A Renaissance Man Named Coco

Nothing excites me more then when I meet someone who’s truly extraordinaire, a person whose achievements leaves me speechless. Today was such a day, someone who is an actor, an artist, a sculptor, an author, a landscape designer, a personal trainer, cares for his aged father, and is a devoted and dedicated father to two boys under 14 years. While that alone is clearly impressive, this is not what leaves me in awe. On top of all this, this man is ALSO a clown at the children’s hospital (think Patch Adams), visits and works with numerous albergues (refuges) for children, orphans, and victims of domestic violence. A renaissance man who’s truly selfless.

His name is Coco Limo, and he is without a doubt one of THE most interesting people I’ve ever had the privilege to met; someone who after looking after his two sons, thinks of others, someone whose sold his clothing in order to buy food and shelter for others, and someone whose artistic talent matches his selfless nature. He was introduced to me by my niece Fabiola, who has known Coco since they were back in high school. Fabiola phoned Coco and asked if he wanted a hand sometime, and if so, how I’d love to join.

My time with him started when. Coco picked me up at 7 AM, after he dropping his sons at school. His energy was self evident from the moment I shook his hand. You know how there are times when you immediately connect with someone from the first hand shake?  Well, that’s exactly how it was when I met Coco. I knew right then that I was in for one hell of a day; and sure enough, he didn’t let me down.

We drove to his house, where he showed me some of his woodwork, which he mentioned he sells to raise money for his work with albergues. But we soon got straight to it, packing his car with children’s toys others have donated, let alone an old ceramic toilet, which looked like it hadn’t been used in years. He told me how people often stop by to donate things they felt he could use, and sure enough, he can and does.

Our first stop was to a pueblo joven/favela, or new towns set up by squatters in the more remote and poorer parts of Lima. Unlike many other parts, the lower you are to sea level, the more prestigious part of “town”, as it’s an easier walk to the bus and ammenities. The homes closer to sea level, therefore, tend to be made from brick, while those homes higher up the mountain are often windowless and uninsulated, and made from plyboard or cardboard.

We stopped at a small school nursery, which through Coco’s work, were able to bring actual physical classrooms to the school, let alone cement floors and covered and cemented play area. Coco mentioned how once built, they sadly had to build a large security wall around the small school, as people would break in at night to steal parts of the building. Abject poverty.

As we pulled in, he was greeted immediately by the thankful teachers and volunteers. We opened the boot of his car, and unloaded the toys for the children; which of course they all appreciated. “We have to reach out to the children early, as its only through education that they can get a better life.” Amen Coco, amen to that.

We jumped back into his car and started driving up the hill, to the “poorer” part of this favela. As we drove up, he mentioned how he met a young family while he was clowning at the children’s hospital. This family has a teenage boy who suffers from cerebral palsy.  As this family lived in a thin uninsulated home made of plyboard, the winter cold and humidity was clearly more life threatening to this boy than his cerebral palsy. So Coco stepped up to action, and with the help of his friends, built this family a proper brick home, and with proper windows. Once we reached the top of this mountain, which I must admit I was wondering if we’d make it given the thin and windy unpaved dirt road, we carried this toilet up what seemed like six flights of stairs.

As we drove to our next destination, he added how this boy’s now 22 yo mother had him when she was just 15 yo, and how after he was born, the 45 yo “father” abandoned them both. But she soon met this A young man of her age, who not only married this single mother, but raised this boy with cerebral palsy as his own. Julio, the boys new father, is a 23 yo carpentry student apprentice who pretty much built their new home on his own, AFTER he cleared the land and massive stone in the middle of their plot, all by hand. As Coco said, Julio is someone you immediately want to help as you know that he will make the most from whatever little you give him.

We then drove to two albergues/refuges; one of which was started by a neighbour who was tired seeing small children playing unsupervised in these streets, and the other which he himself is building to house families from rural Peru who’ve come to city to have their child admitted to the Children’s Hospital. Like Ronald McDonald House, only using HIS own resources and the family home that Coco inherited from his grandmother. Coco is giving families an alternative to living on the pavement outside the hospital. Coco is even working with a Peruvian bus/transport company, to help bring these families to and from, let alone during those sad cases, drive the caskets of these children back to their villages to be buried with their family’s.

As I was immersing myself in Coco’s world, I didn’t know if I should cry from the conditions that too many souls live in, feel ashamed that I’ve often looked past these people, or give him a hug for his life changing gifts he’s given so many. I was reminded of these good souls we’ve all read in Dicken’s novels, those who in the midst of misery, extend their hand of friendship towards safety and a better life. Coco was clearly this, but he seems to have found others within these same communities themselves who equally give what little they have to others. Be it Julio with his new family, or the neighbour who opened her house to the children to feed and shelter them.

But one Dickens-like example which truly stands out is that of an 8 yo Peruvian boy. This boy was the son of a South African mother, who while working in Spain as a prostitute was recruited by the mafia to be a “drug mule”. They flew her to Lima, where she was to pick up a “package”, boarded a next flight back to Spain, and hand over this package. The problem, however, was that she was arrested at the airport in Lima, and sentenced to five years in a local jail. Soon after she was sentenced, however, they realised that she was three months pregnant, forcing her to deliver the baby while she was incarcerated. In Peru, the baby is allowed to stay in jail for the first two years, before they are given to family. But since she had no family in Peru, the option was bleak for this new born. So the mother threw her own son against a brick wall, wanting no part of being a mother to this young infant.

Luckily, the baby was fine. But as the infant was less than two years old, and as there was no family, they had to give the baby back to the incarcerated mother. Rather than seeing her succeed a second time, the other female inmates took her child away and raised him themselves, a foster parent group, albeit a group who themselves were in jail.  They raised this boy safely until he was two, with the mother shunning her baby boy all through this (and sadly, still).

Through my being exposed to all this, what I found amazing was how even in the midst of such poverty and desperation, there are those who refuse to accept and persist to present themselves to others. Their life energy shines brighter than I could ever hope mine would, but have been touched by being present there with these wonderful souls. As Coco says, if everyone just dedicated one day for others, imagine the change we could make? While Coco dedicates more, his point is so clearly visible just by my joining him for one such day.

My day with Coco was truly a life changing day; a lesson that I will not only never forget, but a lesson which I too hope to replicate in my own way. Gracias Coco, gracias.