Sometimes I wonder what a child would say if they could tell their story. Sometimes I wonder who would listen. Sometimes I wonder what the listener would do with what they heard.

The Present

My name is Trukie, pronounced like, “True-Key,” but roll the R. Until recently, I haven’t been wanted, or at least that’s what I’ve been told my whole life. But NOW… well I’ll just start at the beginning.

May 2011

My short hair is tightly braided and my light brown skin appears like fertile soil between the neatly crafted rows that adorn my head. Normally I wear a shy smile but today my lips are stitch straight, I hate hospitals. The sterile smell and morose air are suffocating. I sit by his bed, he is dying, my Daddy is dying. It was the same when Momma passed; she also had IT, you know that thing that we don’t talk about.

I had been living with my Gran for as long as I can remember, that was until she died. Since then I’ve bounced around to just about every member of my family, but it always ends with the same four words, “We don’t want you.” I keep my bags packed; it’s easier that way. Sometimes I think my nine-year-old body is too small hold all this sadness. Sometimes I feel like my heart is becoming chalky, as if it would crumble if streams of tears didn’t fill the great fissures.

This world can be a cruel and lonely place.

June 2011

Now that Daddy is gone, the family is trying to figure out what to do with me. I hear them whispering about the money they might be able to collect from the government for taking care of me. But when that social worker lady told them they wouldn’t be able to get any of the money, the tune suddenly changed. I’m out of options; there is nowhere left to go.

July 2011

The family council has decided that they don’t want me anymore. They all say I’m stupid and a burden to the family. Even my teachers say I’m dumb and can’t learn. I think they all might be right. I try and try at school, but can’t ever seem to make sense of it all. The letters and consonants are like algorithms explaining distant galaxies oscillating at the speed of light. Formulaic dissonance. Incomprehensible equations, my eyes cannot compute.

The family’s decision means I am officially an orphan. I’m so scared.

At the same time I am almost relieved by the decision. I might be stupid, but I knew they didn’t want me. It is the one thing I have always known, it is the one thing of which they have constantly reminded me. I’m not wanted.

Since December, I have been asking this nice lady if I could move into the house where they take care of the other children like me, you know children who aren’t wanted. She said that she would check into it for me. I don’t know what I’m going to do if she says no.

August 2011

That lady finally got back to me and she said that the government SAID YES, they agreed to place me in the LUO house!

The Present

Until recently, I haven’t been wanted, or at least that’s what I’ve been told my whole life. But NOW… NOW I have a home and a family. I have new brothers and sisters, and a new Momma. They tell me that I am so loved and so wanted. They tell me I’m beautiful and that I can be somebody.

They even took me to get this test done on my eyes and my brain. They said I did a good job. ME, I did a good job?! I could hardly believe it. The lady who ran the test said I was really smart. ME, smart, that’s a first. They also told me I have this funny thing with my eyes and brain, a special thing that not many people have called dyslexia. They said they think can help me make sense out of the chaos.

For once, things seem to be going my way. I have never felt so safe and secure, so loved and looked after. I don’t know what comes next but I’m not scared. Okay, maybe I’m a little scared but only of this; that when the morning sun shines brilliant orange through my sleepy eyelids, that I might wake to find that this was only a dream.

This is my story.

Could you hear it? It is the faintest whisper of the wind. It is the sound of small sapling punching through the parched soil. It is the sound of hope growing where it once was forgotten.

Sometimes I wonder what a child would say if they could tell their story. Sometimes I wonder who would listen. Sometimes I wonder what the listener would do with what they heard…

LOVE. JOY. PEACE.
Zach

Children depend on adults and the system to guide them in their formative years.  It’s a big part of what makes adults, adults and children, children.  The system is supposed to, in theory and practice, instruct a child to learn X material, do Y work, in order to become an educated, self-reliant adult. But what happens when adults don’t give proper guidance and or the system is ineffective, broken and just plain non-existent?

In many ways absente describes a lot of our community’s parents and ineffective, broken and non-existent describes the local school system in which many of the black, Xhosa speaking children we work with go.  As of late, I’m beginning to realize that if a child does exactly what the system asks of them, it still may not be enough.  And while we’re proactively supplementing the school’s curriculum (if one could call it that) through daily tutoring, we are on a never-ending quest, not to do what is good, but what is BEST for these children.

Let us not talk about the problem, but rather BE ABOUT a solution.

Ithemba, in conjunction with Brand On Screen Printing, is pioneering a program to develop marketable job skills for some of our youth.  That is, to engender niche skills that will help differentiate them in a when job hunting.   For starters we have put together a seven-week course to teach the basics of screen printing; from creating and preparing art, all the way to printing and finishing a product.  We are stating small with four boys enrolled in the first trial run, but we hope to offer more courses in the future, and eventually an apprenticeship program.

(pics from week one)

The plan doesn’t stop with screen printing.  Our hope is to take the model and apply it to carpentry and other trade skills, as well.

Give a man to fish, and you feed him for a day, but teach a man to fish and you feed him for a lifetime. Or as I’ve quoted before, “When we invest our money in the poor, we make the poor into beggars; when we invest in programs for the poor, we turn the poor into beneficiaries…” –Jakara Christian

So may we be a people who fight against systems that perpetuate dependence by empowering people to depend on themselves.  And as we seek to supply those in need, may the need we seek supply be helping the poor to supply for themselves.

LOVE. JOY. PEACE.
Zach

Everything we do in life is a choice.  And as importantly, every choice we make has a consequence.  The consequences of our choices can be positive/rewarding or negative/damaging.  Most adults know this, and as they go through every-day decision-making processes, their cognitive reasoning carefully weights risk and likely consequences. But somewhere along the way we have to be taught these things, modeling and personal experience being the main ways.

The Ithemba afterschool curriculum focuses on teaching children about consequences through the “Star Students” program, which uses positive reinforcement to get children to behave.  The program is simple; students who behave, do their homework & participate during classroom sessions, engage in activities and have a good attitude, on a given day will receive a star as a reward.  At the end of the week if a student has accrued enough stars they receive a reward.  The rewards vary each week, sometimes small, sometimes big, and are used as extrinsic motivation for building solid decision-making skills. Rewards also teach the children the value of meritocracy.

Last Friday we threw a small party for our 15 star students in the LUO safe house and it was a blast.  The highlight was baking bran muffins with the help of 15 eager sue chefs.  After carefully mixing the batter, the kids enthusiastically licked the bowls as we waited for the muffins to bake. The children checked the muffins every 15 seconds for 30 minutes until they finally came out of the oven.  I was amazed to see something that took so much time to make, disappear in the blink of an eye.  The children devoured the delectable muffins with lightening speed.

The perfect ending to another week working with these special children- Life is good!