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Show Daily Utah Chronicle Monday, March 7, 2005 An orphan's gift Changes transform an orphanage, in part to one student's determination NOW HIRING The Chronicle is looking for news reporters. See Tyler in Union 240. slimy food leftovers she found in the trash. She smelled horrible, and the heat intensified Once again, the orphans the stench. My patience ran were yelling at Andrea, the out. I thought to myself, "God, most unpopular 4-year-old at the Loreto children's home in she is such a pain sometimes," Ecuador. Andrea was a difficult as I tried to rcfocus on putting child. She was always fighting on the socks of another child. with somebody. The nuns told But Andrea persisted—she me that she was hopeless, and stood there crying, seeking someone to defend her. "No, that she was downright bad. "She's so gross! Look at her! not this time, Andrea. I'm sick She stinks. Eecewww, get her of you getting into the trash. out of here," the orphans chas- You know you are not allowed in the trash! I'm telling the tised. The equatorial sun was nuns and you're going to be in scorching as usual, and as al- trouble," I said. ways, my tank top was wet She continued crying. I tried with sweat, my hair separated to ignore her. After a moment by wet clumps sticking to my I noticed that she was not covforehead. The shiny brown ered in something from the faces oi' the African-Ecuador- trash. She was covered in diarian children wore dotted with rhea. "It's her own fault," said their perpetual sweat beads. Sandrine, 5, "because she eats I briefly looked over at An- mangoes off of the ground and drea and saw her legs covered she knows she's not allowed in what appeared to be some to do that." Photos and story by Ryan Oliver Hansen Become a Laboratory Professional with a Marketable B.S. Degree in MEDICAL LABORATORY SCIENCE, DEPARTMENT OF PATHOLOGY (38-40K per year) Medical Technologists; • Assist in diagnosis, treatment and prevention of disease • Are vital members of the healthcare team For more information about this dynamic, exciting profession rail J. Michele Stuart, 585-5452, e-mail: michele.sruart@path.utah.edu or visit our website: vvww.path.utah.edu/mls Also, if you have a BS in Biology, Chemistry or Microbiology inquire about our 13 Month Post Degree Program. Call Larry Schoeff, 585-6989 or Ischocfffepath.utah.edu Applications accepted January 1 - April 1, 2005 UNITED STATES MARINE CORPS AVIATION f ,* vt^BBr ^B^^P(P I sat and looked at Andrea for a few moments, pondering our misery. Her cries were now soft, muffling shame and embarrassment. Andrea ate things off of the ground—all the time. She always got into the trash—her favorite treasure was chewed gum. I angrily dragged Andrea to the orphanage "shower," an outdoor water faucet where the cold, tan-colored river water came shooting out with great force. I placed Andrea in front of the showcrhcad and shouted at her to strip down and start washing herself. The smell of her infected feces over her—just her, all day— someone to care for her like my mom cared for me when I was 4, watching over me, and never leaving my side. I thought, "If she had parents, she wouldn't have worms from her clandestine, dirty mango eating and garbage Then, for a while, I picked her up, laid her head on my shoulder, and swayed back and forth, singing her songs from "The Little Mermaid" in Spanish. Her exhausted body started falling asleep. Her sniffles ended. But mine had just begun. In the course of 20 minutes, Andrea had broken my heart. Before I went to Esmeraldas, Ecuador, to volunteer in an orphanage, I thought I had known the pain of a broken heart. I'd been through break-ups. Ending a romantic relationship isn't easy for anybody—least of all for me, somebody who tends to get attached to the people I love. But orphans have a way of surpassing the emotional depth that comes from a romantic partnership—a way of looking you in the eye that comes from nobody else but a helpless child who has never made me gag. She would do searching. Then, she wouldn't been loved by anyone. the washing, not me. have diarrhea. There are too The Loreto orphanage, a many kids here for her to get child refugee center run by Lesson (earned the individual attention she Catholic nuns, was the place I I stood in disbelief at my needs. How could I be such called home for seven months situation, feeling sorry for my- a jerk, and blame Andrea for of 2004. Originally, my trip was meant to be a summerself. But as I watched tiny An- this?" drea struggling to wash herself Things changed that day be- only endeavor—a fun, feelclean, and squealing in fear of tween Andrea and me. I took good experience that would the shooting water, something her inside and found her some look smashing on my everinside of me snapped. "This is clean clothes, trying to speak improving resume. Little did not Andrea's fault," I thought. gently to make up for my im- I know what was in store for I realized this miniature patience and harsh reaction me at summer's end, however. person probably wouldn't to her potty fiasco. I decided I could not bring myself to wander around the orphanage what Andrea needed more leave. eating things off of the ground than another scolding was Perhaps I could have left if if she had someone watching love. I had had more confidence in the nuns. But those nuns and I—did we ever differ. When a child like Alicia, 2, came running at me with a big grin and fuzzy Afro-Ecuadorian ponytails, I had to pick her up. The way of that world •m- Club Sound ONCE YOU'VE BECOME AN ELITE FIGHTER 579 West 200 South YOU'LL WANT TO F L Y O N E . You can.blend in or you can stand out. You can fly for anyone or you can soar among the elite. It all comes down to one question. Do you have what it takes to be one of us? The few. The proud. The Marines. All Ages Show! MARIIUEOFFICEH.COIVI Tuesday, March 8th 9:00 pm Capt.Vanderbeek • 801.4B3.1146 • vanderheekmr@12mcd.usmc.mil But the nuns, after years and years of living at the orphanage, don't do that. In fact, they believe in doing the opposite. "You shouldn't pick them up so much. It teaches them to get attached. Then they won't be independent. You're going to leave. Then who will pick them up?" they would say. I often wondered if they were right. But my doubts didn't keep me from picking up my little friends, swinging them around, tickling them, kissing them or carrying them on my shoulders. Where I come from, that's what grown-ups are for. Besides, the orphans didn't seem too worried about becoming independent. 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