They saw us out walking and decided to follow. It was early on a Sunday and perhaps they had nothing to do. A gringo family might have seemed an easy target, or at least a hope of something free. They fell into stride behind and then next to us, began asking if the church could get them some school supplies. Who was that face? Where had I seen him before?
They listened through Sunday school as the Mensajeres and Embassadores heard a presentation from a Honduran couple going to India as missionaries. The couple taught them to sing ” This is the Day” in Bengali and the words were strange to Spanish tongues. When the offering plate went round for the missionary couple, one boy managed to sneak out a handful and hoped no one noticed. He buried it in the pocket of the baggy shorts he wore-too cold for this wet foggy day.
I sat behind him in the last row as we gathered children for Culto Infantil (children’s church). The smell of unwashed boys was close even though we were out in the open air. How could a mother let her boys wander alone? Were they supposed to contribute to the family income in any manner? Did she mind that they stold from a church for their gain? They moved closer to the front row and our oldest heard them plotting how they could take her bag when everyone bowed for prayer. Then they asked to go the bathroom and wandered off trying to find other victims.
How can you change a heart that looks only to its own gain at the expense of others? Can I make them see that what they really need is not just a few Lempira for lunch, but spiritual food that could change their whole world.
I asked someone later about them. Oh yes, them, he said. Their mother sells tortillas on the street and no one knows who their father is. They make holes in the road and fill them up hoping for a handout. It’s best not to give them anything. It only encourages their behavior. They need to learn to work.
But who will teach them?