Threshold of Revelation
I feel so crazy right now I just have to get all of this out. I think this week, my last week in the house of unquenchable sadness, everything has just come to an impossible head. I am so mad, mad at fucking Ecuador, mad at the foundation, mad at Galo, mad at myself.
The house is impossible. What was the point? Everyone there is so concerned with their own fucking selves, I can’t believe it; the screaming children in the background, remember them? They are the most important thing. Alfonso is so preoccupied with his fucking dream of an AIDS-leper-like colony he isn’t even there ever. The fucking bitches, or the ‘viejas’ (old ladies) as Galo calls them, only care about their fancy social lives. They love being able to say, oh, I work with this organization, AIDS kids. So they come to the house for 5 minutes max, demand hugs and kisses from the kids, and float off, so damn pleased with them selves. Do they say in the house long enough to see what’s going on? Do they care? They do have their precious reunions every week, where they can eat cake and pat themselves on the back.
And the people living with the kids. Well, they have HIV. Every couple, or Cecilia, the single mom, has HIV. Fuck me, I’m not saying that HIV positive people can’t do anything, but lets just say they have their own problems. Like HIV for example. Besides the diminishing health, the emotional burden is too much. For anyone. Especially for someone who needs to give so much love and attention to these kids. Every adult, every child has come to me crying. Even the new house mom, Martita, who has only been here for two weeks. Cecilia cried with me, Galo has numerous times, and the kids cry almost every day. But what healthy couple would do it? There are four kids. One a baby, and all with severe emotional and behavioral problems, as well as the fact they have been rejected from all local schools (because everyone knows you can get AIDS from an HIV patient by just looking at them, let alone teach them and allow them to sit in a desk for 8 hours a day), so the kids are no picnic. And there is no pay. Just a little extra living money. So the people who do come, I don’t think really want to do it, they just have no other option because they are broke and sick and can’t work or aren’t accepted in their own families. So they are in a great state to work with these kids.
But this is great, I’ll just sit here, my paper done, all my little facts in place, and wait to return home to my family and friends, and my own car and the total freedom and privilege to do whatever I want, and just criticize all I want. Because what can I do, what have I done? Nothing. Alfonso won’t even give me five minutes to answer some questions I have (as I am trying to ask for donations from my parent’s church at home, and need more info to make a really strong, detailed case), so I don’t think he is too keen on listening to some US outsider complain about the way things are.
And Galo. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to say without being a huge bitch. He talked to me for nearly 3 hours straight today, telling me he can’t go on, he wants to kill himself, he has no family or friends, no one appreciates him, and he just wants to get drunk and never get out of bed. And he is dying. He has been living with HIV for four years, but I am certain he has entered AIDS stage. Everyday he looks worse; he is so skinny. So skinny, I think approaching 100 pounds. But can’t eat, or vomits it all up. And Emily found out that sores and bumps on the face are a sign of the lymph nodes going, and his face is worse everyday. And what can I tell him? He asks me all the time, what does my face look like? Do you think its better? And the fucking doctors here are so stupid. Not that I’m a doctor, but he is in bad shape. Today, he was shaking so bad. So bad. And I can’t tell him what I think. So I lie and say he looks better, and suggest ridiculous things to do, like drinking tea and getting more sleep. But there is nothing I can do. So he cries on my shoulder today, so depressed, and me, the bright eyed bushy tailed North American; I keep trying to give him solutions. Go see a psychologist, go do something fun, take a personal day, and call your friend who moved to Florida. But he rejects all these, due to money issues or just the lack of wanting to live. So finally I tell him, I don’t know what to say. I can’t make you happy, you have to get out of this. And I am so frustrated, because he has just given up on life. But how can I be like that? Can I even imagine what he has to go through? To know you are going to die soon and receive total rejection from your family, friends, and society at large while you are still living? Not to mention the fact that he is gay and that is a mortal sin down here in Ecuador. So he has no one. I was even naïve to think that he should find another HIV partner, until I learned that the risk of re-infection, that is getting a different HIV virus from a totally different person would totally fuck him up and progress the disease along.
And he adds to the list of worries the fact that I am leaving. And the kids have made it very clear they are not happy with my going to the magical land of America. The girls love playing house, and I always have to be the kid (with three mothers), and this is just funny ironic, because they love it when I act like a bad kid, so they can tell me to eat and behave, when those are the constant battles I face with them everyday. So, we were playing just like this yesterday, and they tell me I am punished for my bad behavior. My punishment? I’m not allowed to go back the United States. It broke my heart. And even more, I want to punch myself, because really, it’s going to be sad to live them, but more so, it will be relief.
Nothing has changed; nothing has gotten better. My measly two months have amounted to nothing. This new couple is not good. The guy doesn’t give a fuck. And the mom is having marital trouble with the fucker. He leaves everyday. We don’t know where. But I’m like, what the fuck were you thinking? Didn’t they tell you that you would be taking care of four kids? Or did you think it was a fun Quito resort? And the kids feel this. And they were crushed by the other mom leaving, and I’m only going to fuck them over more when I go.
