Chapter 19: Buying a Hotel for the Homeless

The next morning, I realised that I had almost forgotten something important. The petrol station attendant had given me a letter for Velitta Karlina Ultrikis, which I was sure, was an answer from her parents. I was delighted, but a little worried that the news might upset the child. Together with Prija, the Latvian girl’s godmother, I gave her the letter as soon as she got up. After seeing how Katya’s father had reacted to the phone call, I asked her to read the letter in front of us. Velitta read the short letter, smiled a little painfully, but explained to us briefly that it was the answer she had been expecting. The parents were grateful for the information and happy that she was doing well, but said they had no way of taking Velitta back at the moment. They could not afford the cost of the flight. In addition, their apartment was too small and there were problems with the authorities because Mrs Ultrikis was Russian and, as a so-called non-citizen, could not obtain Latvian citizenship because she did not speak the Latvian language sufficiently.

On the Internet, I found out that Russians were discriminated against and had fewer rights in all three Baltic States. On the one hand, the anger against the former Russian occupiers was understandable, but what could an individual do about it? Velitta’s letter showed me what a complicated language Latvian is. Although I spoke several languages, I didn’t understand a word. Many letters had over scores or other symbols. I never wanted to learn this language. But I didn’t know if this was the real reason why Velitta was not allowed to return. Although, there was one good thing about it: the nice and sweet Velitta was allowed to stay with us.

The 4th of October was an important date for all of us. For days, there was only one thing on our minds. Would we be able to turn the Montoya family’s hotel into a home for some poor, homeless Indio women? Our young women had so many ideas and suggestions, some of them completely unrealistic, but it was a great joy to see how they tried to put themselves in the shoes of the women and children in their complicated lives and do the best they could for their better future.

The excitement was palpable even at breakfast. For the first time in months, we were sitting around the big table again, the thirteen young ladies from the first group and the three of us adults from the Palazzo. The sixth-graders had arranged the tables on the terrace to form a long table, ate together, but were also restless, had lively discussions, and were keen to contribute to the design of the homeless shelter and to the success of the party.

Lenya had translated a newspaper clipping from Spanish and distributed several copies at both tables. Although there was no article about the situation of the homeless in Trujillo, the information from Lima was devastating.

In the Comas region near the capital Lima, there are currently around 3,800 underage girls between the ages of 12 and 17 who have already given birth. Most of these teenage mothers drop out of school when they become pregnant. Only a third of the mothers have completed primary school. The young girls are ostracised by society for their pregnancy and receive little help. One in three teenage mothers is a single parent after giving birth. Many are completely overwhelmed by the situation. There are no social services for mothers in the entire Comas region, which has a population of almost 500,000.

We suddenly realised that our help was just a drop in the ocean. We would never be able to solve the problem of the children’s mothers on our own. But we wanted to help in any way we could. Lenya explains the situation clearly. “It mainly affects the poorest, mostly Indio families. To help young Indio girls, we need to stop them having children so early. That means education, better schooling and, above all, a future for these young people. Until now, the rule for most of them has been ‘Once poor, always poor’.”

Lenya read out another important sentence from a fundraising appeal:

“The teenage mothers known as ‘mamitas’ have no realistic chance of a better future on their own.”

Our doctor added, “The most important thing for me is basic health care and clean drinking water, especially for young children. But the slums are catastrophic. There is no water, no electricity. Trees urgently need to be planted so that people have at least some shade. Thousands live on a rubbish dump and feed on the city’s waste”.

The photos Ramona showed of the El Milagro slum in Trujillo were shocking. Until now we had only seen the beautiful side of the big city. Many of the slum dwellers were not included in any statistics and had no valid papers. Births were often unregistered. The discussion became more and more emotional. When Kira started to cry, I intervened. “Guys don’t be sad. There are slums like this in many countries around the world. We must not despair. We have to focus on how we can help. If we help just one family, we will have achieved more than all the politicians who talk about people’s problems but do nothing to change them. Zarina, please show everyone what you have planned.”

