The Children
Tuesday, Aug. 21, 2007
I am unnerved by the children. When we drove into Canhama yesterday afternoon, children from all parts of the village ran to where we parked, swarming around the trucks. They don’t talk to us.
I have to wonder what they think. We drive up and begin to unload plastic containers, multicolored bags and from each container or bag, we pull out assorted things—tents: total 3, one yellow, one green and one tan/green; pots and pans; food. Moriane starts a fire, Tony and I search for firewood, Joél sets up the tents. I start peeling and cutting potatoes, carrots, peppers and tomatoes for caril; Moraine prepares the meal. All the while the children stand clustered, slightly off to the side, saying nothing or occasionally talking to each other or giggling. At dusk they go home.
When I come back from the bathroom in the morning, a few children have arrived at our campsite. I try to perform my morning routines of washing my face and putting on moisturizer without noticing the kids watching. But I do. I find myself turning away, not wanting the stares or wanting to engage them.
Joél and I prepare breakfast. Actually, Joél does. I feel frozen by not knowing what to do. Last time we were here, our colleague offered our left over rice to children. We never saw anything like it. Children were piled up on top of each other to get a bite to eat.
It’s two weeks later and two more weeks into the hungry months. We eat our breakfast, struggling to know what to do. We arrived here in order to help the communities so that they can achieve food security. How do we who have food security work in communities where there is none? What do we do with the silent crowd of witnesses, watching our every move, every bite?
The children have been distracted. I guess the visitors to their community have gotten boring. A different skin color, house and mode of transportation no longer holds their interest this sunny Tuesday morning. But I am still unnerved by knowing that though they left for now, they or other children will be watching. What does it mean to share?
Wednesday, Aug. 22, 2007
The children surrounded us almost all day. They left only for a little bit and at lunch they were practically sitting on our esteiras (grass mats). We had to ask them to go home so that we could eat lunch and take an afternoon rest. I wish I knew how to engage them but not encourage them.
I realize how North American I am when I am here. We certainly do not like to be too close to our neighbors and definitely do not like to be stared at.
Friday, Aug. 24, 2007
Last night we discovered five girls age 8-13 that walked from Canhame to Mambue (15 km) to carry water for their families. They hadn’t eaten anything since leaving Canhame and weren’t planning to eat anything until after they had arrived home. They arrived to get water but hadn’t succeeded yesterday because the lines were too long. They were spending the night in Mambue. All they had with them were an extra capulana each. They didn’t have shoes and we supposed that they were going to carry 20 liters (we found out this morning that they were only going to carry 5 liters).
We gave them some bread and meat to eat. There were other children around but we gave a full meal to these girls because they had come so far and were not with their parents.
Tuesday, Aug. 28, 2007
The children here in Thangera (and all the communities) do not speak much Portuguese. When we arrived they were all in the school yard and then swarmed around our cars. It took several times to get them to give us space to eat our lunch and back to school. Afterwards, there were only a few that hung around our campsite.
I feel so conscious of Jesus’ words, “Let the little children come to me and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these”.
Thursday, Aug. 30, 2007
We arrived home last night. My house on the second story is removed from the stares of any children. It’s a comfort to not have to be the zoo exhibit or village entertainment.
I continue to struggle to know how to relate to the children as we will enter the communities over the course of three years. Through the course of our trip, I tried to interact more with the children. In Canhame, I saw several girls crocheting; Tony had given me a crochet hook for my birthday. So my crochet hook in hand and some string, I went over and asked them to teach me how to crochet. They showed me but because I don’t speak Nungue and they don’t speak English or Portuguese, we didn’t talk much.
In Mambue, there were about 5 girls that followed me around. I took their pictures and showed them. That brought lots of giggles and smiles. When we left Mambue, we found out that one of the girls who we fed hadn’t gotten her water yet (see above picture, she is second from left). Her older brother is the community liaison between Canhame and Mambue and us. He did not seem concerned that she would need to walk the 15 km by herself. What we consider normal is so different here.
In Tchinda, we didn’t see the children much. They gathered around our campsite but when we went to eat, they removed themselves to give us space. The dam site is 2.5+ km from the community so no children followed us there.
In Thangera, only boys hung out at our campsite. We camped under a tree with large exposed roots. We talked with some of them and found out their names. The girls only watched in the mornings and afternoons before and after school.
