Silent cries

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.