First of all, I had a palate-cleanser planned: a post of waterfall pictures that Molly took this weekend at Watkins Glen State Park when my parents were here. But the batteries in her camera died, and I need to buy some more. And some other necessities like milk. I have been unintentionally playing a game called "How long can you exist on what is in your pantry and refrigerator?" But when my five year old started crying because she hasn't been able to drink milk for the past 24 hours, it seemed like it was time to call it quits. We don't live in a Third World country.
Which brings me to the point of my post. Even if you decided to weather an asterisked post, you can still gracefully bow out at this moment. Last night, for a class I had to watch a couple hours of documentary about Mexican children and border crossing. Kids whose desperate parents paid some smuggler to have them brought over the border, and then never see them again because they've probably been trafficked. Kids who decided to cross to get to parents working in the U.S. and got caught. Stories and stories of desperate people in desperate situations. This is not me trying to open up an inflammatory discussion on illegal immigration: this is me saying that kids are kids, and it makes me sad to the point of bursting when children don't get to experience childhood.
Today I met a young man from Eritrea who I cannot get out of my mind and heart. He says he's 19, but he probably said that in order to escape his country. Unfortunately, it means he is treated as an adult and cannot go to high school here. He has an 8th grade education, and he needs to get a job to support himself. His English is certainly better than my Tigrinian, but probably not good enough to land a good job. So my task is to get him in a GED program, preferably one that will offer some ESL training.
Have I said I don't think he could possibly be 19? The mom in me totally kicked in as I sat and talked with this sweet kid. He came alone. He has no family. The Eritrean community in Syracuse is small. His roomate is a blind gentleman he basically cares for. Part of the purpose of my visit was to check in on him and make sure he's doing ok, as he's been here 4 months and therefore his case is not open anymore, per se. He expressed that he is scared to death about snow and ice, and didn't believe that snow is at all fun.
He told me he was a soldier in his country. Had been for awhile. That's what there is to do: be a soldier. Not go to school. One day he put down his gun and walked away. For three days. To another country. With no food, sleeping wherever he laid down his head. He had previously spent 10 months in prison for not consenting to be a soldier. He hated prison, and didn't want to go back. He didn't want to be a soldier either. He wants an education.
He asked me how long it would take to get his GED. He had all kinds of questions about the U.S. and we got out a map and talked about mountains and deserts and farms and where there wasn't snow. I told him that when he gets his GED, maybe he could attend college somewhere in the south:)
Today, if I could be granted a superpower, I would choose the ability to speak any language, anytime. It would be so helpful. I could help boys who don't read, write, or proficiently speak English who were forced to be child soldiers get their GED.
He told me that Eritrea is always being snapped up by other countries. Ethiopia. Sudan. The big guys who sit at the heads of countries make all the rules and play all the strategy games and little kids miss their moms and want to go to school and to eat every day and not be soldiers. Burmese refugees are illegals in Thailand. Bhutanese refugees are illegals in Nepal. Sudanese Lost Boys were not legal in Ethiopia or Chad. Borders shift with wars, immigration policies shift with economies, and the line between legal and illegal can be a few misfiled pieces of paper.
And now, I must buy my kindergartner milk. Because she's a kid and she deserves it and I am her mom and I can give it to her. Maybe it will even be Byrne Dairy chocolate, the best chocolate milk on earth. I am a supporter of childhood.
4 comments:
agghh...makes my heart hurt beyond belief. To think I was complaining today that my health insurance is changing in a not so good way. What a blessing you are to this young man, Tiff! Thanks friend for helping my heart hurt. May I never get too comfortable in my life that I forget.
I don't really have anything eloquent to say to this post, but I want you to know that it touches my heart to the point of moving me beyond words. Love you.
I'm crying. Children who don't get a childhood. It's why I'll never forget that City of God movie. I'm not making any sense, but your post is so good.
Tiff... Very heartbreaking! But I have a question is this boy Habesha? Todds very well off boss is from Eritrea and is Habesha. He may be able to hook you up with some help for this boy. He knows many business men and women who are Eritrean and they like to help each other wherever they can. I wish I had thought about this when we were on the phone but sadly I don't know my geography well enough to have known that Eritrea is where Todds boss is from. Todds boss is very generous and helpful when it comes to Eritreans and Habisha because he is so grateful for the American family that helped his family and he always wants to give back... We need to have a talk about this boy! You may get more help than you thought for him who knows but we should look into it! I read this to Todd and he told me to mention this possibility to you!
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