Zarina passed around the floor plans of the hotel’s three floors. “We have 28 rooms, a restaurant, a kitchen, and a small apartment. Each room has a double bed, two wardrobes, and a table with two chairs. If we put two women and their one or two children in each room, we can help at least 56 women and maybe 60 or 70 children. It’s only a small contribution, but I’m very happy to be able to help the poor teenage mothers. Hey, this is going to be a really good thing. Be happy with me.”

Now the mood was better. Other suggestions included building a playroom, clearing the overgrown garden behind the house, and using the car park as a children’s playground.

For me, the most important question was how we would find suitable staff to run the women’s shelter and whether the women from the park would accept the offer. Perhaps it would even be a job for Lucia and Kantu to persuade the poor women to come and live at the shelter and perhaps then look after the residents. But one thing at a time. First, we wanted to buy the hotel.

After the emotional discussion, Mayari referred to the celebration planned for the afternoon and asked everyone not to rush over to the four young men she had invited with the folklore band. Nevertheless, some funny, sometimes cheeky remarks were made. The mood became more and more exuberant. The anticipation of the party was growing.

Ramona suddenly became serious. “Ladies, I expect self-control and discipline. The boys are between the ages of 16 and 18 and probably have little experience with girls or women. Enjoy the afternoon together, dance, sing, flirt, but I definitely don’t want you to overdo it or even go to bed with them. Think of it as a test to see if we can do this more often in the future. I’m counting on you. Behave yourselves, ladies.”

I had never seen our doctor in such a way before, but she was right. There had to be rules. So far, it had been easy. I was the only man and I could control the young women’s feelings and behaviour. For the first time, they were being unleashed on the opposite sex, but they had no experience of it.

While the young mothers looked after their children, I discussed the schedule and rules with Mayari and Ramona. After the official celebration and the communal dance on the forecourt, the sixth-graders and the teenagers were supposed to organize a disco in the basement on their own responsibility, while the adults continued to celebrate outside. Ramona told me what she thought we should look out for. To reassure us, I locked all the basement rooms. I really trusted our ladies. But I wanted to make sure.

Shortly afterwards, the phone rang. Dr Jamah, the psychologist from the University of Trujillo, had accepted my invitation to today’s ceremony and was coming with his wife and two children to spend the weekend with us. Three rooms in the Casa were prepared for the Montoya family and the notary. All the other rooms in the Casa were occupied. Priya agreed to prepare my bedroom and provide two mattresses for the Indian family’s children to sleep on. I hoped this would be acceptable for the additional guests.

Class 6 still had English and Maths lessons in the hall of the Palazzo. The English lesson was to inform the students about the hotel purchase and how to behave during the party. Then it was time to prepare the large banquet table for the meal with the guests. The final meeting and signing of the contract was planned for my study. Last night four of the younger girls had polished the room and vacuumed the valuable carpets.

Luckily, the weather was great. The sun had been shining since early morning, but a light breeze cooled things down a little. While all the available young people cleaned the forecourt and grounds, Zarina and Fahsai built a small platform for the Indio-band out of wooden pallets. Again, I admired Zarina’s skill with the forklift.

Babette had withdrawn the extra guards at the entrance to the valley, leaving Mauro to keep watch from the tree house. Ronya and Gulla flew a drone every hour along the old mining road up into the gorge. It wasn’t absolutely necessary, but it gave our commander a sense of security. The two girls loved their job and proudly reported back to our commander after each flight.

The security gate was left open today. The fence was decorated with garlands and balloons. The guests were awaited. We had also invited all the residents of our Indio village and the construction workers. Luisa was expecting more than thirty guests.

Luca asked me if he could pick up some young people from the mountain village on his way back from the petrol station. Some of the young people wanted to take part in our festival. I learned how often Luca had brought villagers to the petrol station to sell their products and do some shopping, and how good his relationship was with the villagers. Maybe this was a chance to get more families interested in moving to our village. I agreed, of course, but asked him to pick up the ordered goods in San Huano first, and if possible, to buy some chickens in the village, as we couldn’t prepare enough food for so many visitors.

