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For Colombians, A Growing Peril From Land Mines
Alex Florez, 11, left, joins other young victims of land mines to watch television at the Jesus of Nazareth rehabilitation center in Bucaramanga, Colombia. Alex lost an eye and has undergone skin grafts to reconstruct his face.
(By Juan Forero -- The Washington Post)
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Half shelter, half rehab center, the Jesus of Nazareth Home -- as the center is called -- is a whirl of activity. A gaggle of children scrambles along hallways, women cook hearty lunches in a spacious kitchen and staff members dart from room to room for 12 hours or more a day.
Nurses clean wounds, which often take weeks to heal and are constantly in danger of being infected. A psychologist counsels newly arrived victims. A physical therapist, Marcela Miranda, helps prepare stumps for prosthetics, which are made at a small machine shop nearby. She then teaches her charges how to use them, the idea being to send them back to their farms and livelihoods.
The work is not easy. Nor is it free from heartbreak, especially when it comes to the disfigured children.
One boy, Alex Florez, 11, has lost an eye and had his face mangled. He mopes around the shelter, looking mortified and self-conscious about what happened to him. A girl, Monica Ardila, 10, who lost an arm and her eyesight, still admits crying from time to time, even though she says she feels happy again. Moises Vega, 9, explained how self-conscious he had been because of his injuries.
"I felt incomplete," he said, "because I had one hand, and everyone else had two."
Farmers who never had reason to venture into the city wound up here, far from their fields. They had limbs amputated. They were handed hospital bills. They suffered through the anguish of knowing they weren't whole anymore.
"I had to practically give away my farm to pay for the hospital bills," said Ofelia Pinto, an older woman who wears dark glasses to hide her scarred face. Her hands, too, were mangled by a land mine. "I wanted to throw myself into the river."
It is a sentiment that therapists here frequently encounter -- and work hard to control.
Oscar Izquierdo, 36, is among those desperately trying to find direction once more. He lost his leg in war-torn Arauca province. Now, he is worried how he'll feed his five children. And as he looks down at the stump where his right leg ends, he mourns the things he'll never do again.
"Soccer -- that was my passion," he said. "But there's a moment when you know you can't do it anymore. You can't do sports anymore."
Using crutches to move around, it is hard to picture Izquierdo having much of a normal life. He tries to put on a brave face, saying he's thankful for the psychological help. "I will get ahead," he said.
But after running this center for 11 years, Gonzalez knows it won't be easy. She said the center is prepared to keep people here for months -- even longer, if need be.
