A baby learns not to cry when she has known neglect. She knows no one is coming. Her cries go unheard. Her pain is silent.
A child learns not to cry when he has known abuse. He knows crying brings more pain. His cries go unheard. His pain is silent.
In Bangladesh, 84% of the population live on less than $2 US a day. Extreme poverty is an everyday reality for millions.
Child neglect is not a priority area in Bangladesh at the moment. Not when there is so much still to be done to protect a child’s basic rights.
Children in Bangladesh know hardship that I can imagine but never really know. A tiny, naked child wandering about, alone in the street, without a parent to protect him in sight, is almost something I expect to see daily. But yesterday when I saw a little boy sitting on the side of the road crying, my heart broke into a million tiny pieces. His tears made a glistening path down his dirt-smeared little face, his eyes betraying his age. I wanted to pick him up, in his bright orange trousers and grubby pale blue t-shirt, cradle him in my arms and tell him everything will be okay. But it’s not, is it? It’s not at all. His life is never going to offer him what mine has given me. His cries reach into your very soul and awaken your motivation, your drive, your need to DO SOMETHING.
When a child cries in Bangladesh you know that something more horrible than the absolute struggle of everyday life has pushed him over the edge.
When a child cries he should not go unheard. His pain should not be silent.
Saturday, January 17, 2009
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
Learning to smile
Sharmine’s story
Sharmine can’t look at you when she tells her story. Her eyes dart around the room and she fidgets with her bracelet. Sharmine has known such brutality in her nine years that even now, in a place where she is loved and cared for, she is cautious.
When Sharmine smiles the whole room lights up and you know that smiling isn’t something she did a lot of until recently. Sharmine only moved to the girls drop-in centre in February and she’s obviously still learning to smile.
When she was only one year old, Sharmine’s parents separated. Both her parents remarried and Sharmine lived with her father and step-mother.
Sharmine looks tiny in her chair...much smaller than other nine-year-olds. As she tells her story, I realise this is because she has suffered horrible neglect and physical abuse – both at home and where she was forced to work as a maid.
“I was too small to work. It was hard for me to clean and cook. I was so hungry because I wasn’t fed properly at home and would sometimes steal food. I knew it was bad but I had to eat. They would beat me even when I wasn’t stealing food,” Sharmine said.
“One day I could see my grandmother begging on the street but I couldn’t go and help her because I was locked inside the house.”
Sharmine and her grandmother escaped Barisal for Dhaka and were begging on the streets when Shilpi from the girls’ drop-in centre saw them.
“Shilpi told me about all the facilities here – soap to wash, food, my own locker, formal school. I’ve learnt to read and write here. I can write my name and the names of my parents. I’ve learnt about child rights, trafficking and early marriage.”
A beautiful, fragile girl, Sharmine’s scars aren’t all emotional. By her left eye is a scar she’ll always carry – a permanent reminder of her step-mother and a life she is determined to escape.
Jamal’s story
Jamal’s eyes tell a thousand stories. When he looks at you, suffering and survival stare back. Only 16-years-old, Jamal has experienced so much in his life. When Jamal was just 11 his father died. To help support his family Jamal was forced to work and severely beaten if he didn’t.
To escape the abuse he was facing at home, 13-year-old Jamal jumped on a bus to Dhaka. Lost in a big city and with no one to help him, Jamal found himself in New Market working with other street children as a taxi porter and selling whatever he could. He would work all day and make little money because shop keepers exploited him and accused him of stealing.
Jamal knew that education would help change his life so started attending an open-air school in New Market. It was there that Jamal heard about the Mirpur Boys Club (another Aparajeyo centre) and he started vocational training (wood work).
“I grew up too fast,” Jamal said. “I didn’t want to stay living on the streets. I wanted a better life. When I heard about this place I asked to join the house and stay”.
Jamal lives at the drop-in centre with 47 other boys aged from 8 to 18 years old. It is clear that the younger boys adore Jamal. He is genuine, affectionate and much more mature than his 16 years.
