Rough Diamond

When you hold a diamond to the sun, thousands of tiny rays refract through the interior to create an image of untainted brilliance. Its perfection and beauty breathtaking to all who bear witness. But deep inside the core, hidden by the disingenuous radiance, is the true foundation of the diamond. The truth that lies in its humble beginnings as a piece of coal. And no matter how exceptional or striking the precious jewel looks in the light of day, beneath the surface beats a heart of coal. Always reminding the seer of the creation of what now is treasured, and the truth that no matter how amazing something looks from the outside, there is always another story.

One of these stories is our oldest child at the Hogar, at fifteen years old, who has been diagnosed with a plethora of conditions, the most prevalent of these being Fetal Alcohol Syndrome. When I arrived at the Hogar I wasn’t overly familiar with FAS. I had heard the term and knew how it occurred, but really had no idea of the associated behavioral problems. When it comes to this boy, one of the ways in which his FAS has manifested is through increasingly violent tendencies and what I can only describe as psychotic breaks- his episodes. Most of the time he is as tender as a kitten. With his big eyes full of wonder and amazement as he walks through life in a bubble untouched by the outside world. He is so open to love and always ready to hug you, or color with you, or simply to sit and enjoy your company. When you look at his giant smile, you could never believe he had so much frustration coursing through his body. You would never know that underneath the peaceful exterior, hides a confused young man, never in total control of himself and never knowing when he was going to lose the never-ending battle. And sometimes he does lose. And watching our sweet boy contort and fight against himself is one of the most terrifying experiences I have ever encountered. The first episode I witnessed has been seared into my memory for all time.

Daniel and I were standing outside of the Hogar in the front yard, watching the children. It was the day of Don David’s, (the director of Helping Honduras Kids) birthday. Just minutes earlier we had all been inside helping to serve the children cake and ice cream while singing in celebration for this special day. We had stepped outside as David and Ron, our volunteer coordinator, had told us they needed to speak with us. Ron began to explain that there was serious political unrest in Honduras and that he needed for us to collect the full names, passport numbers and emergency contact details of all of the volunteers (this just three day before the President was forcefully removed from power). We had heard nothing of the situation before this and it hadn’t begun to register, when something caught Dan’s eye. As if on cue, Joel, the wild child of the kinder, started screaming. Dan sprinted towards the sound. I ran towards Joel as he scampered into the Hogar, but halfway towards the door I glanced to the right, and saw what was happening. He was having an episode. Dan, Rosa (the oldest girl at the Hogar) and Selvin (the security guard) were restraining him on the ground as he yelled and tried to escape. I have never in my life seen a young man with the strength that he has. The two men struggling to hold him still as Rosa did her best to hold his head so that he didn’t injure himself. Then Rosa calmly turns to Dan in the middle of the hectic struggle. ‘He’s trying to bite my finger off.’ she stated with such a dignified air that I was sure I had misheard her, but as Selvin finally pulled her hand free I could see the swelling and ran for ice. When I came back, he had escaped from the grip of the two men and was stalking the halls of the Hogar.

The children darted out of the way of him as he furiously paced the halls, until he entered his bedroom and locked the door. Through the window we could see him throwing the furniture around and pacing violently. Terrified that he would injure himself, Selvin tried to force the door open, but to no avail. He looked around for a way in and realized that the wall did not extend entirely to the roof. Selvin began to climb. With more agility than I thought possible from a grown man, Selvin scaled the wall in seconds and lowered himself into the room. Seconds that lasted days ticked by as we waited. The click of the lock startled us all back into reality as Selvin softly opened the door. Behind him we could see the huddled shape of the boy lying on the floor. The men rushed forward and restrained him with a belt from his own pants. They tied his arms behind his back and restrained his legs. Struggling against the force of the belt, he snapped his legs free, and fought against the men. Legs flailing wildly, while wrenching at the restraints on his hands. Screaming to be free, Dan pushed a pillow beneath his head as he tried to break his skull on the hard floor. For ten minutes the struggle continued as he screamed and cursed, close to breaking the hold of the belt. And suddenly, as quickly as it had begun, it was over. The anger and frustration dissipated and he was back. Our sweet boy.

Its funny the things that stick in your mind after a situation like this. But when I look back at that day, what comes to the forefront of my mind isn’t him, but Rosa. The calmness and poise she maintained for her fourteen years, as she aided in the restraint of her comrade. It made me so sad. It made me realize that this wasn’t the first encounter she has had with his episodes. And that forced me to fight against tears. Tears for the children that had already seen too much violence in their short lives. For the boy, having to fight the demons that raged beneath the angelic surface, and for the world. The injustice that haunts every waking second of life, and that since I have been at the Hogar, I have witnessed in the strained smiles of the children everyday. There have been episodes since the first time, and there will be more in the future. The directors are searching for somewhere for him to live. Somewhere where he can be taken care of in an environment where he can be cared for safely, and where the lives of others can be protected. But with the mental health sector in Honduras being all but non-existent, this in itself is a struggle.

We need to find somewhere our treasured diamond can be seen for its truth. The humble beginnings to the radiance of his smile.