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Written by Pam Harrison, Paramedics For Children

Let me take you on a tour of a place that has become special to many, many people. A place that will tug at the heart strings of even the most seasoned traveler. Angelitos Felicez Day Care Center and Orphanage. We begin our tour in the Central Park of Copan Ruinas, Honduras. We’ll walk approximately a block and a half north of the towns Municipal Center and one of the hottest gathering spots for tourists and locals alike. As we walk up the hill to the facility we will pass the Marina Copan, the most upscale hotel our little town has to offer. In the next block, we spot the orphanage where it sits sandwiched between the public health office and what appears to be a Mediterranean mansion by any standards. The climb is steep and as we arrive we will see a tall crumbling foundation wall topped by a worn, sagging chain link fence enclosing the courtyard area where the children wait impatiently for any visitor. When they spot us, and they will, they all climb onto and hang on the fence rocking it back and forth in anticipation of our visit, or a treat, or simply a hug. Their shining faces and gleeful shouts mask something that you will not uncover, or understand until later in your visit.

We now must holler our arrival from the gate so that someone will let us in. After a feverish, several minute search for the key, a volunteer will open up a rickety gate and welcome us inside. Before we can even reach the top of the tall concrete box with no sides or railing which is actually the staircase, we are swamped with children clinging to our legs, waists and necks. They are all shouting and laughing and smiling. Yet amongst all the happy shouts there is an invisible, competitive dance that is going on while the kids jockey for our attention. There never seems to be enough hugs or sufficient hands to hold all of these precious youngsters, who have somehow slipped through the cracks of a very poorly run social service system.

When we do finally make it up the 8 steep steps, which can seem to take forever, we emerge onto the common patio / playground / meeting place. Every time I make that climb I can’t help but think how lucky they are that they have made it another day without one of the children taking a head first tumble down to the bottom of that flight of stairs. The facility, which is no more than approximately 700 square feet, patio included, is strewn with toys, children, shoes, hair bands and clothes lines that are drooping with the freshly washed cloths that all the children seem to share. The clothes are clean, scrubbed and washed by hand in the small pila (water storage tank flanked by a concrete scrub board) and hung to dry. The pila is located right next to an elevated open fire pit where water boils and tortillas are grilling for lunch. The smoke from the fire is reminiscent of a campfire but unfortunately now is washing over the clean clothes as they wave in the tropical breezes high above the town. Also on the left is the one small toilet closet shared by all who live and work here. There is no shower stall and the pila is used for bathing as well.

The building is “U” shaped and as we stand in the center of the patio and turn from left to right we have already seen the pila, bathroom, and laundry area. Our next stop is the first indoor area. It is a small open room that houses an apartment sized stove, a refrigerator, and several low, long plastic and metal tables which are flanked by plastic chairs for meal time. When not in use the tables and chairs are stacked haphazardly against a wall to make space for meal preparation. As you stand here for a few minutes taking everything in, you begin to notice that this isn’t really a kitchen at all. There are no cabinets to hold the dishes which are stacked on every flat horizontal surface available gathering dust. There are no countertops for food preparation, but what strikes you most is that there is no sink, and no running water. Large 5 gallon bottles of potable water are lined up against one wall and dishes are taken again to the pila to be washed. In fact you begin to realize that this pila truly is the center, or hub, of activity. The children are feed in shifts and usually eat three times per day depending on the amount of food on hand. On occasion there is meat on the menu but not usually. Most days it is tortillas and beans. Moving along we see an open door in the corner of the patio. We poke our heads inside to see 5 double beds, several cribs and boxes of clothes and other supplies.

At first you wonder if this is some kind of disorganized storage room, but what you soon begin to realize is that this is the dorm where the children sleep. It is not one of several rooms, it is the only room. Infants, boys, girls, and adults share this room. More often than not in numbers exceeding 20 will gather together to carve out a small spot in which to lay their heads at night. There are a few blankets, even fewer pillows and those are usually reserved for the older ones that must sleep on the hard tile floor. Infants are sleeping 2 and 3 to a crib. Boxes are piled high in ever available inch of floor space. Some hold donations of clothing that are shared amongst the children. Some hold donations of infant formula or other supplies. Some smaller boxes hold the remnants of what is left of some of the borders personal items, saved from a life that they may never enjoy again.

The next room at the facility is at the back of the “U” shaped patio and is often locked. This is a small classroom, rainy day play area, and is also where donated toys are secured under lock and key when they are not being used. There are, like in all the rooms, holes in the old asbestos ceiling tiles and in the block, crumbling walls. Floor tiles are cracked or chipped, or just plain missing. Lead based paints have been used for years throughout, flaking in some places and just plain missing altogether in others. One small window high on the wall and one bare bulb hanging from the ceiling is the only illumination in the room.

Inevitably on this tour some one will ask, "How do these children come to live here"? The answer never seems to change, only the faces of some of the residents. The children are dropped off so that their parent or parents can go to work. Some parents come back at the end of the day and take their kids home. Some, never return. Sometimes the children are found by the Police rummaging through trash to find a morsel of food, or an old pair of shoes. Some have turned to less desirable ways of surviving. Instead of being taken to jail or turned over to the already overcrowded and under supplied social service authorities, which may or may not come to claim the children, they are taken to Angelitos Felicez, where there may be overcrowding, but everyone has a name. Some of the children as well as the adults that have come to call this home come looking for a refuge from serious physical abuse. It has become somewhat of a haven for this type of situation wherein the children are safe to attend school and the mother's are safe and are able to contribute to the common good of all the kids by caring for others and cooking and cleaning. It is always a win, win situation. Not perfect by any means, but better than the alternative.

Now back outside on the patio we turn to the last leg of our “U” shaped building. There are no rooms or structures jutting off this wall. You begin to wonder why no one has bothered to construct another dorm room or two on this side of the building. It seems like it would be so easy since the structural wall is already in place. All anyone would have to do is partition things off, run a little electric wire, screw in some light bulbs and things would be good to go with a few more dorm rooms to boot. But, as you ask me this, others in your group are starting to register, “why not”. This last wall, this wall that is so much better built than the others. This wall that is not crumbling and does not have weeds growing in the non-existent cracks does not actually belong to the facility. It is a common wall, and yet a supporting side wall to the Mediterranean mansion that sits on the adjoining property next door, screened by bougainvillea and palm trees that sway in the same tropical breezes that blow smoke over the freshly washed laundry that will be worn by the children tomorrow.

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