I´ve told you about Marlon before. I cant have favourites, but if I could Marlon would be one the boys I'm closest with. His story is probably one of the most troubelling, and he is completely alone in this world; but his special nature continually shines. He is the type of person that everyone loves and noone can hate. He is friends with everyone, and in a year of working at La Granja I have never seen him fight or argue with another child.

A month ago Marlon had cool hair. Really cool hair. Maybe a mix of modern and 80's style; I dont really know, maybe thats looking into it too much, but it was cool anyway. Had to clean out lice at one point, but I think he got the lice from me, and the painstaking lice removal procedure definitely outweighed cutting such cool hair.

So one day La Granja decided it was time to cut boys hair. I agreed. It had been some time since hair had been cut, and their long locks were becoming more a dishevelled mess.

I escorted my boys to a classroom to have their hair cut, many crying for what they were about to lose. Some boys fought, but we threatened that if they did not allow us to cut their hair we would force them to shave it, a threat that indeed needed to be carried out on a few of the boys. I supported the process, telling the boys that there was an institutional standard that needed to be met, and that many times in their future they may need to adhere to dress code.

Marlon came quietly though, put up no fight, and agreed to sit in the chair. Unfortunately I was not there as he did, but he asked the worker cutting his hair to use a size 7 clipper. The worker agreed, but as he came above Marlons head he removed the clipper, shaving off Marlons hair.

I dont know if that story impacts you as much as it did me, but holding Marlon crying all night and all the next day, him looking at me with his huge eyes and their look of helplessness, I was infuriated. In my opinion his rights were disregarded, and his trust completely abused. He has noone in the world to defend him, to stand by him as his hair is cut, to advocate for him afterwards. Of course I made quite a scene the next day; but if I wasnt here then no words would have been spoken in his defense.


Such is the life of an institutionalised child.

This is my life working for an ineffective and often abusive system.

My dream is to open my own home.

The next week I found that some boys were making some way cool wrist bands. They were given some coloured thread by the head nun and were making multiple bands which the nun was selling on their behalf. The idea excited me. Apparently the nun can sell the bands for about $2.50-$3.50, but I was sure I could sell them for more back home or in the States. It takes the boys about a full weekend day to complete one band, hunched over, fingers endlessly dancing around thread. It would be a fun fundraising idea, and I´d be able to bring back the profits for the boys.

So we went to town and bought a heap of thread. It only cost about $7, and with that we could probably make about 10 bands. The profit margin is pretty obvious, so the boys excitedly started at work.

A couple of days later one of the boys who was working with the head nun on the same project asked if he could join my project instead. I asked him why, and he told me that he doesnt like working with the nun, because their deal is that she gives him the thread for free, but she keeps half of the profit on sale.

Again, I dont know how that impacts you, but I was infuriated. A nun exploiting a boy. If she wanted to help him she would lend him the money for this first bit of thread, and once he had made his first profit he could pay her back, and have enough left over to self sufficiently buy further thread. But thats exploitation for you. Never allow them to get on their own feet, and continue racking in their profit.


Of course I told him to dump the nun straight away, and promised him 100% of the profits after sale. I am hoping the next time I see you you might be able to buy a couple of bands off us, or if you know anyone that would be willing to sell them, say your workplace, I´d be most appreciative.

















But so there´s my story about working in a corrupt institution. I am so happy to be here. I am so glad to be alongside these boys advocating for them. But I am regularly frustrated.

Like I said, a dream would be to open my own house, but the responsibility of that always scares me away.