Try to imagine that you are a young child whose cares are very few. Your days are filled with going to school or playing games of imagination with the other children in your neighborhood. Your mom calls you in way to early for dinner and to start working on your homework. You go because you know that is what is expected of you – but mostly because you want to make your mom proud.
It is okay that you have never known your father because your mother has more than enough love to go around. Sometimes she is sick, and when she is you do your best to help out. One time you caught her pretending that she had already taken her dinner when there wasn’t enough food to go around. You tried to share a bite of yours with her but she said she was full. You love her more than words can say and the words do go unspoken. But it is okay because the silence between a mother’s heart and that of her child speaks volumes and you know that you are loved.
One day you come home from school and your world turns completely upside down. All of the neighbors are outside of your home. One of them tells you that your mother has died. You cry out in disbelief, she was there this morning, she wouldn’t leave you, and she loves you too much. But it is true; the house is empty when you walk in. Suddenly you find that your life is filled with worry and responsibility for your younger siblings. You ache so much for your mom that you don’t know how you can go on living much less take care of three children. You are just a child yourself who still needs a mothers love. When is she coming home?
You have no other family to speak of. You suspect that your mothers family is still alive but they rejected her when they found out she was HIV+ for bring shame upon them. They never even met you or your brother and sisters. You pray that they will come for her funeral. That they will come for you and you can be a family again. But only the neighbors gather for her burial.
Without your mother working you are no longer able to pay rent. You worry that you are going to be kicked out of the wooden shed that you call home. The landlord lets you stay because he said that liked your mom. You secretly hope and pray that he doesn’t come in the middle night looking for payment of a different kind.
You do not have money for food, so you depend on the kindness of neighbors. But they don’t have enough to feed their own families. They share with you when they can. But it is not often. When they do, you feel like you are a burden to your community. You ache in so many ways when your younger brother and sisters must go to bed hungry because you know what they don’t – that there is nothing to feed them when the sun rises. You are angry sometimes because you think if your mom would not have left you, you would have food. You miss her and you want her to come back. You want to play with your friends again and not have to worry about pressing the others uniforms before the sun comes up or where the next bit of food is going to come from.
Your schools fees have been paid through the end of the term, but you do not know what you will do after that. You think you will have to find some kind of work to pay your school fees and get some food. But if you work you won’t have time to go to school. You push it to the back of your mind and try to think only about what you can do right now. You want to do your homework but you are tired and there is no kerosene or paraffin left. You can not see to read. Your math book and English book is filled so there is no more room to write. You know it means you will get caned when you get to school because you did not do your work.
You find yourself thinking that maybe leaving school won't be such a bad thing, because it really isn’t a fun place to be anymore. Some of your classmates reject you because they suspect that your mother had AIDS and you may have it too. But what hurts the most is when kids you thought were your friends reject or embarrass you because you are an orphan. They can not see that you need a friend now more than ever.
The landlord who had been letting you live in the house for free has come on hard times. He has sold the land. The new owner comes to tell you that you must pay 3000 shillings ($45 US) a month or be out of the structure in twelve days. You have no money and you have no place to go all you can do is worry. You send your siblings off to school everyday but you do not go. You are afraid if you leave the house unattended. Afraid that doing so the new owner will come and put a padlock on the door. If that happened you will lose everything. You have so very little to lose, but it is everything you own. Everything that you have left of your mother is inside of that house. The happy memories of when you were a family reside here. How can you possibly leave? Where can you possibly go? You know if God doesn’t answer your prayers soon you and your little brother and sisters will join the thousands of kids already living on the streets.
You are thirteen years old. You do not know you are living the life of thousands of other Kenyan children. You only know you feel helpless. You are hungry. You are scared. You are alone. You miss your mothers love.
It is okay that you have never known your father because your mother has more than enough love to go around. Sometimes she is sick, and when she is you do your best to help out. One time you caught her pretending that she had already taken her dinner when there wasn’t enough food to go around. You tried to share a bite of yours with her but she said she was full. You love her more than words can say and the words do go unspoken. But it is okay because the silence between a mother’s heart and that of her child speaks volumes and you know that you are loved.
One day you come home from school and your world turns completely upside down. All of the neighbors are outside of your home. One of them tells you that your mother has died. You cry out in disbelief, she was there this morning, she wouldn’t leave you, and she loves you too much. But it is true; the house is empty when you walk in. Suddenly you find that your life is filled with worry and responsibility for your younger siblings. You ache so much for your mom that you don’t know how you can go on living much less take care of three children. You are just a child yourself who still needs a mothers love. When is she coming home?
You have no other family to speak of. You suspect that your mothers family is still alive but they rejected her when they found out she was HIV+ for bring shame upon them. They never even met you or your brother and sisters. You pray that they will come for her funeral. That they will come for you and you can be a family again. But only the neighbors gather for her burial.
Without your mother working you are no longer able to pay rent. You worry that you are going to be kicked out of the wooden shed that you call home. The landlord lets you stay because he said that liked your mom. You secretly hope and pray that he doesn’t come in the middle night looking for payment of a different kind.
You do not have money for food, so you depend on the kindness of neighbors. But they don’t have enough to feed their own families. They share with you when they can. But it is not often. When they do, you feel like you are a burden to your community. You ache in so many ways when your younger brother and sisters must go to bed hungry because you know what they don’t – that there is nothing to feed them when the sun rises. You are angry sometimes because you think if your mom would not have left you, you would have food. You miss her and you want her to come back. You want to play with your friends again and not have to worry about pressing the others uniforms before the sun comes up or where the next bit of food is going to come from.
Your schools fees have been paid through the end of the term, but you do not know what you will do after that. You think you will have to find some kind of work to pay your school fees and get some food. But if you work you won’t have time to go to school. You push it to the back of your mind and try to think only about what you can do right now. You want to do your homework but you are tired and there is no kerosene or paraffin left. You can not see to read. Your math book and English book is filled so there is no more room to write. You know it means you will get caned when you get to school because you did not do your work.
You find yourself thinking that maybe leaving school won't be such a bad thing, because it really isn’t a fun place to be anymore. Some of your classmates reject you because they suspect that your mother had AIDS and you may have it too. But what hurts the most is when kids you thought were your friends reject or embarrass you because you are an orphan. They can not see that you need a friend now more than ever.
The landlord who had been letting you live in the house for free has come on hard times. He has sold the land. The new owner comes to tell you that you must pay 3000 shillings ($45 US) a month or be out of the structure in twelve days. You have no money and you have no place to go all you can do is worry. You send your siblings off to school everyday but you do not go. You are afraid if you leave the house unattended. Afraid that doing so the new owner will come and put a padlock on the door. If that happened you will lose everything. You have so very little to lose, but it is everything you own. Everything that you have left of your mother is inside of that house. The happy memories of when you were a family reside here. How can you possibly leave? Where can you possibly go? You know if God doesn’t answer your prayers soon you and your little brother and sisters will join the thousands of kids already living on the streets.
You are thirteen years old. You do not know you are living the life of thousands of other Kenyan children. You only know you feel helpless. You are hungry. You are scared. You are alone. You miss your mothers love.
2 comments:
That was really heavy, but insightful. How sad that kids (and adults) here in America think we have it rough. We have no idea.
As a school teacher, this breaks my heart. We take so much for granted. Thanks Pete for sharing this with us all.
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