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Santiago's Children: What I Learned about Life at an Orphanage in Chile
Runner-up, Bronze Medal, Independent Publishers Book Memoir/Autobiography Category, 2009 Unclear about his future career path, Steve Reifenberg found himself in the early 1980s working at a small orphanage in a poor neighborhood in Santiago, Chile, where a determined single woman was trying to create a stable home for a dozen or so children who had been abandoned or abused. With little more than good intentions and very limited Spanish, the 23-year-old Reifenberg plunged into the life of the Hogar Domingo Savio, becoming a foster father to kids who stretched his capacities for compassion and understanding in ways he never could have imagined back in the United States. In this beautifully written memoir, Reifenberg recalls his two years at the Hogar Domingo Savio. His vivid descriptions create indelible portraits of a dozen remarkable kids—mature-beyond-her-years Verónica; sullen, unresponsive Marcelo; and irrepressible toddler Andrés, among them. As Reifenberg learns more about the children's circumstances, he begins to see the bigger picture of life in Chile at a crucial moment in its history. The early 1980s were a time of economic crisis and political uprising against the brutal military dictatorship of Augusto Pinochet. Reifenberg skillfully interweaves the story of the orphanage with the broader national and international forces that dramatically impact the lives of the kids. By the end of Santiago's Children , Reifenberg has told an engrossing story not only of his own coming-of-age, but also of the courage and resilience of the poorest and most vulnerable residents of Latin America.
250 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 2008
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Displaying 1 - 17 of 17 reviews
July 11, 2021
My son Spencer gave me this book for Christmas. It has been my nighttime reading companion for a few months, getting just a few pages per night before falling on my head. I loved this book for many reasons.
The author, Steve Reifenberg, like many young men was unsettled about his future and decides to take some time to think about life. He ends up in Santiago, Chile in 1982 midway through the 18-year military junta of Pinochet, working in a small orphanage in La Granja, one of the poorest “poblaciónes” in Chile. The orphanage is directed by a very a determined single woman, Olga, who attempts to create a stable home for a small group of abandoned or abused children. This is a difficult time in Chile. Pinochet still rules with an iron fist, dissidents still “disappear” and abandoned children are plentiful.
With little more than good intentions and virtually no Spanish skills (let alone Chilean Spanish) the 23-year-old Reifenberg arrives at the Hogar Domingo Savio, essentially becoming a foster father to the Children of the Hogar. In the process he learns much about himself, life, Chile, and the world. He is stretched in ways he never could have imagined. He spends 2 years at the Hogar and takes an occasional college class at the Universidad de Chile. Reifenberg provides vivid descriptions the of kids he comes to love, Veronica, Marcelo, Andres, Sonia, Alfredo, Rosa, Sonia Chica, Sebastian, Carlos, Marisol among them. Olga is a warrior saint. Bold, fearless and compassionate beyond measure, with unyielding faith. She sacrifices everything for the saving of the children.
As Reifenberg learns more about the children's circumstances, he begins to see the bigger picture of life in Chile at a crucial moment in its history. "Santiago's Children", is not only a compelling story but much broader as we watch Reifenberg grow and demonstrate his own courage.
I saw this story in varying degrees play out for 3 years when we lived in Chile. We tutored, loved, and nurtured 508 young men and women from all over Latin America and North America. All of them like Reifenberg arrived in Chile living in the same neighborhoods. I’ve walked the streets of La Granja, La Pintana, San Bernardo, and many other complicado neighborhoods of Santiago. I saw these young men and women change as they embraced the culture and began to look at the world through the lens of the people they served. Like Reifenberg they were forever changed.
One story in the book was so incredibly moving to me. Reifenberg was attending a class where the professor had invited a guest lecturer, Oscar Hermes, an Argentine poet. Hermes gave a powerful lecture and as he was leaving, he said to the class – “English is the language with which you talk to the world, French the language with which you talk of intellectual things and love, but Spanish, oh Spanish, is the language with which you talk to God.” I’ve heard variations of this sentiment over the years but this one really touched me. I read it to my wife as we sat around a campfire during a canoe trip and began to cry as I reached the last phrase. I cried because that is exactly my experience. I learned Spanish as a 19-year-old missionary. It was particularly hard for me. But it was through Spanish that I learned to really pray. And it was through the poor in the Latino barrios of New York City that I found God. Thank your Steve Reifenberg for a marvelous reminder.
