. He grunted at us and tried to pick himself up, falling onto his hand casts with a frustrated screech. There were several other children, asleep on the floor in their own piss and drool as flies swarmed their faces. It was my assumption they were immobile as well.

One little girl ran toward us, though it was first hard to tell she was female as all of their heads are shaven to prevent the spread of lice. Her legs were the thinnest I have ever seen- she looked like a skeleton with a head too large for her body. It wasn't long before she wet herself and was crying. It was then that we learned where the the largest of frustrations resides: the employees (what few Hogar Luby has) provide very little care. With a large number of children with disabilities, and a small number of employees, it is impossible for them to assist every child on an individual level. The few that we saw looked exhausted and were watching television in a room with children passed out on the floor.

As one of the girls in our group searched for a clean diaper for the little girl, I was approached by a boy with what appeared to be spinal deformities. Having scoliosis myself, I felt an instant connection to him as he hobbled toward me with his twisted spine. Unbalanced and in a green shirt, by the time he reached me his uneven hips struck my side as he had put too much weight forward trying to reach me. Looking down into his eyes, I saw him smile up at me. With his distorted neck attempting to look at me fully, he pulled at my t-shirt. Picking him up, I decided to carry him around while Mary showed us around the facility (as there was not a director and none of the employees were interested in doing so).

In effect, Hogar Luby is two floors. There are several rooms per floor with beds. A few rooms have televisions. The walls are all painted with fairies. There's also a kitchen, which I learned of through my new little friend awhile later. As we spoke with Mary about the poor care these children receive, she explained that the fact that some of them were moving and that most of them were in fresh clothes was a huge improvement from what Hogar Luby used to be. In place of beds, the children used to be kept in cages where they laid in their own waste all day. While some are still tied to their beds, Mary said their sheets and clothes are now changed more regularly. These small, but important changes, were due to the fact that the government took over funding for Hogar Luby. It was owned privately before, and instead of any money going toward health improvement, it went straight into the pockets of the owner. Now, she explained, the children were at least fed and their clothes changed on what appeared to be a daily basis.

Walking upstairs, I felt like I was in a house of misfits. Physically deformed and mentally unable to communicate, these children were left here to die because no one else wished to be around them. In fact, I would go so far as to say that no one else wished to even admit that this part of society existed.

It was at this point that the boy I had been carrying all day tugged at my chin. I looked into his eyes, turning my neck to match his twisted gaze.

"Agua!" he whispered.
"Agua? De donde la agua?" I offered back. As we had not been shown the kitchen, I was unaware as to where I could find him some.

He just stared at me. I was surprised that he had even made the request, as I thought he was maybe mute since he had not said anything when I had talked to him earlier. Therefore, I figured I'd need to find where it was on my own. Carrying him around as he kept gasping "Agua!" I looked for an employee, Mary, anyone. Stopping for a moment I replied, "Lo siento. De donde la agua?" Looking at me, he pushed with all of his force the phrase that I feel it had taken him this long to express: "En la cocina!" Gasping for air afterward, I could tell how hard it had been for him to get the words out. Still, it was as if he had wanted to tell me the entire time, but had just been working up the strength to.

"En la cocina!!! Gracias!!" I laughed, excited to see that he had been able to tell me something, anything.

Walking downstairs, I found the kitchen and was able to get him some water. My new little buddy drank three or four glasses, smiling at me the entire time, content that we had just enjoyed a small moment where we could communicate together. As I put him down to leave, I knew in my heart that this was where I needed to be during my time in the DR. To my relief (as we cannot choose a site alone), two others felt the same way. Hogar Luby is now our service site for the semester.

Looking back, the three of us soon realized what a challenge our time at Hogar Luby will be. Several of the people in our group left Hogar Luby with bruises, bite marks, and scratches because some of the children were so frustrated that they could not communicate. There was one particularly strong boy who crawled on the floor, much like a large ape would, and insisted on pulling everyone he could down to his level. Many of us remarked that it would be difficult because, unlike working with youth who may grow to make a difference here, these children will die within these walls and will make minimal progress in the four months we have to spend with them. Still, if I can have moments like I did with the child in green-just one child- I think my time here will be well worth it.

Leaving the site and grabbing a Coke to share with my group down the street, I was thankful to have found where I fit here. Today we're off to buy some toys to bring to Hogar Luby, which we will spend two hours at every Monday and Wednesday. Hasta luego!