ADRA

"Los Niños de la Calle"
Sunday, April 10, 2005

Enrique is a typical 11-year-old Bolivian boy. He loves soccer, enjoys swimming in rivers, and has many friends. But if you spent a moment watching him--laughing at jokes, racing to be first in line for lunch, or wrestling playfully in the grass--you'd find the misery that this young child has faced hard to believe.

Enrique is a typical 11-year-old Bolivian boy. He loves soccer, enjoys swimming in rivers, and has many friends. But if you spent a moment watching him—laughing at jokes, racing to be first in line for lunch, or wrestling playfully in the grass—you’d find the misery that this young child has faced hard to believe.

Just one year ago, Enrique was a street child in Santa Cruz, a city of almost 1.2 million people. He stole to buy food, and turned to alcohol, cigarettes, and sniffing glue to ease his loneliness. Today, Enrique lives at CERENID, an ADRA-supported drug rehabilitation home for “los niños de la calle”—the children of the streets. His is a story of tragedy and hope.

Enrique was raised by his grandparents who he believed were his parents. One day, his grandmother told him that his mother had abandoned him, and she pointed her out on the street. But his mother acted like he didn’t exist. “Once my mother’s sister felt sorry for me and gave me a lollipop because I was so sad,” Enrique said. That act of kindness remains a precious memory.

His grandmother was physically abusive, and he lived in constant fear of beatings which were often and severe. (Enrique says that his grandmother beat his brother to death.) When he was seven, his grandmother got him a job watching ducks. But Enrique didn’t know how to count, and the ducks disappeared, one-by-one.

After many beatings, Enrique ran away from home. That’s when he became a street child, sleeping in city parks, store doorways, and alleys. He joined other street kids as they sniffed gasoline, rubber cement, glue, and spray paint to numb their pain. Drug addiction among abandoned children in Bolivia is a major problem.

“I slept on the streets, but I was always hungry and needed to feed my addictions,” Enrique says. “I found work in a factory and a lady took me to an orphanage; but I ran away to live on the streets again. The police caught me and took me to a placed named CERENID. I was so thin and sickly that the other children called me bones.” (Most of the boys come to CERENID severely malnourished.)

CERENID addresses two growing problems in Bolivia: drug addiction and homelessness among children. Each day begins at 6 a.m. when the boys bathe and clean their rooms. Breakfast is at 6:30 a.m. followed by chores. Then they attend an ADRA-built school. But to children accustomed to the undisciplined life of wandering the streets, this regime can appear severe.

Enrique’s adjustment was difficult at first. “I did not like CERENID. I behaved badly so they would kick me out, but they didn’t.” As he felt love, and acceptance, Enrique’s life changed. CERENID’s staff includes a psychologist who supervises each child’s rehabilitation, emphasizing their educational, psychological, physical, and moral well-being.

While CERENID is saving and changing lives, expansion is needed. Plans include the construction of new dormitories, an activity room, and micro-businesses such as agriculture. Enrique knows little about ADRA’s network in more than 150 countries. He doesn’t understand much about your donations. But he does recognize what ADRA has done for him ... he doesn’t have to worry about his next meal or a place to sleep.

He now has his eyes firmly fixed on his future. “When I grow up,” states this once sickly ‘El niño de la calle,’ “I will be a doctor and help sick people.” Enrique is just one of ADRA’s children who will make a difference in Bolivia and around the world.