The author, Steve Reifenberg, like many young men was unsettled about his future and decides to take some time to think about life. He ends up in Santiago, Chile in 1982 midway through the 18-year military junta of Pinochet, working in a small orphanage in La Granja, one of the poorest “poblaciónes” in Chile. The orphanage is directed by a very a determined single woman, Olga, who attempts to create a stable home for a small group of abandoned or abused children. This is a difficult time in Chile. Pinochet still rules with an iron fist, dissidents still “disappear” and abandoned children are plentiful.
With little more than good intentions and virtually no Spanish skills (let alone Chilean Spanish) the 23-year-old Reifenberg arrives at the Hogar Domingo Savio, essentially becoming a foster father to the Children of the Hogar. In the process he learns much about himself, life, Chile, and the world. He is stretched in ways he never could have imagined. He spends 2 years at the Hogar and takes an occasional college class at the Universidad de Chile. Reifenberg provides vivid descriptions the of kids he comes to love, Veronica, Marcelo, Andres, Sonia, Alfredo, Rosa, Sonia Chica, Sebastian, Carlos, Marisol among them. Olga is a warrior saint. Bold, fearless and compassionate beyond measure, with unyielding faith. She sacrifices everything for the saving of the children.
As Reifenberg learns more about the children's circumstances, he begins to see the bigger picture of life in Chile at a crucial moment in its history. "Santiago's Children", is not only a compelling story but much broader as we watch Reifenberg grow and demonstrate his own courage.
I saw this story in varying degrees play out for 3 years when we lived in Chile. We tutored, loved, and nurtured 508 young men and women from all over Latin America and North America. All of them like Reifenberg arrived in Chile living in the same neighborhoods. I’ve walked the streets of La Granja, La Pintana, San Bernardo, and many other complicado neighborhoods of Santiago. I saw these young men and women change as they embraced the culture and began to look at the world through the lens of the people they served. Like Reifenberg they were forever changed.
One story in the book was so incredibly moving to me. Reifenberg was attending a class where the professor had invited a guest lecturer, Oscar Hermes, an Argentine poet. Hermes gave a powerful lecture and as he was leaving, he said to the class – “English is the language with which you talk to the world, French the language with which you talk of intellectual things and love, but Spanish, oh Spanish, is the language with which you talk to God.” I’ve heard variations of this sentiment over the years but this one really touched me. I read it to my wife as we sat around a campfire during a canoe trip and began to cry as I reached the last phrase. I cried because that is exactly my experience. I learned Spanish as a 19-year-old missionary. It was particularly hard for me. But it was through Spanish that I learned to really pray. And it was through the poor in the Latino barrios of New York City that I found God. Thank your Steve Reifenberg for a marvelous reminder.
May 1, 2016
Think Little Princes, but with less hype...and more thoughtfully done. In the early 80s, Reifenberg—not long out of college—moved down to Chile to spend a year volunteering at an orphanage. He knew little Spanish and little about Chile, but he had a lot of determination. Although I truly wanted to help people, he says, I also wanted to backpack through the Andes Mountains and visit Machu Picchu in Peru; to walk the white beaches of the Pacific coast of South America and experience the solidarity that people feel living under military rule; to drink Chilean red wine and eat clams out of the shells; to study the stars of the Southern Hemisphere; and to learn about another culture and to speak Spanish well. What I wanted was an adventure (36).
Reifenberg's parents weren't thrilled with the endeavour, to say the least: they wanted him back in the States, working and earning money, not volunteering in a not entirely stable country. (This wasn't helped by the fact that Reifenberg's teenage brother started referring to him as 'Steve, God rest his soul' and then just 'God rest his soul'—though, in one of the funnier extended anecdotes of the book, the entire family started doing this.) But Reifenberg went for it anyway, eventually extending his year to two years and scrapping his plans for law school. (His family, by the way, came around: I was amazed at how well my family communicated with everyone in Santiago. In fact, it was disconcerting how much better they seemed to be managing than I did when I first arrived. The difference: I had been so insistent on learning the right word in Spanish that it often got in the way of communication. My family was just interested in communicating however they could (203).) Although there's some personal story here, and although the book is flavoured with politics (especially as Reifenberg's Spanish and cultural awareness improve and he is better able to follow the political climate), he keeps the focus right where it should be: on Olga, the woman who founded and ran the orphanage, and on the children. The goal here was to keep it small and organised like a family, and as Reifenberg tells it, Olga succeeded.
"This is amazing. There are twenty some people around this table and it runs like clockwork. Are these kids always this well behaved?" my father asked me.
"We told the kids," I said in English, "that they would have to go back to the salt mines where they would get only bread and water if they didn't behave themselves."
"Tío, what did you say?" Verónica asked me.
