Jan and I arrived in Mexico on 12 September, our bags heavily laden with Spanish-language children’s books, kindly donated by Anna Ridley at Thames & Hudson, and Owen Llewellyn and Alison Tweed at Book Aid International. On 17 September, I joined our son Chris on his commute from our apartment in Bucerías to Pasitos de Luz, a dazzling white building set among maize, cucumber and watermelon fields, several flooded after a tropical storm a day earlier. Chris tells me that many of the fields are rented out to those who do the hard work of cultivation. He knows one man who lives six months of the year in Bakersfield, California, and six months working his field in Mexico. Jan stayed away this year because she had been ill with Covid and we did not want to risk passing it on to vulnerable children.
As we bumped along the rutted dirt road that leads to Pasitos, we were behind the minibus driven by Don Carlos, driver and handyman, and like me a young 71 years, taking parents and children who are not yet enrolled as regulars at Pasitos to a thrice-weekly hydrotherapy session in the specially-designed therapy pool. We also passed Don Chaba, the gardener, as he gamely pedalled his bike to work from Jarretaderas, just about visible over the fields towards the coast.
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| Arturo Ayala (left), Director of Pasitos, Chris, and Don Chaba |
When we arrived, wheelchairs were waiting for the children under the white canopy that protects them from the elements as they are helped off the daily bus service. The children then wait, more or less patiently, for their breakfast. As you will notice, the children are all neatly and cleanly dressed, the girls usually with fetching bows in their hair, by loving parents whose limited resources are far outweighed by their love of their children. The young man bottom left with the soulful look is Cristian, whose left arm was amputated. He has a winning toothy smile, but very little conversation other than agua (water). The boy across the table from him is Alexis, born with no eyes and deaf. The young man at the head of the table wondered aloud whether I am Chris’ grandfather. At the next table, one little boy challenged me to an arm wrestle: he won twice.
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| Wheelchairs at the ready |
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| Getting off the bus |
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| Cristian, bottom left, Alexis, bottom right, waiting for breakfast |
I was introduced to two young nutrition specialists who are spending a year at Pasitos as their post-graduation social service: all professional graduates in Mexico are required to do a year of social service. I had already notice that details of the types of food each child can accept are posted on the dining room door: papillas (purees), alimentos mahacados (mashed foods), alimentos enteros (whole foods), niños que comen fibra(children who eat fibre). My breakfast customer was Isaak, an 18-month-old downs syndrome boy, who breakfasted on pureed apple and banana. Like other downs children he has great flexibility and regularly brought his left foot up to his mouth. At lunch my diner was Emiliano, a severely disabled lad, who walks around in a wheeled support. He eats his food chopped but cannot feed himself.
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| Isaak's breakfast |
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| The food needs of each child |
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| Therapists undertaking professional training or post-degree social service |
My child care duties were, as usual in niñeras (nursery). I worked with Lupita, 11 years old, building blocks and identifying colours. She can also recognize numbers and count at least to 11. Our block-building was interrupted by the destructive efforts of a little boy called Sabino and by Emiliano careering around in his wheeled vehicle. During breakfast, Leo had smiled broadly at me. He and I now played with a toy vehicle that has flashing lights and makes whirring noises, and with some bouncy balls. Later the children were changed into their swimsuits for their hydrotherapy session, which they enjoy three times a week. Pasitos has the only such pool for several hundred kilometres. The pool is especially valuable for autistic children en crisis, I was told. I met one little autistic boy with his mother (one of those not yet enrolled in Pasitos) enjoying the company (the boy that is, not the mother) of the goats and pigs at the end of the garden.
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| Going for a walk with Leo |
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| The therapy pool |
Pasitos’ need for resources is continuous and its waiting list of children far too long. Immediate necessities and capital projects are posted in the spacious lobby. The zancudos (mosquitos) have been particularly voracious this rainy season, so one item on the capital projects list is mosquito nets (50,000 pesos: £2,500 or US3,500). Cash is always very useful, but donations also come in kind, including books delivered in groaning suitcases.
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| Needs |
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| More needs |
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