Jamal’s ambition is to empower other children. He is a Peer Educator at the centre and works as a Youth Motivator at the Youth Partnership Project.
“I was disadvantaged so I want to use my experiences to help other disadvantaged children. I want to help protect them so they can have a better life too.
“I had no value living in the street. Now, living here, I strongly believe that I have value. I feel respected here. All the children feel valued and love each other. We’ve all been given the opportunity to change our lives.”
As I leave the boys centre, Jamal is organising a sing-along. Little Mafuse stands up in front of the rest of the boys and sings a Hindi song. The happiness in the room is almost tangible; all the boys are clapping their hands and beaming with pride.
Sharmine can’t look at you when she tells her story. Her eyes dart around the room and she fidgets with her bracelet. Sharmine has known such brutality in her nine years that even now, in a place where she is loved and cared for, she is cautious.
When Sharmine smiles the whole room lights up and you know that smiling isn’t something she did a lot of until recently. Sharmine only moved to the girls drop-in centre in February and she’s obviously still learning to smile.
When she was only one year old, Sharmine’s parents separated. Both her parents remarried and Sharmine lived with her father and step-mother.
Sharmine looks tiny in her chair...much smaller than other nine-year-olds. As she tells her story, I realise this is because she has suffered horrible neglect and physical abuse – both at home and where she was forced to work as a maid.
“I was too small to work. It was hard for me to clean and cook. I was so hungry because I wasn’t fed properly at home and would sometimes steal food. I knew it was bad but I had to eat. They would beat me even when I wasn’t stealing food,” Sharmine said.
“One day I could see my grandmother begging on the street but I couldn’t go and help her because I was locked inside the house.”
Sharmine and her grandmother escaped Barisal for Dhaka and were begging on the streets when Shilpi from the girls’ drop-in centre saw them.
“Shilpi told me about all the facilities here – soap to wash, food, my own locker, formal school. I’ve learnt to read and write here. I can write my name and the names of my parents. I’ve learnt about child rights, trafficking and early marriage.”
A beautiful, fragile girl, Sharmine’s scars aren’t all emotional. By her left eye is a scar she’ll always carry – a permanent reminder of her step-mother and a life she is determined to escape.
Jamal’s story
Jamal’s eyes tell a thousand stories. When he looks at you, suffering and survival stare back. Only 16-years-old, Jamal has experienced so much in his life. When Jamal was just 11 his father died. To help support his family Jamal was forced to work and severely beaten if he didn’t.
To escape the abuse he was facing at home, 13-year-old Jamal jumped on a bus to Dhaka. Lost in a big city and with no one to help him, Jamal found himself in New Market working with other street children as a taxi porter and selling whatever he could. He would work all day and make little money because shop keepers exploited him and accused him of stealing.
Jamal knew that education would help change his life so started attending an open-air school in New Market. It was there that Jamal heard about the Mirpur Boys Club (another Aparajeyo centre) and he started vocational training (wood work).
“I grew up too fast,” Jamal said. “I didn’t want to stay living on the streets. I wanted a better life. When I heard about this place I asked to join the house and stay”.
Jamal lives at the drop-in centre with 47 other boys aged from 8 to 18 years old. It is clear that the younger boys adore Jamal. He is genuine, affectionate and much more mature than his 16 years.
Jamal’s ambition is to empower other children. He is a Peer Educator at the centre and works as a Youth Motivator at the Youth Partnership Project.
“I was disadvantaged so I want to use my experiences to help other disadvantaged children. I want to help protect them so they can have a better life too.
“I had no value living in the street. Now, living here, I strongly believe that I have value. I feel respected here. All the children feel valued and love each other. We’ve all been given the opportunity to change our lives.”
As I leave the boys centre, Jamal is organising a sing-along. Little Mafuse stands up in front of the rest of the boys and sings a Hindi song. The happiness in the room is almost tangible; all the boys are clapping their hands and beaming with pride.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