"My father things you're wonderful and I do too," I responded. Verónica beamed. I was glad to some extent, I guess, that both my efforts to teach the kids English and my father's efforts to learn Spanish had not been spectacularly successful. (202)
Nobody's perfect, and nobody in this book is perfect; the kids are kids, sometimes lovable and sometimes...well, stranglable isn't a word, is it? But they got by. Reifenberg seems aware of the limitations of his role: he was a temporary visitor, and one without a concrete role at that. Perhaps his most significant contributions were a) fundraising when he was back in the States, leading Olga to be able to buy a house outright, and b) getting more involvement from expats, again possibly leading to more financial help.
Much later, Reifenberg moved back to Santiago for work, and he provides follow-up information for the kids he worked with. It's a very satisfying read.
Reifenberg's parents weren't thrilled with the endeavour, to say the least: they wanted him back in the States, working and earning money, not volunteering in a not entirely stable country. (This wasn't helped by the fact that Reifenberg's teenage brother started referring to him as 'Steve, God rest his soul' and then just 'God rest his soul'—though, in one of the funnier extended anecdotes of the book, the entire family started doing this.) But Reifenberg went for it anyway, eventually extending his year to two years and scrapping his plans for law school. (His family, by the way, came around: I was amazed at how well my family communicated with everyone in Santiago. In fact, it was disconcerting how much better they seemed to be managing than I did when I first arrived. The difference: I had been so insistent on learning the right word in Spanish that it often got in the way of communication. My family was just interested in communicating however they could (203).) Although there's some personal story here, and although the book is flavoured with politics (especially as Reifenberg's Spanish and cultural awareness improve and he is better able to follow the political climate), he keeps the focus right where it should be: on Olga, the woman who founded and ran the orphanage, and on the children. The goal here was to keep it small and organised like a family, and as Reifenberg tells it, Olga succeeded.
"This is amazing. There are twenty some people around this table and it runs like clockwork. Are these kids always this well behaved?" my father asked me.
"We told the kids," I said in English, "that they would have to go back to the salt mines where they would get only bread and water if they didn't behave themselves."
"Tío, what did you say?" Verónica asked me.
"My father things you're wonderful and I do too," I responded. Verónica beamed. I was glad to some extent, I guess, that both my efforts to teach the kids English and my father's efforts to learn Spanish had not been spectacularly successful. (202)
Nobody's perfect, and nobody in this book is perfect; the kids are kids, sometimes lovable and sometimes...well, stranglable isn't a word, is it? But they got by. Reifenberg seems aware of the limitations of his role: he was a temporary visitor, and one without a concrete role at that. Perhaps his most significant contributions were a) fundraising when he was back in the States, leading Olga to be able to buy a house outright, and b) getting more involvement from expats, again possibly leading to more financial help.
Much later, Reifenberg moved back to Santiago for work, and he provides follow-up information for the kids he worked with. It's a very satisfying read.
August 18, 2018
Read this while living in Santiago; it made a big impression on me. The author is an acquaintance of both my brother and my Chilean landlord. It opened my eyes to another side of the city I was getting to know, but made me feel regret that my time in Chile was so focused on myself and my family and we made no efforts to serve the community we were living in.
December 8, 2023
really enjoyed this book and steve reifenberg's talk about it. I was sick the day before my paper was due and my friends read and summarized like 60 pages for me which was so kind and made this one particularly memorable.
March 16, 2021
A moving account of a Santiago home overflowing with kids, laughter, love, and tinny Christmas music.
July 8, 2009
I recommend a lot of books. Usually, this is just a verbal suggestion, one that gives people the opportunity to go to the store or their online book-purchasing venue of choice to decide for themselves, whether or not the book is their cup of tea. I rarely, though, give books to people as presents as I am afraid that what I read will not, ultimately, satisfy my friends and family or the occasional interested stranger. A year after I first read Steven Reifenberg’s Santiago’s Children, I can safely say that this is my only pick for gift giving. It has become my number one go-to book.
Like many middle-class college grads, Steve found himself bound for law school, in 1982. Questioning this decision, he began looking into alternatives. He enlisted the help of several friends who had recently worked abroad, looking for a way make even a meager wage while experiencing something less cookie-cutter. A friend who had recently been in Chile gave him the name of a small children’s home run by a woman named Olga Diaz. Needless to say, he never made it to Indiana to being his first year. He opted out of academia and headed south with nothing but a name and a vague hope of finding fulfillment.
