Good day dear reader, I hope you had a great week. Mine has been interesting.
A friend of mine who is also homeless is back in the hospital. I've been looking after him for weeks because he is 75 years old and his memory sometimes fails him. He forgets to take care of himself, so I became his friend while helping him out.
In my previous letter, I mentioned leaving Germany, which was the best part of my childhood. There is no other way to describe it. Even today I can close my eyes and remember looking out the window to the street below, the beautiful German neighborhood I lived in.
I don't quite remember arriving in Peru. What I do recall, was that we met my grandma, and she was very kind and sweet to me. At first I could not understand her, but I felt her love. Mother decided to place me in a private school to help me adapt.
That was a big mistake. Because I spoke German the kids at the school started to say "Hail Hitler" to me (among other thing). At the time I didn't know what it meant, but the tone in which was spoken made it clear to me, that I was being insulted. I got bullied every day, until I told my mother about Hitler.
She became very upset over it and took me out of that private school within days. I thought that speaking German was bad, so I started to watch TV more; kids shows of course. While my mother was figuring out where I should go to school; I was learning Spanish in record time.
By the time she decided on the local school "Don Bosco" my Spanish was good enough so I wouldn't be picked on. I didn't take long to become a normal Peruvian kid. My favorite sport was basketball, rather than soccer (we call it Futbol).
I had good grades, wasn't a troublemaker and only got into one fight with a kid which was... let's say heavier than me. I must've been around 10 years old when it happened. He was a little older than me, the fight took place at a park not too far from the school. A lot of kids were there, forming a circle around us.
I remember that he hit me first. I took a punch to the right side of my face and asked him "Is that the hardest you can hit me?". He then charged me at a speed I didn't think was possible (because of his weight).
Next thing I'm on the ground and he is on top of me, sitting on me. I'm face down, unable to get up. He is just jumping up and down as if I was a sofa. Everyone was laughing, while I was in pain every time he put his weight down on me.
I had no choice but to give up. He got up and made it clear to everyone he was the winner by raising his arms. I don't even remember the reason for the fight, but it was the second time I felt embarrassed, the first being called Hitler.
Funny enough, within a few weeks we sort of became friends. Not close friends, but close enough that nobody would even think of messing with me. He was a bully and nobody in our class ever challenged him. The kids which were in the higher grades didn't mess with him either,
That part of my childhood was average I guess. My family was middle class, well, lower middle class. We did not own a house, we rented. I tried to forget Germany, because it made me feel as if I had gone from paradise to a bad place.
One day for some reason that I can't quite figure out myself to this day, I faked passing out right after school was out. I was so convincing that one of my teachers took me to the principal's office so he could take a look at me, The school was run by Father Pighi and Father Puy (I think that is how it is pronounced, I could not find any info online about Puy).
I "woke up" on the leather couch in the office and pretended to not know how I had gotten there, my mother showed up worried but I assured her that I was feeling fine, I suspect that maybe I did it to get her attention because she was sort of dating one of my teachers, but I really don't know if that was the reason. After all, he was one of my favorite teachers.
Within a few years I had totally forgotten my days in Hamburg, instead my mind was in getting candy, playing games at the local arcade, playing basketball at my school (after classes were over).
However something which in the long run would change my life came out of nowhere. Grandma, the person I loved the most (more than my mother) was leaving us. She had a sister in New York and she was going to join her. I had no idea why she had to go, I begged her to stay but all she would say was that she loved me and that she would send me gifts.
I had no idea why she was leaving. Of course now I know why she did it. Our family was struggling financially, I didn't see it because I was a child. Had she stayed... I'm pretty sure she would have protected me from the nightmare that would taint my childhood forever.
It won't be easy writing the next letter dear reader, but I will try my best.
May you walk in the light of God.
Sincerely.
Luis
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