In the midst of packing, as the days dwindle down, I am also trying to get in my last goodbyes. Of course, the internet makes a goodbye so much easier, less permanent. I remember back to 2001, my first trip to Guinea. Leaving people I'd met then seemed full of uncertainty. Telephones are lost, numbers changed. Even though I managed to maintain email correspondence with some it always felt like they were on the edge of disappearing. And once gone, finding them again an impossibility.
This time around however it is so much more possible to remain in contact with friends, even if just on the fringes of facebook. As I get my last conversations in I feel hopeful- for return visits to Kin, for future collaborations, and for staying in touch.
After Aicha came to help me dismantle and roll up my paintings, I had just one more friend to seek out. I'd saved a painting for him- for the new office he'd told me they'd found- and I was anxious as well to ask some questions about the state of the state. I still had the boy in the road on my mind and I also wanted to know which government minister would be in charge of such things (realizing of course the problem has implications far beyond a government program. But you have to start somewhere, right?)
Ben stopped by on Wednesday afternoon and we launched easily into one of our long discussions. I'd almost forgotten how good it feels to talk with him. He is intelligent and thoughtful and full of direction. And very hard to read. All qualities that have left me feeling, at various times, hopeful, inspired and woefully inadequate. Stagnant and action-less.
But on this day I felt hopeful. I remarked on the ways he'd grown, more confident, more connected and more sure of his purpose. He updated me on the progress of his organization and how he was ready to step aside in November- hold elections for a new leader. As a founding member he'd been with the group since its inception and had worked hard to help it grow to this point. He told me more about the various projects they'd begun and the areas of social development they were working on.
One of the newer projects involved 4 orphanages around the city. They were working to provide regular food donations, tutoring in French and basic studies to get the kids school ready and computers with internet access- and classes to learn. They'd helped the kids to organize themselves into a form of government, the older ones being responsible for the younger. Representatives responsible for speaking out and standing up for the rest. They'd given out cell phones to those most in charge so they could connect with peers in the other orphanages-form some sort of social support network. Rely on each other as they grew.
He told me also of some of the complications that arose with adoption, which had been one of the results of the organization's fundraising and awareness efforts. Increased adoptions = increased numbers of Congolese children leaving the country. For many there appears to be a fine line between the costs of adoption and simply selling children. The organization became aware of children being stolen from the village areas and brought into the city to be sold. It can be hard to see the difference, I think, from the midst of poverty and corruption. There had been several news items in the last few months alluding to similar issues.
This one read a bit differently in the newspapers here. The on-line article makes her sound guilty of something while the printed reports suggested a lot more legality in the process and a lot less transparency by the courts. Apparently the girl had been legally adopted for years and no one was quite sure where the outrage and questions were suddenly coming from. Lack of proper pay-offs it was surmised. There is no end to the
frustrations and delays involved with adopting- Italy even
sent a plane to retrieve children adopted by Italian parents. In the end, both Ben and I recognized a myriad of complications involved with adoptions as a main objective. He stated that the goal of his group was to be able to provide children with the same advantages that other Congolese children have- hence the concentration on food, education and access to a support network.
While Ben's group focuses on children in orphanages, I began to steer the conversation towards the plight of street children. Another complex and challenging issue. Orphanages are places where the kids live. Street children, on the other hand, often frequent day centers for a meal or a reprieve but they return to the streets- sometimes preferring the freedom and lack of rules that life offers. After years on their own, structure can be hard to handle. Trust is probably another issue they grapple with. And for many, I imagine though have never confirmed, being thrust back into the church - as orphanages and day centers are often beneficiaries of church charity groups and have members come in to preach to kids- a confusing and potentially terrifying experience. Especially for those whose families have tossed them out on advice from pastors or who have themselves been victims of abuses performed in the name of exorcism. Any intervention must include a component on family education and consequences for pastors. The research available on this seems
inexhaustible. Every major NGO has conducted a study and written a report from
UNICEF to
Save the Children to
Human Rights Watch. While everyone seems to recognize the problems and identify steps towards solutions, the process is agonizingly slow. And much too late for many of the kids already on the street. Like the boy I saw in the road.
I shared my story with Ben - the first time I'd actually put spoken words to it. I shared my shame and indecision and regret. " Was it over by the military camp? By Avenue 24 November?" he asked me shortly after I began. "No. No it was out by Ndjili, " I told him.
And then he shared his own story. Of a girl in the road that very same morning. Early on Sunday he'd received a call. Ben has become something of a go-to guy for citizens around the city. When they don't know what to do, they call him. A woman had called around 6 in the morning to say there was a child in the street. Ben arrived shortly after and found that she was dead. Also a victim of being hit in the night by a car. He took some photos, arranged some branches and leaves in the road- the Congolese version of flares or orange cones- to alert travelers to proceed with caution and called someone from the Red Cross. Ahhh.....so there are the missing steps. The things I could have done for the boy I saw in the road, 40 km away and an hour earlier.
When the Red Cross guy showed up the police wouldn't let him remove the body. They insisted on having a form from some official department or other. "It's Sunday," Ben reasoned. "No one is open today. Are you going to leave her here until Monday?" In the end, they accepted formal Red Cross identification and let the man take the girl away. A day or so later Ben received another call requesting payment for the hospital and morgue services. He'd been working with his group to arrange a funeral, had prepared some words and a photo of the girl. But the payment and the burial he felt were the responsibility of the state.
He was so matter of fact and so competent in his handling of the entire affaire. I tried to imagine looking at a dead child in the street and taking pictures. Arranging branches. Checking a pulse. I want to be the person who could take charge in such a way. But I am not there yet. At least now I have a better idea about what to do next time. Ben assured me my intentions were what counted. I tried to grab onto that feeble statement- it's written in all the Good Books that God or Allah or Jehovah sees inside our hearts and minds and those are the ideas that count. But the child didn't really need intentions. He needed action. He deserved a funeral just as the girl in the road is receiving. An acknowledgement of a life lived, however short, however difficult and filled with suffering it might have been.
As our talk turned to civic education and the related painting I wanted to present, I realized how much I am still learning about how to live in Africa, how to be a better person, and how to take real, meaningful action. Several people have accused me of being brave in the last month or so. I don't think I am really there yet, but I certainly aspire to be there. Soon.