So fuck you foundation Juvilus. That’s great, hold your little meetings, give each other blow jobs, but these kids are getting worse by the day. So poorly educated, nothing they can do. And there is a new law in Ecuador that people can’t discriminate in schools and work about AIDS. So why don’t these idiots use the money to get a lawyer and challenge the law? They don’t have to use the names of the kids; they can do it behind the foundation, spread awareness and get these idiots thinking about the reality of AIDS. Not only would these kids get into school, but EVERYONE HIV positive would benefit. Ecuador can’t fucking hide behind Jesus anymore. MAKE these people change. Don’t fucking cry about it. DO SOMETHING. But it just seems more and more that they just don’t know what they are doing. And the kids only suffer further.
The only solace I have is the fact that all my paperwork is filled out, my paper graded, I have nothing to lose. So if Alfonso ever sits the fuck down with me, I am going to rage. Well, as effectively as I can rage in Spanish. They can’t just waltz in, give the kids some more movies and take off. They started this organization, the least they could do is worry about the kids in it right now. Big dreams are important but people living NOW need more help.
Oh god, and speaking of movies, I’m watching Angels in America right now. Why? Because I bought it to give to Galo. What the fuck am I thinking? Does Galo want to watch AIDS patients dying? I was so stupid, I thought, maybe this movie would give him hope, show him others are suffering and work through it. Or at least he would enjoy the cute Joe or Prior. God, I am so dumb. Plus, my presence there is nothing but a downer, me with my stupid paper, asking endless questions about the AIDS situation here and not being able to hide my disgust at how bad it really is.
Fuck. Tomorrow is my last day. I’m not going to yell at the kids once. If they want to run around naked and burn the house down, fine. I just want them to have fun..
God I hate myself. Bitch bitch bitch. I just hope I get involved in something back home, somewhere where I can do something, make a difference. Fuck my crappy Spanish and the lack of power to do anything real here. And what is going to happen to these kids? I want to take them home with me, put them in school, and have my mom and dad look after them. I hate their goddamn parents who gave birth to them. They did nothing. No one deserves AIDS, but these kids DID NOTHING. They were born. Born into a life that I see as pretty crappy. They are so fucked for the rest of their lives. Or I don’t know, they might not live that long.
Ok, this is pretty intense. And I don’t know, maybe I shouldn’t have posted this, but I had to get it all out.
The house is impossible. What was the point? Everyone there is so concerned with their own fucking selves, I can’t believe it; the screaming children in the background, remember them? They are the most important thing. Alfonso is so preoccupied with his fucking dream of an AIDS-leper-like colony he isn’t even there ever. The fucking bitches, or the ‘viejas’ (old ladies) as Galo calls them, only care about their fancy social lives. They love being able to say, oh, I work with this organization, AIDS kids. So they come to the house for 5 minutes max, demand hugs and kisses from the kids, and float off, so damn pleased with them selves. Do they say in the house long enough to see what’s going on? Do they care? They do have their precious reunions every week, where they can eat cake and pat themselves on the back.
And the people living with the kids. Well, they have HIV. Every couple, or Cecilia, the single mom, has HIV. Fuck me, I’m not saying that HIV positive people can’t do anything, but lets just say they have their own problems. Like HIV for example. Besides the diminishing health, the emotional burden is too much. For anyone. Especially for someone who needs to give so much love and attention to these kids. Every adult, every child has come to me crying. Even the new house mom, Martita, who has only been here for two weeks. Cecilia cried with me, Galo has numerous times, and the kids cry almost every day. But what healthy couple would do it? There are four kids. One a baby, and all with severe emotional and behavioral problems, as well as the fact they have been rejected from all local schools (because everyone knows you can get AIDS from an HIV patient by just looking at them, let alone teach them and allow them to sit in a desk for 8 hours a day), so the kids are no picnic. And there is no pay. Just a little extra living money. So the people who do come, I don’t think really want to do it, they just have no other option because they are broke and sick and can’t work or aren’t accepted in their own families. So they are in a great state to work with these kids.
But this is great, I’ll just sit here, my paper done, all my little facts in place, and wait to return home to my family and friends, and my own car and the total freedom and privilege to do whatever I want, and just criticize all I want. Because what can I do, what have I done? Nothing. Alfonso won’t even give me five minutes to answer some questions I have (as I am trying to ask for donations from my parent’s church at home, and need more info to make a really strong, detailed case), so I don’t think he is too keen on listening to some US outsider complain about the way things are.
