Once upon a time in Grahamstown, South Africa...
That's how the story began April 9 of this year. The story, or at least my chapter of this ongoing saga ends Thursday. I'm convinced that, as much as I'd like to believe it, not all stories end happily ever after.
I've been thinking back a lot on these past couple months and I was thinking of a good way to finish off this blog-this part of my life. I've put together a small list of ramblings, of wisdom, of thoughts, of reflections for this last entry. That being said, I originally wanted to have this be a happy, positive entry that sums up what it's been like to be here. Part of it will be like that, but I think too many people, including myself, hope for story book endings: where everything turns out all right, where all the pieces fall into place, where the kids overcome the incredible odds against them and emerge from their problems triumphant.
It would be a lie to say there haven't been small triumphs. There certainly have been-for me and the kids. I hope that in some small way I've made an impact on a couple of them. I think one of the greatest and worst parts of being here and working with these kids is never knowing how much of an impact one has made. Perhaps I've helped a lot. Perhaps I've helped a little. Perhaps I've made one kid see that he doesn't need to have the same life as his father and his father's father. Perhaps I haven't. I won't know. I can hope. I can wish, but I'll never know--and that's part of the beauty of working here.
I think sometimes volunteers come to Amasango ready to take on the world, and that's a good attitude to have. But one must not get discouraged when everything's not fixed by the time they leave; at the end of three months, at the end of a year, or at the end of five years. The problems these kids face are very real problems. The problems these kids face could, and in some cases might, put them behind bars. Fight against these problems with the kids. Hold their hand through their problems, but don't feel bad when the problem doesn't magically go away. It takes work-and time-for everything to be made all right. Some of the kids will overcome these obstacles. Maybe not today. Maybe not next week, but someday, somehow, they'll work themselves out of the situation they're currently in.
Many of the kids I've worked with will go on to become successful adults. I really believe that. Sadly, I also believe that unless some of the children make a 180 degree turn in their lives, they will end up in prison, or end up dead. Do they still have time to change? Yes, but time is not on their side nor is the system put in place by the government. It's a system that is set up for them to fail. There are also systems in place, like Amasango and Eluxolweni, that works at counteracting the system set up by the state. They will save many, but they can't save all. Sadly, not all South African street children will end up living happily ever after.
Don't pity them. They don't need it. They know what they're up against. They don't need you or me or anyone coming in and pitying them. I did this when I arrived. I've seen other volunteers do it. It's wrong. Pitying them will get them nowhere. Understanding their background is one thing. Justifying extremely anti-social behavior because of their socio-economic background won't help. They are capable of taking on the world, but the world needs to nudge them from time to time and say "wait a minute, that's not right." The world needs to understand their background, understand their situation, but also let them know that they're capable of doing more than stealing, pimping and prostituting. They need to own their problems, not let their problems own them. Sympathize always, but don't always rationalize their behavior.
Understand you can't save them all right now-but you can try damn hard to. I'm convinced one can only do so much before one needs to let go. I've worked so hard with one of my favorite kids from my last visit to South Africa. He's left the shelter, or rather been kicked out of the shelter, for stealing. He's stabbed somebody in front of me. He's on drugs and begs for money on the street. He carries a knife and flashes it at me when he sees me, smiling when I look at him disapprovingly. Here's the worst part: he's brilliant. But his brilliance will get him nowhere unless, at some point, he stops.
I want him to stop. Jane wants him to stop. He doesn't want to. Unless, and until, he shows a willingness to change, I am convinced no amount of attention will help him. You can try. You can tell the kids that you care. You can show the kids that you care. You can always leave the door for dialogue open, but there comes a point where you can't drag them in by the wrist anymore. They need to walk through the door, or beat down the door, themselves.
The same is true with this boy. I've told him I'm always there to chat with him, and he does walk with me many days down High Street talking about the money he's made, the new knife he's got hidden in his sock, or the boy he wants to punch out. I've tried so hard with this little guy--and he's still living on the street. You can't save them all right now. Hopefully one day he'll make the change and realize what he's doing is wrong. Maybe he'll remember something I said to him as we walked down High Street three years earlier. Maybe it will have nothing to do with me. Maybe he'll never change and will end up in jail, but I really hope not. His life story, and all of their life stories, are still being written. None of us have chosen when or where we came into this world. Nor does anyone choose when they leave this world. But in the moments between, we all have the opportunity to choose.
Treat them as though they're human and understand the story beyond the story. Somebody once said to me "treat somebody as if they're less than human for a long enough period of time, and people will eventually believe you." It's true. These kids aren't treated as human beings. They walk onto Rhodes, they're asked to leave. They beg in front of fast food places or in front of the supermarket and they're immediately dismissed by many as little black, thug, drug-addicted boys. Is that the case with some of them? Certainly. Is that the case with all of them? Certainly not.
One boy I know here was caught stealing from the cathedral. He was stealing copper to resell at a township scrap yard. "How could somebody like that steal from a House of God? What a terrible boy." I'm sure many people thought that. I'm sure many of you think that as you read this. What people don't see is that this boy, in his early teens, was being cared for by his sister. He had little or no other family to speak of. That sister, the one who took care of him, who tried to clothe him, who tried to feed him, died of AIDS recently. So what's he to do? Is stealing the answer? No. But dismissing him as a trouble maker isn't either. Sometimes, there's just no place to turn for these youngest, most marginalized members of society. We all need to work on making sure everyone, everywhere is given a chance.
Understand that while your chapter is finished, the work is far from over. Others will come. Others will help, but it ultimately lies on these kids, and on us, to make sure they succeed. The fight doesn't end when you get back on the plane and return home. It continues even though you can't see it, and aren't living in it. How lucky we all are to have been born into a country where nearly all of us are really given a chance. I don't care if you've got a mother addicted to crack and live in the projects in the South Bronx or whether you live in a loft in SoHo. It's not easy for anybody, anywhere, but at least in the U.S. everyone is given a chance, even if not much of one, to succeed.
Once upon a time there was a 21-year-old guy who visited Grahamstown, South Africa. He had an amazing time with some of the most incredible kids. Despite the fact that he was older, he learned just as much from them as they did from him. He wished and hoped that all the kids would go on to become president of their country. He wanted more than anything for them all to live happily ever after.
The rest is still unwritten.
