Day two

   My day ended earlier than those appearing in court tomorrow; I was back in my room by 10, after leaving it at 6:30 am!  These are going to be short posts, I predict, as the work is tiring and the days are long.  But there is so much to report.
   A little about the detention center, upon first impression.  It is a small town, hastily modified to house 600 women and children.  From the road, it looks like rows of metal, windowless buildings set upon a gravel bed.  We have not been allowed to see anything but our own metal building where we sit at tables about 1/2 the size of a card table, an arm's length away from similar table on all sides, asking these strong but tired women about the most difficult parts of their lives, in front of their children, many of whom are able to understand the conversation, all of whom hurt to see their mother cry again.
   The officers ("We are not guards; we are officers....") have been pleasant, in my limited exposure to them.  The ones who interact with us and keep the women traveling between our "hut" and their "home hut" (none of us can go anywhere unescorted) all speak Spanish.  The ones who are in our hut with us all day make a real effort to keep the children occupied with movies (Happy Feet for 8 hours yesterday, I don't even know what today, but constant), and pages torn from coloring books with one or two crayons at a time.  Some of the officers actually enjoy the children, chat with them, try to teach them English and the children crave that attention.
   However, we hear stories of disrespectful treatment, too.  More on that another time.
   Today's heartbreak was a little boy, 3 1/2 who slept like a baby in his mother's arms for her two hour appointment.  She reported that, since arriving two months ago, he sleeps 9-10 hours per night and five more hours per day. He never runs or plays and has lost considerable weight.  She has sought medical attention but has been told there is nothing wrong with him.  The attorney working with her has a 4-year-old, and says she fears this little boy may be dying.  Tomorrow, our team leaders will raise the issue, with hopes of getting an off-site medical evaluation.
   The woman who carved a place into my heart today was my younger sister, Kari's age.  She is about 25 years older than most of the women here, and has her teenage twin sons with her.  Her calm and wise demeanor was so impressive.  She survived a kidnapping by a gang, an attempt to earn a ransom, and upon her escape was told by the police to flee for her own safety.  She and her sons made the entire trip on their own.  She will very likely get asylum when her case comes up, but in the meantime, she is mothering the youngest two of her five children here, while her husband awaits their release. 
   I also enjoyed working today with a law student who, at the age of 1, came to the U.S. with his young mother, from El Salvador.  His story produced the glow of hope on the faces of the women and children we interviewed together. 
   Hope.