A Man with Many Questions

He came into our office today. He smelled of something I can’t quite explain. A musty mix of sweat and some other undefined pungent odor. He only had a few of his teeth left and one was outlined in gold. He wore traditional working clothes and a typical hat. His hands were calloused from years of hard work. He had a sad but hopeful look in his eye and he asked a lot of questions.

“Miss? Are you the lawyer? No? When will she be here? I don’t have much time. What is this place exactly? You see, I’m very poor. I don’t have any money. Do I need to pay? All I have is this business card of your lawyer and this map to your office. I made it here, but I don’t have much time. When will she be here? How many lawyers do you have? Just one? But isn’t this an international mission? Do you have a social worker? It’s just that we’ve been having many problems. And on top of it all, they just took our cow and we don’t know what to do. Does anyone here speak Aymara? I’m not comfortable in Spanish. I’d be much more comfortable in Aymara. Is there anyone here who could translate for me?”

As I listened to this man’s tirade of nervous questions, I tried my best to concentrate and give him the best answers possible. However, I couldn’t help but entertain some of the wondering questions that were pushing their way into my mind. Where had this man come from? What was his story? What must he be feeling? He is desperately seeking legal help for a case that is plaguing him. But he is nervous because he doesn’t have any money to pay fees. I assume that the help he is seeking is for a daughter of his who has been abused sexually or he probably wouldn’t have been referred to us. What must it be like for him to seek out an unknown office with a hand-drawn map? He finds the office and enters only to be greeted by a young blonde girl who speaks Spanish with a North American accent and she keeps asking him to wait for the lawyer who has stepped out but will return. He is nervous. He doesn’t know how long he can wait. He doesn’t know if he will find the help he is seeking. He doesn’t know if he will be able to communicate his plea because he doesn’t trust his Spanish. He would rather communicate in Aymara. When Cristina, the Aymaran woman who comes twice a week to clean, walks around the corner he eagerly greats her and begins to pour out his plea again in his native tongue. I imagine that he must feel a horrifying mixture of hope and desperation simply longing for a solution. For someone to help. For justice. All he wants is justice for his beloved daughter who has been damaged.

I am speculating now, but the stories are so similar. Parents heartbroken for what their child has suffered and desperate to gain justice, but powerless to do so. They come to us. They dare to have a glimmer of hope when we offer to consider the possibility of accepting their case. They may allow this glimmer of hope to ignite into a flame when we offer them all of our resources and allegiance - to fight the case to the bitter end. But it’s easy for the flame to flicker. The process is a difficult one. We can’t promise results, only that we will fight. And we fight. Sometimes for years we fight. Just yesterday we got a sentence for the rapist of a young girl. The sentence was 20 years. We were satisfied. Other times we fight and we lose. A few weeks ago, we lost a case that we had been fighting for two years.

How will this man’s story end? Will we be able to take his case? Will we be able secure justice for him when we travel through the legal pathways that are so marked with corruption and distortion? What about his daughter? Will the broken parts of her ever heal? Will she be able to move on and live her life in a healthy and lively manner? I can only hope that the answers to these questions will be all be yes. I can only cling to the glimmer of hope that I saw in the man’s eyes this morning. And I can only pray that this hope I saw is ultimately based in the everpresent hope that comes from the One in whom there exists an everpresent help in times of need. Oh Lord, please do not let this man suffer alone. Please fight for him. Please fight with him. Please bring healing and justice to his broken family.