Within the walls of Hogar Domingo Savio, Olga Diaz’ cramped but cozy orphanage, the tiny heroes of the story painted a more tropical version of a Dickens tragedy. Most of the children came under Olga’s care through abandonment or abuse, their parents and guardians victims of political upheaval or other, less noble fates. Olga welcomed (and still welcomes) all with open arms, often biting of chunks almost too big to chew. Despite the desperate means by which the members come to the home, the children are full of energy and wonder, engaging their older caregivers in their optimism.
Nearly a decade before, Salvador Allende had been killed in the Sept. 11th military coup, plunging the country into the age of Pinochet’s rule. Thus, Steve began his stay in a Chile wrecked by economic and political chaos. Initially on the outskirts of the political wave, Reifenberg, Diaz and the children eventually found their own voices and brand of descent in the unfolding social scene as times become desperate.
Of course, the children of Hogar Domingo Savio were not the only youths changed by Steve’s stay. Over the span of two years, Reifenberg went through a range of monumental and subtle changes that are contrasting, albeit familiar, to those changes brought to twenty-somethings anywhere. Perhaps the most moving period of the book came when Steve found himself bed bound for an extended period of time due to illness. As a young crusader, he felt torn with guilt at appearing completely useless when so much needed to be done. After struggling with ethic, internally, Steve finally rested on the conclusion that until he is able to take care of himself, he can be in no shape to help those around him. This thesis is a powerful one, yet a hard one to completely grasp for many, especially those who have launched themselves into the unknown with the intention of helping others.
This is a fantastic little book. There is an incredible amount of care given to paint the two Chiles, one, on the outside, where guns and politicians blazed, the other painted so beautifully that it was easy to forget the intensely real and desperate backdrop amidst the laughter and lives of the children and their various adventures. Far from appealing solely to young expatriates, this story will strike en emotional chord with most readers, as it is truly a wonderful and moving coming of age story as well as a readable and poignant history of the political climate of past and modern Chile.
As Olga’s operation is still alive and well, each copy of Santiago’s Children sold will see half of the author’s profits given to the continuing support of work with at-risk children in Chile, primarily to support the work of the Hogar Domingo Savio (now Mi Club Domingo Savio).
Like many middle-class college grads, Steve found himself bound for law school, in 1982. Questioning this decision, he began looking into alternatives. He enlisted the help of several friends who had recently worked abroad, looking for a way make even a meager wage while experiencing something less cookie-cutter. A friend who had recently been in Chile gave him the name of a small children’s home run by a woman named Olga Diaz. Needless to say, he never made it to Indiana to being his first year. He opted out of academia and headed south with nothing but a name and a vague hope of finding fulfillment.
Within the walls of Hogar Domingo Savio, Olga Diaz’ cramped but cozy orphanage, the tiny heroes of the story painted a more tropical version of a Dickens tragedy. Most of the children came under Olga’s care through abandonment or abuse, their parents and guardians victims of political upheaval or other, less noble fates. Olga welcomed (and still welcomes) all with open arms, often biting of chunks almost too big to chew. Despite the desperate means by which the members come to the home, the children are full of energy and wonder, engaging their older caregivers in their optimism.
Nearly a decade before, Salvador Allende had been killed in the Sept. 11th military coup, plunging the country into the age of Pinochet’s rule. Thus, Steve began his stay in a Chile wrecked by economic and political chaos. Initially on the outskirts of the political wave, Reifenberg, Diaz and the children eventually found their own voices and brand of descent in the unfolding social scene as times become desperate.
Of course, the children of Hogar Domingo Savio were not the only youths changed by Steve’s stay. Over the span of two years, Reifenberg went through a range of monumental and subtle changes that are contrasting, albeit familiar, to those changes brought to twenty-somethings anywhere. Perhaps the most moving period of the book came when Steve found himself bed bound for an extended period of time due to illness. As a young crusader, he felt torn with guilt at appearing completely useless when so much needed to be done. After struggling with ethic, internally, Steve finally rested on the conclusion that until he is able to take care of himself, he can be in no shape to help those around him. This thesis is a powerful one, yet a hard one to completely grasp for many, especially those who have launched themselves into the unknown with the intention of helping others.
This is a fantastic little book. There is an incredible amount of care given to paint the two Chiles, one, on the outside, where guns and politicians blazed, the other painted so beautifully that it was easy to forget the intensely real and desperate backdrop amidst the laughter and lives of the children and their various adventures. Far from appealing solely to young expatriates, this story will strike en emotional chord with most readers, as it is truly a wonderful and moving coming of age story as well as a readable and poignant history of the political climate of past and modern Chile.
