Letter from Mirna Sánchez,
Director of the Inhijambia Program in Nicaragua

 

July 2006

From: Mirna Sánchez

To: PeaceWorks 2006 Nicaragua delegation members

[Translated by: Marilyn Devroye]

 

Compañeros, tengo que contarles algo que todavía me tiene impresionada: como ya les he comentado estamos llevando a cabo el proyecto preventivo del VIH/SIDA, primero nos capacitaron al equipo de la A.I y a los organismos similares al nuestro, luego comenzamos a cumplir el objetivo del proyecto que es capacitar a los inhalantes; cada capacitación es de cuatro viernes donde participan 20 muchachos/as, al que no falta ningún viernes se le da un diploma, antes de comenzar con la primera fase (focos) capacitamos a 20 muchachas de la fase II y III donde participaron las  promotoras, con el propósito de que luego ayuden a capacitar a los de la fase I, la capacitación fue un éxito, recibimos felicitaciones de parte de la representante de SII y de los capacitadotes pues las muchachas mostraron mucha capacidad para asimilar y participaron demostrando que ya conocían mucho del tema, el viernes 2 de junio iniciamos con 20 muchachos/as de la primera fase y para motivarlos fuimos a Xiloa (laguna ubicada en las afueras de Managua).

 

Friends, I want to tell you something that's still on my mind. As you know, we've initiated a pilot HIV/AIDS prevention project. First we trained the staff at Inhijambia and at some other related organizations. Then we began the real project, which is to offer HIV-prevention training to the glue-sniffing youngsters who live in the streets. Each training course consists of four all-day sessions, held on four Fridays, with space for 20 young people in each course. We award a diploma for perfect attendance. Before we got started with the kids in the streets, we ran the course for 20 Phase II and Phase III girls from Inhijambia, so that they in turn could help us offer the course to the Phase I (glue-sniffing) kids. The course at Inhijambia was a big success: our girls showed that they already knew a lot about HIV and were capable of learning more. SII (the European donor financing the project) was impressed, and congratulated us. On Friday, June 2, we began our first course for the Phase I kids. To get them interested, we took them on a field trip to Xiloa, a lake near Managua.   

 

Todo estaba muy bien, teníamos bien planificada cada actividad con el propósito de que fuera un día con todas las actividades iniciamos con dinámicas de presentación, desayuno, capacitación, luego refrigerio, luego poner en el pelo un liquido que mata a los piojos, juego de fútbol mientras el veneno hace efecto y luego a nadar y dejar los piojos muertos en el agua, después almuerzo, conversar, concurso de baile, etc. Todo era perfecto, pero después que almorzamos una muchachita que se está iniciando en la calle comenzó a vomitar y llorar, luego se desmayó y no lográbamos que volviera en si, decidí llevarla al hospital de Ciudad Sandino, porque nos quedaba más cerca, cuando uno de los educadores la levanto para ponerla en la camioneta nos dimos cuenta que estaba sangrando, entonces uno de los lideres del foco me llamo aparte y me dijo: "mamita anoche le cayeron unos majes… " quiere decir que la habían violado varios. La muchachita dice que tiene 16 años (a mí me parece que tiene menos edad) antes de llegar al foco vendía agua, lo más triste es que en el hospital no la querían tocar y la dejaron sola yo estaba con una cooperante española y 3 promotoras, entonces  fui con la española a reclamar y sabes que llego una doctora muy enojada y le apretó de una manera horrible los pezones, la niña ni siquiera se movió, parecía muerta, entonces mi amiga y yo protestamos fuerte, y la doctora ni siquiera nos miro, entonces nos fuimos al hospital Lenín Fonseca, aquí le canalizaron para  ponerle suero, y nos dijeron que la lleváramos al hospital Bertha Calderón, ella seguía inconsciente (mi hermana dice que canalizarla fue incorrecto porque cuando llevan suero en el brazo tiene que trasladarse en ambulancia) llegamos y aquí supuestamente la examinaron, nosotros no vimos porque no nos dejaron entrar, estuvimos más de 5 horas esperando o sea que eran las 8pm. y no sabíamos nada, llame a mi hija para saber si había encontrado en que irse para San Marcos, y todavía estaba en la parada, se fue para el hospital, le presente a las muchachas y le comente lo que había pasado y ella tuvo la brillante idea de ponerse la gabacha y presentarse como la doctora de la asociación y la dejaron entrar.

 

We had planned a day of nonstop activities. First there were skits to initiate the HIV-prevention theme, followed by breakfast, then a learning session, then a snack. Then they all got treated for lice (a liquid poured in their hair), and played soccer while the lice treatment took effect; then they all went swimming in the lake to wash out the dead lice. After that, lunch, conversation, a dance contest, etc. Everything went perfectly.

 

Shortly after lunch, though, one of the girls, who only recently started living in the streets, began vomiting and crying; then she passed out and we weren't able to wake her up. We decided to take her to the nearest hospital, in Ciudad Sandino. As one of the educators was lifting her into the truck, we realized for the first time that she was hemorrhaging. Then one of the leaders of the street kids pulled me aside and said privately, “Ma'am, last night a pack of studs fell on top of her,” by which he meant that she had been gang-raped. The girl says she's 16, but I think she looks younger; before she started living in the streets, she plied the traffic in Managua selling water in plastic bags.

