I brought them hotdogs and they asked for water. Bringing food to Kazadi several times a day- as one must do with the hospitals here- has me driving up and down the boulevard a lot. I've decided I can no longer continue to drive past the children sitting in the middle of the road just by Mercedes Circle. They are there all day and night begging handouts from the cars who stop at the newly installed red light. Reminiscing about this post, I have since become determined to drive with sandwiches, maybe an occasional chicken and now- water. Because while I've been busy fretting that they are hungry, I never considered their thirst.
For my second trip downtown, I loaded the car with bottled water and a few hard boiled eggs. The boys know me now and ran over to my car (as I held my breath while they dodged traffic getting there. I'll be honing up on my Lingala for "look both ways" and "don't rush, I'll wait for you.") I let them know it was only water this time and they seemed as happy as if I were giving them gold.
Later on that night, (my third trip down to pick up a stranded Ousmane) the kids surrounded my car with happy thumbs up. As I relayed the story to Ousmane, wondering now-as always- where they will sleep, he appeared incredulous. They will go home.
We had a quick conversation about child sorcerers and how many kids have been thrown out of their houses. They have nowhere to return to. Ousmane made me tell the story again so he could try to understand. As if there could be any comprehension. Kin is a wild, wild place.
It was at the very same infamous stop light that we had just witnessed a near robbery. A guy on the street tried to grab the bag off a motorcyclist. He was pulling hard and running along behind it as the motorcyclist took off. Luckily, the biker got away without being pulled off his moto or swerving into traffic. One of the small boys had huddled close to my car as he turned in amazement (and fear?) to watch the spectacle.
But I remain steadfast in my belief that not all the street kids have been so swayed. I have had the chance to meet Gene, who is a bit older than my new friends at Mercedes Circle. Gene hangs out by the hospital. He "parks cars" -something many young boys do in hopes of earning a few franc for "watching the car" while you shop. I have seen him occasionally before because the hospital happens to be just across from one my favorite stores. Now we have been formally introduced.
I don't really know what I can do for Gene so, for the moment, we are stuck at spare francs and a handshake. Improving my Lingala would certainly go a long way towards communication. I wonder how Gene spends his nights. And while I realize I haven't really made any lasting difference, sometimes I think calling someone by name and offering a bit of respect is a beginning. Who knows where it will lead.....praying for guidance on this one.