As Olga’s operation is still alive and well, each copy of Santiago’s Children sold will see half of the author’s profits given to the continuing support of work with at-risk children in Chile, primarily to support the work of the Hogar Domingo Savio (now Mi Club Domingo Savio).
October 28, 2008
5.0 out of 5 stars A True Delight, October 28, 2008
By C. sturgis - See all my reviews
(REAL NAME)
I just finished Santiago's Children and I just want to go back and read it all again. Steve Reifenberg has written a book that opens the door into a period in a young man's life as he takes risks in discovering his life journey as well into a time in Chile's history in which the country began its new path. And rippling throughout the book are the stories of the children at the orphanage as they make sense of their lives.
What is most remarkable about this book is how it weaves together Reifenberg's self-deprecating humor, the life force and tragedy of the children, the courage of the founder of the orphanage, the quiet fear of the government, and the growing courage of Chileans as they demand greater justice in their lives.
Honestly, I can almost see and hear the laughing yelling of the children as they follow along with Reifenberg on his runs, the beating of pots and pans in the evening sky, and the precious conversations with the children as they open up their lives and hearts.
This is a definite must-read. It is also one of those rare books that would make a great present to just about anyone.
I hope you enjoy it as much as I did.
April 13, 2018
Against all common sense and advice, Reifenberg decided to ditch college for the duration and show up in Chile to help at an orphanage. He knew little Spanish, less about Chile, and almost nothing about orphans. The result is a feet-to-the fire experience of dealing with poverty, politics, culture shock and all the insane things kids get into without even trying. The author manages to see the humor in his situation without making this a comedic story. He manages to impart the tragedy and pathos without making it a sob story.
This was one of my favorite books this year, and it may be my favorite memoir ever. It was both touching and entertaining. Highly recommended.
This was one of my favorite books this year, and it may be my favorite memoir ever. It was both touching and entertaining. Highly recommended.
September 2, 2010
Five stars due to the personal relevancy of the book. Having lived in Santiago and preparing to leave for an orphanage in Latin America, I really enjoyed this story. Written by the author 25 years after he spent 2 years at a small orphanage in Chile, it did a good job of getting me to think about my upcoming time in Guatemala.
The book is very clearly written and I read it in about 3 days (thanks to my bike being out of commission and my car in the shop, I had to take the bus/train everywhere the past few days). Thanks Mama for sending it my way. I'll get it back to you soon.
The book is very clearly written and I read it in about 3 days (thanks to my bike being out of commission and my car in the shop, I had to take the bus/train everywhere the past few days). Thanks Mama for sending it my way. I'll get it back to you soon.
July 2, 2011
I recognized much less of the Santiago in this book than I expected to. A few decades of growth (not to mention the return to democracy) can have large impacts. More than that, however, I think this book reminded me of how sheltered I was during my time in Chile. I lived and studied and hung out in middle (or upper) class neighborhoods all of the time. The world that Steve Reifenberg describes--the poverty, the alcoholism, the joblessness--was not something I had to deal with.
January 10, 2013
This is one of the best memoirs I have read in a very long time. I spent my lunch breaks at work reading it in my car because it was hard to put down. If you have a real interest in traveling or moving to another country this is a great book to inspire you. Reinfenberg could have easily fallen into so many cliches while writing about culture shock, poverty and America's role in developing nations. But he managed to put his ego aside and paint a delightful portrait of Chile in the 1980s.
July 29, 2015
As a former volunteer in Chile, I found that this book resonated with me on so many levels. Steve's honest and endearing chronicle of his struggles living in the hogar shines with truth. I highly recommend this book to anyone interested in Chile or in international volunteering in general. This is certainly a peek behind the curtain. It is not always pretty but is, ultimately, very human and highly satisfying.
November 5, 2008
I felt really close to Steve and his experience, not only with the children, but as well in the life moment of deciding what to do with my future.
I'm really glad to be participating in the blog of Santiago's Children www.santiagoschildren.com !!
I'm really glad to be participating in the blog of Santiago's Children www.santiagoschildren.com !!
June 24, 2008
Informative book about serving abroad. Also does a great job of covering political situation in Chile during the 1980s.
March 10, 2010
A good, mild account of the author's work in a small orphanage outside Santiago, Chile, during the early 1980s. Interesting but nothing earthshaking. Helpful.
October 9, 2011
Interesting man. Just met him at Laredo One City, One Book and he charmed all the students who got to meet him. He is sincere and a joy to listen to. Makes his book all the better.
July 18, 2015
I feel I know Steve personally. Well done.
Displaying 1 - 17 of 17 reviews