Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: WEDNESDAY, March 18, 1992 TAG: 9203180092
SECTION: VIRGINIA PAGE: B1 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: Ed Shamy
DATELINE: LENGTH: Medium
It is.
Roanoke County police charged Roanoke psychiatrist William Gray a couple of weeks ago in the sexual molestation of one of his patients. The state Board of Medicine then stripped Gray of his license to practice psychiatry.
Dr. William Gray is in trouble. The ripples were felt quickly in the Roanoke Valley, where hundreds of his patients were left without psychiatric care. But the monstrous charges against Gray have dramatic implications far beyond the mountains that ring our valley. Across the equator, into the Amazon basin, in the lowlands of northern Peru, Luis Alvarado is praying that William Gray is not guilty.
Since 1985, when he founded an orphanage near Iquitos, Peru, Gray has been virtually the only benefactor of the home. Monthly, he writes a check for $1,500, sometimes more, and mails it to Luis Alvarado.
"We use [Gray's money] for food, for school supplies and for medicine," says Alvarado, a Baptist minister and the administrator of the orphanage.
There are no other sources. The church, the state and private individuals may chip in some fish or some meat, clothing or medicine from time to time, but only rarely.
"I've tried to establish sources here, but I basically have done it all myself," says Gray.
Alvarado plans to write a letter to Gray, to ask about the situation. It would be a rare communication.
The two men have met but twice.
"He has never lived with us," says Alvarado. "He came here last in January of 1988."
"We're not in regular contact," said Gray. "If there's a problem, they'll send me a letter or a fax. They keep me updated once or twice a year."
Gray doesn't speak much Spanish; Alvarado doesn't speak English. That's a major obstacle.
But the charges against Gray are universally repugnant. They cut across cultural and language barriers. Alvarado - who was unaware of the charges until he and I spoke by phone - gasped a quick breath when told. He moved quickly to counter any doubts about the orphanage.
"Everything here conforms to the law," says Alvarado. "You or anyone can come here to see for yourself."
The orphanage is about 18 miles up the Itaya River from Iquitos, which sits at the confluence of the Amazon and the Itaya. The home is most easily accessible by boat. It has no phone.
Iquitos is a boom city or a bust city. It boomed with the rubber trade, then busted. It boomed with oil exploration, then busted. It boomed with tourism. Now, with the threat of cholera, of the violent Sendero Luminoso guerrillas, and of crime, that too has busted.
"There are mountains of children on the streets of Iquitos," says Alvarado. "I was raised in an orphanage; that's why I have a special interest in these children."
Juvenile court judges order homeless children to the orphanage, and about 50 - most of them boys - live there now.
Alvarado said boys are easiest to work with - they contribute more easily to the physical needs of the orphanage such as construction, gardening and fishing.
There are three teachers, two cooks and an administrator at the orphanage.
Classes are scheduled to open April 1 after summer recess ends - the Southern Hemisphere's seasons are opposite ours - though Alvarado is not sure what to do now.
All of the orphanage's children attend classes, and the idea of the home is to prepare them for re-entry to life in Iquitos.
"We've had young men leave here and go to college," said Alvarado.
Until they come of age or a family member reclaims them, the children don't move from the orphanage.
"We don't look for homes. The financial situation in Iquitos is very dire, there's no one here to take them," said Alvarado.
So bad is the economy, Alvarado doesn't even toy with the idea of life without William Gray.
"Undoubtedly, without his help, we would have to close," said Alvarado.
Gray says funding the orphanage is "pretty high up on my list of priorities."
But, he concedes, the charges against him and the stripping of his license have severely cut into his income.
"There'll be a check next month," said Gray. "When I write them and tell them it'll have to close, I'll give them a couple of months' notice."
"The future of the place depends on my future, I guess," he said.
That's precisely what's worrying Luis Alvarado.
by CNB