K Ela
“Tell me not to forget/The tears of a child/ don’t know what makes up tears,/Its more than water./With the scars of the heart and the wounds of life,/Tears just increase,/But the tears from a child is just unbearable/Because they are not meant for it./The tears that roll down the cheek of a child/Will fall on the ground,/But the earth will never be able to absorb/For it comes from someone who is not supposed to be”/…(.Him Red Lam Law)
“Why don’t you go home instead of sleeping on the cold and dirty streets?” “I don’t want to go home”. “Why?” “My parents keep drinking. They quarrel and fight everyday. I cannot do anything to stop them, if I try, I am beaten. I would only cry and watch them helplessly as if I am watching a movie”. Why like a movie? “I cannot touch them. I can hear them but they cannot hear me. I helplessly cry and watch….”.
Mr.X (about 14yrs) is a Naga boy living on and off the streets of Dimapur for more than ten years (he said). “I have never been to school”. He landed on the streets after he ran away from home. He has been collecting ‘loha, tina, empty bottles and plastics’ from the streets and dumping places and sells them for his daily food and his dose of ‘dendrite’. On a normal day he earns between rupees 50 to 100.He spends more on his dendrite than on his food.
He disclosed, ‘Many of my friends visits sex workers .I know where they stay, hang around and where they entertain their clients”. He replied in the negative when asked if he had ever visited them. Given the kind of environment he is living in and the kind of crowd he is mingling with, a disturbing thought crossed my mind, ‘how long before he too goes visiting?’ He said that ‘sisters’(as they fondly refer to the P.H. ORWs working with them) told him about HIV/AIDS and how it is transmitted so he does not do what his friends are doing. How difficult it must be, not to be swayed by ‘friends’ thought I, and could only wish and pray that he grows up healthy and free of HIV/AIDS.
As winter is approaching, I asked him how he manages to brave the wintry cold, especially the nights. He replied that they have an old blanket given by a shopkeeper and sleep huddled as close as possible. ‘But, the blanket is not big enough for all of us(his small circle of friends) so we make fires to keep ourselves warm till late in the night around 12pm”.He said one has to be “chalak”to survive on the streets of Dimapur. He recounted night life in the streets of Dimapur is tough. He often see fights, thefts, extortions, people drinking and doing drugs’ and many other unsightly things. “Often we are threatened and beaten by bigger boys and drunken and drugged youths who also extort the little money we have. That’s why we have to spend everything that we earn” he recollected. He continued and said that he had to get up as early as possible or else, he stated, ‘other children will collect all the loha, tina and plastics and I will be left with none. It is also difficult to sleep when others starts getting up and start their daily chores as we sleep in the pavements and streets”. A day without any collection means he had to go hungry and sleep on empty stomach. Or the only option is to steal!
As I sat there, with hundreds of thoughts going on in my mind, I wondered aloud what Christmas means to him. He said that in the previous year, he went along with some friends to churches that served Christmas feasts. “Don’t you feel shy going to church with your dirty and shabby clothes when everyone is dressed in their best Christmas clothes?’ “I sell gas balloons a week ahead of Christmas and with the money I buy new Christmas clothes. We put on these new clothes so it is ok”. What about you’re other friends? Do they also earn much and buy new clothes kike you? Most of my other friends are lazy so they either steal or do without new clothes”.
He also happily went on to narrate about a Christmas carol group they once joined .Though they didn’t know anyone from among the caroling group, but since they their faces were masked (Santa Clause mask) the other children didn’t know that they were street children who collect loha, tina, plastics and empty bottles ! In the same breath he said “once we swept and cleaned a church’s compound. We felt very happy”. Why? “Because I was sure that my sins would be cut off!” (amilaka pap kati dibole) What sins? I asked. ‘Sometimes I steal; sometimes I fight and beat up smaller boys…is this not wrong? Is this not sin? And there are other sins but I won’t tell you”.
I could not help but think of their desire to ‘belong’ to be ‘accepted’. He doesn’t want to do ‘wrong’ and wants to be forgiven of his ‘sin’. They had put on masks to hide their faces, ashamed of what they are! Who they are! Can they live in dignity? Can they grow up proud to be what they are? Their simplicity in the belief that ‘God’ resides in the church and is ready to forgive them if they do something for the church…makes me to think of the shallowness and superficiality of many of us so called Christians, who religiously go to church every Sunday.. I guess without a grain of faith…I am humbled my dear boy…
Would you go home for good if your parents stop drinking and are together again? “No I will not!” he promptly replied. Why? “Nothing. Just like that”. Truth hurts. The pain has gone deep. He tried not to show how much he is hurting, he puts on a brave smile, it took him months to tell where it hurt most!(months of interaction and questioning could not made him to tell the team, I was told). “Their drinking is not the only problem. Their fighting is what I cannot bear. They fight even in their hearts”. How do you know that ? “Mother is always talking bad of my father to me, and father also talks bad about my mother”. He asked, “Whose side shall I take? Whom shall I believe?”. He then bowed his head and whispered, “They are my parents and I love them. But if they go on fighting and quarreling what is I do? I will never go home so long as the fight continues!” Words failed me. I can only sit there and read his fears and insecurities of living in ‘such a family, in such a home?’. “It is better off living on the streets with friends who accepts me. We have fun together”.
What/who pushes a child to run away/stay away from home (or house?).?Why do children seek for attention and love and acceptance elsewhere and end up in the wrong places with the wrong crowd and doing the wrong thing? So many children have become casualties of war between parents! Broken homes, broken families, wrong parenting, what are we to do? Whose responsibility is it to mend broken homes, counsel an abusive father and guide back an errant mother? Where does one go with such problems? Whom does one run to for help?
I believe there are many boys and girls like this boy lost in the streets and the so called cold and unfeeling structure called HOUSES, searching and yearning for a HOME where parents love and respect each other; a HOME where he/she is accepted and loved.
“Children learn what they live. If a child lives with hostility, he learns to fight. If a child lives with shame, he learns to feel guilty. If a child lives with tolerance, he learns to be patient. If a child lives with encouragement, he learns confidence. If a child lives with praise, he learns to appreciate. If a child lives with fairness, he learns justice. If a child lives with security, he learns to have faith. If a child lives with approval, he learns to like himself. If a child lives with acceptance and friendship, he learns to find love in the world”. (Dorothy Law Nolte)
The writer is the Deputy Director, Prodigals’ Home
