I can’t stop thinking about Margaret. I met her on the streets of Kisumu. We had been looking for some streetboys we met last year and were sitting talking with a new group of boys between the ages of 10-14. They were filthy dirty, sucking on glue bottles, begging for us to go to the store and buy them bread. It is always so hard to handle the begging. You want to give them whatever they ask for, but you also know that just filling their tummies for a moment won’t fill their hearts with what they really need. I hugged each one and told them we would get them bread. I am pretty much a pushover for streetboys.
A friend who was with me (a former streetboy himself) nudged me and said “that one is a girl”. I may not have noticed since her head was shaved and she looked just like all the other boys. I have been around streetkids enough to know that girls often try to look just like the boys so they don’t stand out on the streets. Girls don’t fare well living on the streets. They usually don’t last long, but get taken in by traffickers, or locals who use them for household help or as sex slaves. No wonder she tried to look like a boy.
I knelt down beside her and having my friend translate I asked her name. She said it was Margaret and that she was 10 years old. We later learned that she was 13 but I would have believed 10. She looked young and scared. The streetboys around her started telling me that she had a baby and it was stolen from her. With my translator’s help, I learned that she had delivered a baby 2 months before and that somehow it was gone now. I didn’t know what to think but I knew she was alone on the streets with hundreds of young streetboys alone. I asked if she wanted help to get off the streets and she immediately shook her head yes. We quickly walked her across the street where our group waited eating dinner. She sat at the table eating quickly, barely looking up and smiling shyly when she did. We began to learn a little more as we sat with her but not really enough of the story to understand what had happened to bring her to the streets, alone, without her baby.
I began to make phone calls to everyone we knew in town who worked with streetkids. I quickly learned the tragic reality that there was not ONE program in Kisumu that would take in a streetgirl that night. There were very few that worked with girls at all and those that did only saw them in the daytime and had no program for emergency rescue or even a nightime program to keep them off the streets. With thousands of children living on the streets of Kisumu, I KNOW that Margaret is not the only girl out there. The greater and more urgent issue in that moment was what to do with Margaret. Finally our friends at Agape Children’s MInistry in Kisumu, told me that they would call their contacts at the Remand Center and see if she could come on an emergency basis for the night while we figured out what to do with her. The Remand Center is the Kenyan equivalent of Juvenile Hall. It is not a pretty place.
We drove quietly through the night and left her there in the hands of strangers. My heart shattered in a million pieces as we drove away. Not just for Margaret but for all the girls and children who live alone on the streets through no fault of their own. Margaret is a child who was forced to deliver a child. Margaret’s parents are dead and she is alone in the world and now so is her baby.
The amazing group of Kenyan people who work with Agape on their reintegration team have already began to dig into Margaret’s history trying to determine what happened to her baby and to find out all they can about where Margaret came from and if there is anyone in her past life who could help her. We have learned that Margaret is mentally challenged and may not be able to offer them much assistance in this process.
The last thing I heard from the team before leaving Kenya was that Margaret wanted to find her baby. If only there was someone in the world who wanted to find Margaret.
UNTIL THEN is hoping to open an emergency rescue center for girls in Kisumu. If you would like to donate towards this cause, please go to untilthen.org and specifiy “rescue center” on your donation. Thanks!
I am currently in Kenya and always amazed at what God is doing here. Earlier in the week we were saddened to learn that one of the street boys in Kitale was beaten to death on the streets. John had a very close connection to our family and was also one of the boys who was profiled in Phil’s documentary, “Glue Boys“. We were shocked to find out yesterday that he was not dead. As you can imagine, information here is not always accurate. It turns out that he was found on the streets unconscious and was taken by the police and placed with the dead bodies at the government run District Hospital. The hospital personnel were shocked when John actually had breathing movements after being left for dead, so they moved him to a bed. In hospitals here, being in a bed does not mean you get treatment. For that matter, if you saw the filth and conditions in this hospital you would wonder how anyone could ever find healing in this environment. So John languished in a bed for a few days with no food or medical attention until Sammy, a former street kid came to check on him.
Sammy who grew up on these streets put into action the skills he developed as a street boy. His resourcefulness, leadership, and confidence navigated the confusing process of Kenyan medical care to provide John with the medical care he needed to hopefully save his life. The doctor thinks that John was not beaten, but instead is suffering from Meningitis. In addition, Sammy rallied three other former street boys so they could take care of cleaning John’s wounds, assuring his medicine is given timely, feeding him, and turning his body every two hours. If you saw the horrible filth, smelled the stench, and sensed the stare of the others in the hospital who have disdain for street boys, you might understand fully that this was no small task. But there was no complaining, no flinching at the task at hand. There was just a group of street boys surrounding a fellow street boy because they know that John’s life has value. Sadly, outside of the community of street boys, I doubt you could find four people in this town who shared that opinion.
John hopefully will survive. His doctor seems to think so, now that he has $250 worth of medicine. It is a small price to pay for a human life. Especially a life that holds so much promise like the four young men today who once lived on the streets but rose to the level of sainthood in my eyes today.
