3 Febrero 2012

So, I might have, maybe, a little bit, gotten into it with Elvis’ mother this morning.

To the point where the entire kitchen went quiet and Don Juan had to come out and manage the cat fight.

Now that the family has seen how much I care about Elvis, they are 100% behind me in making sure he is taken care of and gets an education.

When I left my room at my usual 8am Elvis and his mother were packing up the donkey and alpaca. I am already a little bothered because the school is doing “vacaciones ultiles” or ‘summer school’ for the kids who are behind in their work. It is yet another opportunity for Elvis to catch up a little, that his mother is taking away from him by taking back up to the ranch. But this, I don’t bring up. I know she knows summer school is happening, and I know there is no way she will leave him here in the summer.  If you had a choice to have a personal slave 3 months out of the year would you let him be free those three months?

All I want to do in this moment is make sure that elvis knows school starts the second week of March and is planning to come back down before then. He looks down and doesn’t answer. This means no, bad news. He is so quiet around his mother, and so happy when I get him alone. The difference is so dramatic that my ears were already starting to fume.

I look to his mother. She says something in half quechua half Spanish about Elvis grandmother taking him to live with her in Castilla. I have no idea what Castilla is, so it can’t be anywhere nearby. So, I just say, as long as Elvis is studying, if he is going to transfer schools he needs to inform the school here to get his papers. It is easier and better for Elvis if he continues his education here. Then the woman switches to a very fast quechua, looks me straight in the eye for the first time today (ever?) and rattles off forceful words I don’t understand. I interrupt her, looking assertively back in her eyes, “You know I don’t understand you when you speak quechua so quickly, if you would like to say something to me, say it in Spanish.” Her eyes are already back to her donkey’s pack, her handles fiddling on rope. Such a weak, sad woman.

 By this time Don Juan is outside to manage things and says, “She said, ‘how can you be reprimanding her?’.” To which I said, “I am not reprimanding you, I am warning you because I don’t want you to lose Elvis. The police and the school are watching him, and if you don’t send him to school they will take him away from you, and I know how much you love him and I don’t want that.” Don Juan repeats this in quechua to her, because she really is more comfortable speaking in quechua, then he adds on about how he has to work harder because he sends his kids to school but they are smart and strong now, good citizens. “Elvis will come down when he comes down.” She says in quechua.

As I speak, I am continually including Elvis in the conversation, making sure he hears what I am saying, explaining why, and giving him power. She is continually making decisions for him, responding for him, forbidding him from thinking for himself at all. It is easier for her if he is stupid and obedient. Remember, biologically this boy is 15 years old, mentally I would place him at about 8. “It is against the law for Elvis to not go to school. He has a right to study. Not going to school is not an option. The police will take him away if he is not studying.”

In reality, I am lying. Peruvian law gives children the right to study, but there is no law saying he has to. I do know, there is a certain little white girl and she has a friend who happens to be the director of the primary school who have already reported Elvis’ parents’ drunkenness to the authorities. If his parents aren’t sending him to school these two people will make sure he is removed from their inadequate care giving, all education aside.

Elvis is a child that loves his parents, he just wants to be with mommy and daddy. He has no idea what horrible caregivers they are. He just loves mom and dad. I know his recent feelings for his aunt Luz are making things very confusing for him right now. I only want this boy to be happy and healthy. No one wants him to grow up to be the poor, depressed, drunken adult that both of his parents are. Before my family took him in people thought he was disabled because he was so slow. When I assured them that it was only malnourishment and years of no education, teachers started treating him like a kid that was just behind a little. He has shown improvement since he has been with us. Definitely happier, definitely healthier.  A child that plays with his dog, reads, does his homework and watches movies. Not a servant that is constantly running to fetch this or that.

I am going to do everything within my power to make sure that this boy is continuing his education. This 15-year-old graduating from primary school with basic math and reading skills would be a beautiful feat.