Desde hace unos años he trabajado como intérprete de niños que sufren del Síndrome de Prader-Willi. (http://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/S%C3%ADndrome_de_Prader-Willi). Dos de las características del síndrome que más me han impactado son la constante necesidad de atención seguida por períodos en los que se aislan totalmente del mundo y los cambios de humor.
Lo siguiente lo escribí después de haber estado 10 horas seguidas con uno de los niños.
Necesitado de abrazos y de besos
te acercas sonriente
con la mirada perdida
la boca abierta
y esa mueca peremne de ansiedad.
Cuántas veces te habrán negado un beso
Cuántas veces la burla te ha seguido por el pasillo
pero tu sigues sonriente
preguntando sin parar
¿Y tú vienes mañana?
¿Y mi mamá viene mañana?
Una y otra vez
Una y otra vez.
De pronto explotas en una rabieta
te llamaron mentiroso
ya no te duele la indiferencia
te duele la duda.
Te devuelves a tu mundo solitario
donde todo está medido
donde todo está programado
hasta los abrazos y los besos.
Me miras y me pides que te abrace,
y yo no me resisto.
Monday, August 27, 2012
Friday, July 6, 2012
Culture Shock
I am always amazed by the general ignorance about other cultures.
The following cases reflect not only the ignorance but also the lack of patience or indifference shown to the persons involved.
They were in their 20's. She had just delivered her first baby a couple of days before. A friend drove them home with a borrowed car seat. The husband went to Walmart and bought the prettiest one he could find but, as it usually happens and although the mounting instructions had been translated into Spanish, they were useless. The couple was inside the car trying to figure out how to install the car seat and, of course, disagreement immediately arouse. They were yelling at each other in typical "Latino"style: "It goes here", "idiot, on the other side", "I told you to grab the thing", "not like that"...etc... An American neighbor heard them and called the police claiming verbal abuse. She also said "she feared for the baby's safety and well-being". The police showed up followed by Children Protective Services. They took the baby to a foster home for 6 months, the parents had to take anger management classes and prove to the Court that they were fit parents.
2. My child or yours?
Her labor started at 9 am, when her husband was at work. Her sister was also working, so her brother in law drove her to the hospital. He stayed with her until the baby was born. The nurse came with paperwork and when they indicated they didn't speak English she just said "never mind", and left. They asked who he was and he told them his name. When she received the baby's birth certificate, her brother in law had been listed as the father of the baby. Like in a soap opera, the husband thought they were having an affair, the sister thought her husband was a cheater, she hated her sister, and no one stopped to think that it was a mistake. I didn't know how difficult it is to reverse something like this. They had to go to court at least four times, had DNA tests done, affidavits, lawyers fees...
3. Whose name is it?
How difficult is it to understand that we use our father's last name first and then our mother's last name? Rodrigo Gonzalo Perez Salas becomes Rodrigo Salas or Gonzalo Perez. Do they think the other two are titles or something? One of my clients sat in jail for 6 months waiting for the DA to clarify his records. They look up the wrong name and got a police record as thick as the yellow pages. Wrong name, wrong man.
Monday, May 14, 2012
I used to work full time in a former life...and then I had kids....
I chose to be at home with my children. I won't deny that at times I thought I would kill myself, but I don't regret my decision. I am sure a lot of people can relate to that. Fast forward 21 years, my younger child just left for college last Fall and it was just me, and a lot of empty space. It has been hard to learn to cook for two, to speak in a quiet voice, to resist the urge to call and text and email. I thought I would feel free and would work more. But free from what? from the love of your kids? from all the happy moments I shared with them? from the sports and the dances?
So I wrote:
Empty Rooms
The silence sticks to the air
I am in front of this white wall
Nothing moves and I don't have to run anymore
The dancing shoes are in the closet
But there is no more music to dance to
The silence sticks to the air
No more forgotten lunches or homework
The soccer shoes lay by the door
Nothing moves and I don't have to run anymore
I am no longer the provider
Of food, hopes and transportation
The silence sticks to the air
Forgotten are the Daisies and the Brownies
The basketball games and PTA meetings too
Nothing moves and I don't have to run anymore
I am free in front of this white wall
Ready to paint what's next
The silence sticks to the air
Nothing moves...and I don't have to run anymore
I chose to be at home with my children. I won't deny that at times I thought I would kill myself, but I don't regret my decision. I am sure a lot of people can relate to that. Fast forward 21 years, my younger child just left for college last Fall and it was just me, and a lot of empty space. It has been hard to learn to cook for two, to speak in a quiet voice, to resist the urge to call and text and email. I thought I would feel free and would work more. But free from what? from the love of your kids? from all the happy moments I shared with them? from the sports and the dances?
So I wrote:
Empty Rooms
The silence sticks to the air
I am in front of this white wall
Nothing moves and I don't have to run anymore
The dancing shoes are in the closet
But there is no more music to dance to
The silence sticks to the air
No more forgotten lunches or homework
The soccer shoes lay by the door
Nothing moves and I don't have to run anymore
I am no longer the provider
Of food, hopes and transportation
The silence sticks to the air
Forgotten are the Daisies and the Brownies
The basketball games and PTA meetings too
Nothing moves and I don't have to run anymore
I am free in front of this white wall
Ready to paint what's next
The silence sticks to the air
Nothing moves...and I don't have to run anymore
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
Chewing gum at the bench
We are supposed to respect the judges and what they represent, but sometimes is very hard to respect a judge that tells jokes, makes fun of people, wears bracelets, and has tattoos all over the place.
Chewing gum at the bench
while I hear your stories
I decide your fate
while I chew away
If you are here for drugs
don't blame others
blame yourself
lying won't buy you time
or make me pity you
Chewing gum at the bench
I dispense justice
swift, real
Some of you will come back
Some of you will go to jail
while I chew away...
Chewing gum at the bench
while I hear your stories
I decide your fate
while I chew away
If you are here for drugs
don't blame others
blame yourself
lying won't buy you time
or make me pity you
Chewing gum at the bench
I dispense justice
swift, real
Some of you will come back
Some of you will go to jail
while I chew away...
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