Written by Dan Hamer
Petition the adhesives industry to add nasal irritant to glue to stop kids from inhaling their products
Two days ago my daughter and I met seven street boys in front of the local market in Kisumu, Kenya who all appeared to be about ten years old. The tallest one told me his name was George Washington and I promptly told him my name was Barack Obama which gave them all a big laugh. We spoke with them a few moments and invited them to the church we are working with that sadly to say is probably the only church in town which would allow street children to attend their services. (We are working hard to educate churches to change that.) As we were leaving a woman driving by shouted, “Don’t talk with them, they will steal from you!” to which George Washington yelled back, “No we won’t!” I am not sure why this woman felt it necessary to further humiliate these boys who are orphaned and alone on the streets, begging for food and rummaging through the dump to survive. Sometimes the voices of an uncaring and heartless society drown out the voices that I am sure these children once heard when their parents were alive that said, “I love you, you are special”. But I am sure it had been a very long time since they heard that message. That’s not the message people like to give to street children as if their life on the streets as beggars is somehow their fault. We said our goodbyes for the evening and Erica and I rejoined our team at the market who were unaware of our meeting with our new friends. As we passed the boys later in our van with the rest of the team they were completely baffled when as we drove by the boys yelled to me “Good bye, Obama” to which I yelled back “Good bye, George Washington.”
On Monday the boys joined us for our program at the little church that is doing big things with street children. It wasn’t long before one of the street boys named Philip was playing the piano in ways that amazed us all. We decided to open our program with Philip at the piano and George Washington and the Young Presidents (as we now affectionately call them!) presenting to us two songs, completely unrehearsed. I have been to a lot of churches and a lot of concerts, but I have never heard music so sweet in all my life. Hidden treasures. Who knew? And yet I am convinced if you scraped away the dirt and grime of all street children you would find hidden treasures. I wished that the woman in the passing car could have heard the angelic voices of the children she was so determined to put down. I wished that everyone who had ever abused and ignored these boys could have let theirs hearts be softened by seeing the purity and innocence in these boys hearts that was released through their music.
I would like to say the story ended nicely, but that only happens in fairy tales. When we looked for the boys later that evening to encourage them to go to the program in town that had agreed to provide them help. we found Philip the pianist alone. He had a rock in his hand and tears were streaming down his face. But not nearly as many as were streaming down our faces as he told us how he tried to stand up for the smallest boy in their group and was picked up by his ears, his clothes torn, and he was beaten by a large man who somehow also felt it was his duty to humiliate street children. The rock in Philip’s hand was his only defense. I am sad to say that when I first saw him I thought it was a bottle of glue. Instead it was the only thing in his life able to protect him. No mother, no father, no Good Samaritan, only a large rock. No child should have to live like that. No civilized society should tolerate it. Until Then exists to change that. Please do your part to help us show the world the hidden treasures that lies in every street kid.
My son, Derek won an award at school this week. This was an award
for Friendship and Leadership on the playground at school. When
they gave Derek this award they said that he was the leader on the
playground. The teacher brought Derek up in front of the school to tell
him that he is kind, plays fair and gives everyone a chance. She talked
about how he takes initiative to start activities and includes everyone
in the games he starts, making sure that everyone gets along and
plays well together. She went so far as to say that if they had behavior
problems before Derek came to their school, they don’t anymore,
because Derek helps everyone work out their problems and makes sure
there is no conflict on the playground. My favorite comment was when
she said that Derek shows respect to everyone he encounters, adults
and children alike. They even had his name engraved on a plaque in the
school office!
Derek spent the first six years of his life in Kitale , Kenya, abandoned by
his birthmother, fighting for survival, protecting his younger brother
and ending up spending years as a streetkid….the lowest rung of the
societal ladder. Derek survived by begging for food, sleeping in a
gunnysack on the dirt and frequently digging through trashbins to find
scraps of discarded food to eat. In Kenya streetkids are called chokara,
which literally means trashdigger….or one who lives in the trash,
because of their need to dig through trash for sustenance. Because we
have ignored, forgotten and abused these kids, society has relegated
them to their life in the trashheaps of our world, not considering them
worthy of our time, resources, energy and love. Treating them as just so
much trash, disposable and worthless.
My son Derek is not worthless. Derek is a leader at his school. In fact,
Derek is THE leader at his school. He just won an award to prove
it. Derek has come into a mostly white, wealthy, highly educated
community and showed the children at his school how to get along.
Regardless of what the world may have thought of him when he lived on
the street, inside of him was actually the same amazing leader who won
the “Leadership” award at his “award winning” school this week. Even
if every streetkid is not a leader, every child has the right to be treated
as a person of value and worth, not as a piece of trash to be used and
disposed of as worthless. It is intolerable that our society allows this. It
is irresponsible that our society allows it. It is not wise that our society
allows this. Streetkids are amazing, resilient, resourceful, creative
humans who were born to be leaders in our world, born to bring joy
to families who can love them, born to be contributing members of
society. We are missing out on an incredible resource for our families,
our communities and our world.
Not every streetkid needs to be adopted into an American family
like Derek to be able to achieve this potential, but EVERY streetkid
deserves to be loved and valued. Every streetkid deserves to be cared
for, nurtured and cherished. Every streetkid has potential inside just
waiting to be given the chance to flourish and grow. There are children
just like Derek on every street of our world, waiting to lead if only
someone would give them a chance. Join Until Then in giving them a
chance to be who they were created to be.