Tuesday, Aug. 21, 2007
I am unnerved by the children. When we drove into Canhama yesterday afternoon, children from all parts of the village ran to where we parked, swarming around the trucks. They don’t talk to us.
I have to wonder what they think. We drive up and begin to unload plastic containers, multicolored bags and from each container or bag, we pull out assorted things—tents: total 3, one yellow, one green and one tan/green; pots and pans; food. Moriane starts a fire, Tony and I search for firewood, Joél sets up the tents. I start peeling and cutting potatoes, carrots, peppers and tomatoes for caril; Moraine prepares the meal. All the while the children stand clustered, slightly off to the side, saying nothing or occasionally talking to each other or giggling. At dusk they go home.
When I come back from the bathroom in the morning, a few children have arrived at our campsite. I try to perform my morning routines of washing my face and putting on moisturizer without noticing the kids watching. But I do. I find myself turning away, not wanting the stares or wanting to engage them.
Joél and I prepare breakfast. Actually, Joél does. I feel frozen by not knowing what to do. Last time we were here, our colleague offered our left over rice to children. We never saw anything like it. Children were piled up on top of each other to get a bite to eat.
It’s two weeks later and two more weeks into the hungry months. We eat our breakfast, struggling to know what to do. We arrived here in order to help the communities so that they can achieve food security. How do we who have food security work in communities where there is none? What do we do with the silent crowd of witnesses, watching our every move, every bite?
The children have been distracted. I guess the visitors to their community have gotten boring. A different skin color, house and mode of transportation no longer holds their interest this sunny Tuesday morning. But I am still unnerved by knowing that though they left for now, they or other children will be watching. What does it mean to share?
Wednesday, Aug. 22, 2007
The children surrounded us almost all day. They left only for a little bit and at lunch they were practically sitting on our esteiras (grass mats). We had to ask them to go home so that we could eat lunch and take an afternoon rest. I wish I knew how to engage them but not encourage them.
I realize how North American I am when I am here. We certainly do not like to be too close to our neighbors and definitely do not like to be stared at.
Friday, Aug. 24, 2007
Last night we discovered five girls age 8-13 that walked from Canhame to Mambue (15 km) to carry water for their families. They hadn’t eaten anything since leaving Canhame and weren’t planning to eat anything until after they had arrived home. They arrived to get water but hadn’t succeeded yesterday because the lines were too long. They were spending the night in Mambue. All they had with them were an extra capulana each. They didn’t have shoes and we supposed that they were going to carry 20 liters (we found out this morning that they were only going to carry 5 liters).
We gave them some bread and meat to eat. There were other children around but we gave a full meal to these girls because they had come so far and were not with their parents.
Tuesday, Aug. 28, 2007
The children here in Thangera (and all the communities) do not speak much Portuguese. When we arrived they were all in the school yard and then swarmed around our cars. It took several times to get them to give us space to eat our lunch and back to school. Afterwards, there were only a few that hung around our campsite.
I feel so conscious of Jesus’ words, “Let the little children come to me and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these”.
Thursday, Aug. 30, 2007
We arrived home last night. My house on the second story is removed from the stares of any children. It’s a comfort to not have to be the zoo exhibit or village entertainment.
I continue to struggle to know how to relate to the children as we will enter the communities over the course of three years. Through the course of our trip, I tried to interact more with the children. In Canhame, I saw several girls crocheting; Tony had given me a crochet hook for my birthday. So my crochet hook in hand and some string, I went over and asked them to teach me how to crochet. They showed me but because I don’t speak Nungue and they don’t speak English or Portuguese, we didn’t talk much.
In Mambue, there were about 5 girls that followed me around. I took their pictures and showed them. That brought lots of giggles and smiles. When we left Mambue, we found out that one of the girls who we fed hadn’t gotten her water yet (see above picture, she is second from left). Her older brother is the community liaison between Canhame and Mambue and us. He did not seem concerned that she would need to walk the 15 km by herself. What we consider normal is so different here.
In Tchinda, we didn’t see the children much. They gathered around our campsite but when we went to eat, they removed themselves to give us space. The dam site is 2.5+ km from the community so no children followed us there.
In Thangera, only boys hung out at our campsite. We camped under a tree with large exposed roots. We talked with some of them and found out their names. The girls only watched in the mornings and afternoons before and after school.
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