And Galo. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to say without being a huge bitch. He talked to me for nearly 3 hours straight today, telling me he can’t go on, he wants to kill himself, he has no family or friends, no one appreciates him, and he just wants to get drunk and never get out of bed. And he is dying. He has been living with HIV for four years, but I am certain he has entered AIDS stage. Everyday he looks worse; he is so skinny. So skinny, I think approaching 100 pounds. But can’t eat, or vomits it all up. And Emily found out that sores and bumps on the face are a sign of the lymph nodes going, and his face is worse everyday. And what can I tell him? He asks me all the time, what does my face look like? Do you think its better? And the fucking doctors here are so stupid. Not that I’m a doctor, but he is in bad shape. Today, he was shaking so bad. So bad. And I can’t tell him what I think. So I lie and say he looks better, and suggest ridiculous things to do, like drinking tea and getting more sleep. But there is nothing I can do. So he cries on my shoulder today, so depressed, and me, the bright eyed bushy tailed North American; I keep trying to give him solutions. Go see a psychologist, go do something fun, take a personal day, and call your friend who moved to Florida. But he rejects all these, due to money issues or just the lack of wanting to live. So finally I tell him, I don’t know what to say. I can’t make you happy, you have to get out of this. And I am so frustrated, because he has just given up on life. But how can I be like that? Can I even imagine what he has to go through? To know you are going to die soon and receive total rejection from your family, friends, and society at large while you are still living? Not to mention the fact that he is gay and that is a mortal sin down here in Ecuador. So he has no one. I was even naïve to think that he should find another HIV partner, until I learned that the risk of re-infection, that is getting a different HIV virus from a totally different person would totally fuck him up and progress the disease along.
And he adds to the list of worries the fact that I am leaving. And the kids have made it very clear they are not happy with my going to the magical land of America. The girls love playing house, and I always have to be the kid (with three mothers), and this is just funny ironic, because they love it when I act like a bad kid, so they can tell me to eat and behave, when those are the constant battles I face with them everyday. So, we were playing just like this yesterday, and they tell me I am punished for my bad behavior. My punishment? I’m not allowed to go back the United States. It broke my heart. And even more, I want to punch myself, because really, it’s going to be sad to live them, but more so, it will be relief.
Nothing has changed; nothing has gotten better. My measly two months have amounted to nothing. This new couple is not good. The guy doesn’t give a fuck. And the mom is having marital trouble with the fucker. He leaves everyday. We don’t know where. But I’m like, what the fuck were you thinking? Didn’t they tell you that you would be taking care of four kids? Or did you think it was a fun Quito resort? And the kids feel this. And they were crushed by the other mom leaving, and I’m only going to fuck them over more when I go.
So fuck you foundation Juvilus. That’s great, hold your little meetings, give each other blow jobs, but these kids are getting worse by the day. So poorly educated, nothing they can do. And there is a new law in Ecuador that people can’t discriminate in schools and work about AIDS. So why don’t these idiots use the money to get a lawyer and challenge the law? They don’t have to use the names of the kids; they can do it behind the foundation, spread awareness and get these idiots thinking about the reality of AIDS. Not only would these kids get into school, but EVERYONE HIV positive would benefit. Ecuador can’t fucking hide behind Jesus anymore. MAKE these people change. Don’t fucking cry about it. DO SOMETHING. But it just seems more and more that they just don’t know what they are doing. And the kids only suffer further.
The only solace I have is the fact that all my paperwork is filled out, my paper graded, I have nothing to lose. So if Alfonso ever sits the fuck down with me, I am going to rage. Well, as effectively as I can rage in Spanish. They can’t just waltz in, give the kids some more movies and take off. They started this organization, the least they could do is worry about the kids in it right now. Big dreams are important but people living NOW need more help.
Oh god, and speaking of movies, I’m watching Angels in America right now. Why? Because I bought it to give to Galo. What the fuck am I thinking? Does Galo want to watch AIDS patients dying? I was so stupid, I thought, maybe this movie would give him hope, show him others are suffering and work through it. Or at least he would enjoy the cute Joe or Prior. God, I am so dumb. Plus, my presence there is nothing but a downer, me with my stupid paper, asking endless questions about the AIDS situation here and not being able to hide my disgust at how bad it really is.
Fuck. Tomorrow is my last day. I’m not going to yell at the kids once. If they want to run around naked and burn the house down, fine. I just want them to have fun..
God I hate myself. Bitch bitch bitch. I just hope I get involved in something back home, somewhere where I can do something, make a difference. Fuck my crappy Spanish and the lack of power to do anything real here. And what is going to happen to these kids? I want to take them home with me, put them in school, and have my mom and dad look after them. I hate their goddamn parents who gave birth to them. They did nothing. No one deserves AIDS, but these kids DID NOTHING. They were born. Born into a life that I see as pretty crappy. They are so fucked for the rest of their lives. Or I don’t know, they might not live that long.
Ok, this is pretty intense. And I don’t know, maybe I shouldn’t have posted this, but I had to get it all out.