Kira and Sula helped me set up our large barbecue in the forecourt. We hadn’t used the BBQ for a long time, but it had come in very handy when we had no electricity in the Palazzo because of the dispute with the villagers. Since the early hours of the morning, we had also been using the brick oven in the garden to make charcoal. Later, Luisa wanted to bake a lot of flat bread there.

There was a lot going on in our kitchen. Luisa’s mother Djamila, grandmother Alejandra and Olivia’s mother Jimena helped with the cooking. Qesra was in charge of the BBQ. Yesterday she had fried chevapi, a Macedonian speciality made from minced meat, but not pork as usual, but alpaca meat. Three of her classmates wanted to help her with the barbecue.

We had lunch on the terrace. There was soup and a sweet dessert made of coloured corn and fruit. A banquet was planned for the evening. The Indio band was already with us. Babette, informed by Ronya’s drone surveillance, had been expecting them, and had let them in. They ate with us on the covered part of the terrace. The four young men sat down to eat at the side of the anteroom. They were obviously very shy in our group. Ana, Abril, and Inka in particular sought contact, giggled like little girls, and sat down so that they could watch the boys eat.

When two sirens went off, I drove to the entrance, armed of course. It was Imram’s van and an SUV with the notary Sanchez and the Montoya family. Babette, of course, was already standing at the well-secured entrance. The drone patrol had already informed our commander 15 minutes earlier about the arrival of the guests. I was not really needed, so I watched from a distance. Babette sent Imram to the palazzo with the ordered goods, greeted our guests, and showed them into the Casa. Now I had the opportunity to greet our guests as well. “Commandante Babette, would you allow me to greet the guests?”

The notary looked at me in amusement, and Agustin and Dr Jamah were also astonished. They thought it was a game. Babette replied confidently, “Of course, I allow it. When can I hand over command to you again?”

“This evening, please, Commandante, after your roll call.”

It was no easy to explained to the guests why Babette was the ‘Commandante’ during my trip abroad and had full responsibility for life in the valley. Somehow, our guests didn’t want to believe it, especially since Babette did not exactly look military with her pregnant belly, but she showed her authority when she reassigned the guard posts and received the next report from Ronya about the sighting of our Landcruiser with her drone.

Olivia took the notary and the Montoyas to their rooms while I took Dr Jamah’s family, who arrived shortly afterwards, to the palazzo. We had arranged a tour of the valley for 3 p.m. The Indian family initially refused to spend the night in my bedroom. Sula and Zelda had changed the sheets and prepared the two beds for the children. Su reassured the guests. “It’s nice if his room is occupied. Then he has to sleep with Luisa or our doctor. That way you’ll make at least one woman happy.” She winked at the doctor, whose wife blushed with embarrassment.

The tour of our area was basically the same as the previous ones. This time, however, the main question was how the isolation had come about. The answer was quickly found by showing the destroyed bridge and the remains of the crashed helicopter. But the three older men refused to believe the story about the overgrown road. First, I showed them the older aerial photographs in my study. The latest Google Maps showed that our road had not yet been cleared; it was still completely overgrown. The satellite imagery had not been updated.

“That was more than sixty kilometres,” Agustin marvelled. “How did you manage that?”

“Everyone helped, but Babette and Sula did most of the work. For two years, they cycled many kilometres uphill almost every day and cut down thousands of trees”.

From the roof of the palazzo, I showed our guests the vastness of our valley and the magnificent snow-capped mountains in the distance. The notary and I enjoyed smoking a cigarette on the roof in the warm afternoon sun. Mrs Montoya had not joined us on the roof. She and her daughter were visiting our kindergarten upstairs. Willka was waking the older children from their afternoon nap. Everyone in the valley was more than busy. We had such wonderful young women who gave their best every day. From my point of view, it could hardly have been better. Agustin confirmed this to me a little later when he translated his mother’s praise for us after she had visited the toddler group on the other side of the upper floor.