 

The saddest thing of all was that once we got her to the hospital, no one wanted to touch her; they just left her lying there. I was there with a Spanish volunteer and three of our promotoras, so the Spanish woman and I went to complain and ask that someone help her. A woman doctor then showed up, acting very annoyed, and believe it or not she pinched the poor girl's nipples as hard as she could. The girl never moved; she lay there as still as death. The Spanish woman and I cried out in protest, but the doctor wouldn't even look at us.

 

We got the girl out of there and took her to Lenin Fonseca Hospital, where all they did was stick an IV in her arm and advise us to take her to Bertha Calderon Hospital. All this time the girl remained unconscious. (My sister, who is a doctor, later told me that since they had placed an IV, it should have been up to them to arrange for ambulance transport to the next hospital.) We took her ourselves to Bertha Calderon Hospital, and there, supposedly, they examined her; we couldn't tell because they wouldn't let us go in with her. We waited five hours; at 8 p.m. we still had no news.

 

Finally I called my daughter Tatiana (who is a fourth-year medical student) on her cell phone to find out if she was already on her way home. It turned out she was still waiting at the bus stop. She left and came to join us at the hospital. I introduced her to our girls, and told her what was happening. Then Tatiana had a brilliant idea: she put on her white jacket and told the hospital personnel she was the Inhijambia doctor. They let her in right away.   

 

Esperamos un poco más, luego salio mi hija y me dijo que entrara como representante legal, yo estaba orgullosa de la seguridad y sensibilidad de Tatiana pero tan triste de ver la actitud de los trabajadores de la salud, mi hija dice que no cree que la hallan examinado, cuando ella llego la niña ya estaba despierta, estuvo inconsciente una hora y 45 minutos y el médico dice que el desmayo fue por la experiencia emocional que vivió.

 

A little while later, Tatiana came out and asked me to accompany her as the legal representative. I was proud of her sensitivity and self-assurance, but so sad to see the attitude of the other health care workers. My daughter says she doesn't think they even examined the girl, who in the meantime had come to. She had been out cold for an hour and 45 minutes. The doctor there said she must have fainted from the shock of the gang rape.

 

(También dice mi hermana que la doctora que le apretó los pezones seguramente pensó que era un cuadro de histeria, me siento tan impotente porque ese es un abuso, imagínense después de ser abusada, maltratarla de esa manera, tenía ganas de golpear o hacer que esa doctora no vuelva a trabajar nunca.)

 

(My sister says that doctor who pinched the girl's nipples was surely just trying to see if it was an episode of hysteria. But in my opinion that was an abuse. Imagine, inflicting pain on a young thing who has just been gang-raped. I felt a helpless rage. I wanted to hit that doctor, or fix things so that she could never practice medicine again.)

 

Azucena que es el nombre de la muchacha, estaba en la recepción sentada y cuando me miro se puso a llorar, yo la abracé y me senté con ella a esperar que Tatiana terminara de hablar con el doctor; cuando le pregunte que adonde quería que la llevara me dijo que al Parque Luis Alfonso Velásquez (Cerca de la casa presidencial) sentí tanta tristeza y decidí llevarla a mi oficina, Tatiana le hizo comida y leche, le dio de comer en la boca pero comió muy poco; la dejamos durmiendo y fuimos en la camioneta a dejar a sus casas a las promotoras, al educador que se llama Roberto (contratado para el trabajo del VIH/SIDA) y a Elena que es la española pues ya eran más de las 10pm. Sinceramente tenía miedo de que los pandilleros nos hicieran daño, cuando venimos a la casa eran más de las 11pm.

 

Azucena, for that is the girl's name, was already sitting up in the waiting area, and when she saw me she began to cry. I hugged her and sat with her while Tatiana finished talking with the doctor. When I asked Azucena where she would like us to take her, she said to Luis Alfonso Velasquez Park (near the presidential palace), because that's where she had been living. When I heard that, I felt so bad for her that I decided to take her back to my office at Inhijambia. Once we arrived, Tatiana prepared a meal and a glass of milk for her, and actually spoon-fed her, but she ate very little. We left her there sleeping in my office, and went off to take the promotoras back to their houses; we also had to drop off Roberto (new educator hired especially for the HIV-prevention project) and Elena, the Spanish volunteer. By this time it was past 10 p.m. I was worried that Tatiana and I would fall prey to the gangs that roam Managua at night. It was past 11 o'clock when we finally got home.

 

Estamos intentando que Azucena llegue todos los días y que acepte vivir en uno de los hogares grupales.

 

We're trying to get Azucena to come to Inhijambia every day, and to agree to live in one of our group homes.

 

[Marilyn's comment: I assumed Azucena would become another recruit for the Inhijambia program. But apparently not. In a later e-mail, Mirna wrote, in response to my query…]

 

Mi Marilyn, ayer fui nuevamente a Xiloa y todo paso bien, Azucena estaba nuevamente en el grupo, gracias a Dios no hubo ningún problema, pero ella se refugio en la droga con más fuerza y no quiere ingresar al proyecto.

 

Marilyn, yesterday I went to Xiloa again and everything went well. Azucena was part of the group again. Thank God, this time she had no problems. But she has taken refuge in glue-sniffing, worse than before, and she doesn't want to join Inhijambia.

 

[There you have it, a couple of days in the life. Not every youngster takes the bait, but to date Inhijambia has rescued from the streets and rehabilitated some 75 young women, with another 25 in the pipeline. Christ Church and PeaceWorks support the program. ]