Survivors

May 18, 2013 1:03 AM

Street Children - Can you look them in the eye?
posted by Gyan (7 comments total)

Good article - he relates some very personal stuff in the second half, as a First World parent.
posted by Harald74 at 2:24 AM on May 18, 2013 [1 favorite]

Well written and quite thought out. Passing this one on to lots of people.
posted by artof.mulata at 2:46 AM on May 18, 2013 [1 favorite]

This was a terrific piece. Thoughtful, honest, no bromides or easy fixes, not the tempting hardening, or exorcism of individual human stories through statistical, economic, political lenses.

Thank you so much for posting it.
posted by smoke at 4:39 AM on May 18, 2013 [1 favorite]

Viviane Moos is wrapping up her succesful kickstarter project Brazilian Street Diary - Street Children Survivors of Rio.
posted by adamvasco at 6:50 AM on May 18, 2013 [1 favorite]

When I was in Mombasa, Kenya, I spent a week at the Wema Centre, a truly amazing organization that works to rehabilitate street kids, house many of them, and provide them with education and vocational skills. I've never met a more interesting group of people than the adults working with these kids, many of whom were former street children themselves.
posted by ChuraChura at 7:19 AM on May 18, 2013 [4 favorites]

Just took the breath out of my lungs. How does it go again -- whatever you did not do for the least of these, you did not do for me? Well.

More often than not, street children have been stripped of any sense of themselves, of their own uniqueness and significance. Like the boy with the battered headphones in Mali, they cling to any object that might yet give them a modicum of dignity or meaning in the eyes of others.

These objects can become almost talismanic: a found bracelet, a lucky plastic spoon, or a crinkled photograph are all possible proof of a continued shared humanity. When the connection to others is irredeemably lost, there is little for street children to hold onto.

As someone who has only been skipped across the surface of true poverty like a flat stone across a pond, I don't feel right responding to things like this with any variation of "Man, I know how THAT is!" All I can do is clumsily relate to the underlying sentiment, in a terribly distant and lucky way. I've been living in relative opulence for almost six years, but I still feel like home is wherever I can store whatever I have gathered. The concepts of "stuff" and "ownership" continue to carry a significance that borders on holy. I still have nearly all of the arbitrarily talismanic objects I plucked from trash bags and paid for with scrounged quarters at rummage sales when I was growing up, save the ones that were specifically taken away (shout out to my cracked yellow drinking cup and collection of Maruchan ramen faces). I still keep them close to me.

When your world is in continual flux, everything keeps getting taken away from you, you're not sure when or if you'll get to eat again, and you're not sure where or if you're going to sleep tonight, any object can gain inexpressible significance and importance so long as you can manage to continue to hang onto it. It was absolutely gutting to read the author's observation that the young Turkish girl's orange cloth was still on the ground when she was nowhere in sight -- I can't imagine what would have compelled her to leave it there willingly.

I really appreciate the work Mr. Faccini has done to raise awareness on this issue, especially when it comes to planting the seeds of compassion and comprehension in 'first world' children. Empathy is forever in short supply. I wish the world had a heart that could break. Thanks for posting this.
posted by divined by radio at 9:28 AM on May 18, 2013 [8 favorites]

Thanks for posting this. In San Francisco my children went to school with a little girl who'se family lived on the street. She did not look like she lived on the street. She was well kept and an Honor Roll student.
Her parents by contrast were a bit different. Her mother had dreads and facial hair, her father also had dreads, he had less facial hair than the mother. I know they loved her. They picked her up every day from school.
Other than a family resemblance between her, her White mother and her Black father you would never guess they shared a life, and were family.
I sometimes did special presentations for the children. She asked really excellent, well thought out questions. I hope that the love her family shared and their obvious solidarity helped her in the long run and that she's alright wherever she ended up.
posted by Katjusa Roquette at 10:34 AM on May 18, 2013 [2 favorites]