Street Kid Encounter (1996)

When I arrived in Honduras I had been looking for places to volunteer and had ended up in La Ceiba without much luck, organizations seemed few and far between at the time; larger organizations weren't interested in hiring volunteer backpackers and the smaller organizations were rare. I passed the days walking around trying to get to know the town and sitting in desolate seaside bars in the afternoon looking at a sea you could not swim in. I was too broke to pay to ferry over to one of the Bay Islands like Roatan or Utila, so I remained in La Ceiba. One afternoon, I was suddenly swarmed by a large group of dirty and high street kids between the ages of approximately 8 and 13 (although you could never assume ages though, as many children in Central America look much younger than they actually are). They stood around the table looking expectant and I thought, what the heck, and ordered them 4 very large plates of food; french fries, platanos, beans and rice. The food, however, disappeared from the air before the annoyed waiter even had a chance to set the plates on the table. Picked clean by grubby in just a few seconds. The plates lay empty on the table.

The kids again stood around the table staring at me. They were high on shoe glue, but even at that, their distinct personalities became apparent and some swiftly became emboldened describing what they 'needed' from me: a walkman, beer,  a tent, and of course, money (no coins only cash bills 'billetes'). The salesman of the group I would later find out was Giovanni. Beside him was a smallish child called 'Ocho' - why he was called eight, I to this day do not know. There was also an older boy of the group around age 14 named Mando. He carried shoeshine box strapped over his shoulder. There was also Darwin, who struck me as a trouble-maker, and Flaco (he was skinny and tall), and the beloved Chino. One child hung back a bit from the crowd looking self-conscious and shy, almost embarrassed, like a kid who knew better, one who had a good mother somewhere who raised him right and with some real manners. This unassuming and quiet person was Alberto Sadai Espinoza.

He was part of this sub-group of 6-8 kids who formed part of a larger group of about 20 kids, some of them quite a bit older who seemed to run things. The younger kids formed a tight-knit group and seemed to band together most days. At night they sought out the protection of the older kids often sleeping nearby them at various spots, mainly the steps of the local Catholic Church. Most of them came from other poorer parts of Honduras like El Progreso, Olanchito, La Esperanza - although La Ceiba was fairly poor itself. I think La Ceiba was a bit easier to handle than some of the other bigger cities like San Pedro Sula or Tegucigalpa. There was enough people and action to be helpful for a typical street kid, but not so big that it was unduly dangerous (although at times it still was).

They all carried little baggies of shoe glue that they sniffed  constantly to get high, including Alberto. 

The kids followed me around town the rest of the night and next few days. Everywhere I went of surrounded by an ocean of kids about 2 ft shorter than myself. Ironically, it made walking around the city safer as no one could get through this barrier of kids. Being Hondurans, they of course, walked around with a lot of swagger, proud to show off this gringa that they had found. They carried sticks and yelled at locals and tourists, but aside from that, they were so smart, funny and full of personality. They reminded me mini men full of machismo and bravado.

I decided to stay in La Ceiba for a few months and find out their stories, and also to understand if there was anything I could do to help them.