Wall Graffiti

It was a star-studded event. “The first of its kind;” and a handful of our kids got to be a part of it. Okay, sadly, I didn’t even know who the “stars” were, but then again, if you ask me, they were actually our kids. Never-you-mind the U.S. Consular-General, famous national artist, and local media personnel…six of our youngsters were given the opportunity to demonstrate their unique artistic talents. Now their names and work are permanently displayed in a mural painting covering one wall of the U.S. Consulate here.

In January, we were one of three agencies serving underprivileged children invited to participate in a local arts festival (co-sponsored by a local arts organization and UNICEF). The festival was intended to promote awareness of violence against children. And our clients rose to the occasion. Two days were spent painting the mural created by well-known (around here, at least) art director, Thotta Tharani, from suggestions given to him by local school children. Images included the American and national flag intertwining, kids playing basketball and cricket, kids reading in a library, symbols of peace, and other famous sites from both countries. Tharani gave our kids individual attention as he helped them improve their blending of colors and stroke movements.

It was surreal watching the care with which our kids applied these principles. True artistes. One boy brought his entire collection of pencils from home…just in case. They practiced painting within the lines the night before-and were so excited about the project that they were reportedly dressed and waiting for their 7 am pick up by 4 am!! Wah???!

Since we work with so many kids, it was hard for staff to narrow down the number of participants! Those who came had demonstrated some artistic skill, but mainly, they had to be of a certain grade level (proof that they have consistently attended school) and currently attending regularly. We wished we could have honored all our hard-working scholars**, but unfortunately, we were only allowed six (actually, five, but the organizers let us squeeze one more in…Ha ha- take that Consulate security!).

At the close of Day 1, we took the children to a local beach. Four of the six had never been to the beach. The thrill of this new experience was apparent in their high-pitched squeals of delight while jumping in the waves and building sand castles near the water's edge. Before leaving the beach, my co-worker treated the children to ice cream cones. It was a good time. Especially, getting to see these young people just being kids!

Once back in the car, my co-worker asked all our little artists, "What will you do now? Rest?” Amidst protests, one of the six mischievously replied, "No, Madam, we are too excited to sleep. We will play games all night." Of course, by the time the vehicle reached the lodge that was housing the children and their parents for the weekend, all six were sound asleep.

Day 2 found the children just as excited as the day before. As the mural neared completion, the children met with the local U.S. Consul General and members of the press. Before the children left town, we brought their parents (who, due to consulate security regulations, hadn’t been given permission to attend the event) to see the finished product. Each child was able to point out his/her signature that had been ceremoniously inscribed onto the wall earlier that day.

Despite my inability to converse with the kids, they were fantastic about helping me feel included in the fun. I was left alone with them for twenty minutes, as we waited for their parents to arrive, and they all became my language teachers and dressed me up to look as local as possible…I think it was in an attempt to marry the old “spinster” (as any single female is referred to-at age 18, 28, or 38…it doesn’t matter) off to one of the local men working at the event. The big tipoff was when they made the two of us pose for a picture with him handing me a “ring.” Oh, those kids…such a riot.

The chance to bond with our kids more made this weekend of working from the wee hours of the morning (without comp time, mind you) absolutely worth every minute. I love my job.

**The drop-out rate in the villages is extremely high, and fluctuates constantly. Many of the children we work with have either a) been forced to work alongside their parents or grandparents (some even as young as five); or b) never had the opportunity to attend school before their release. This creates any number of challenges as they try to transition back to village life. Knowing what a struggle it was for me to sit in a classroom, I can only imagine how difficult it must be for our kids to suddenly be expected to sit at a desk, listen to a teacher, complete homework assignments, take tests…even holding a pencil or drawing are novelties for some of our clients. For those youths that are still too young to work full-time, starting in a classroom full of kids half your age can be too embarrassing. Others try to start in classrooms part-way through a school year…any of us would struggle to catch up!

Basic classroom etiquette aside, lots of our kids are dealing with the trauma of forced servitude, and often, additional physical or sexual abuse. While corporal punishment is illegal here, it is still a common classroom practice. To be beaten by a teacher could easily re-traumatize our clients. Several clients claim to fear a teacher. Asking that teachers not hit students, however, is seen as ludicrous, since this is not viewed in the villages, and even by many in the city, as abuse or excessive.

Let Freedom Ring...

“’Freedom’-we repeated to ourselves, and yet we could not grasp it. We had said this word so often during all the years we dreamed about it, that it had lost its meaning. Its reality did not penetrate into our consciousness; we could not grasp the fact that freedom was ours.”
- Austrian psychiatrist, Viktor Emil Frankl, on life after liberation from Auschwitz.



As I stepped out of our vehicle to greet the recently released bonded laborers in February, I was awed by the immediate recognition on their faces. Fifty individuals from our last two operations were before me, ready for their “Freedom Training”: three days of free medical care, educational sessions, and family bonding. Half of this particular group was from the operation I had the privilege of staffing in December. A picture from that day of one little girl I had especially bonded with serves as my screensaver at work; but I had never expected them to remember me. Even my three-year-old angel seemed to smile at me out of familiarity. The painfully early drive to this training facility, after a late night at the office, was quickly forgotten as a fourteen-year-old victim of bonded labor from the same family grabbed my hand to walk me into the nearby meeting hall.

This was Day 2 of the released laborers’ “Freedom Training.” Born of the desire to serve the families we work with better, this training was created to provide them with information found to be useful for a more successful transition from slavery to freedom. As the Frankl quote above describes, emerging from captivity is not as glorious as it may sound. This is just one more way we can offer support to our clients as they endure the challenges of rehabilitation.

Another benefit of the “Freedom Training” is that it offers an opportunity for our staff and the families to bond. Perhaps the most significant aspect of this experience, so far, is when the families have a chance to sit together and talk about their hopes and dreams for the future. All the families have responded well, so far, and comment on the fact that they wouldn’t take the time to do this on their own. The idea behind the first family session is to help them start planning, and seeing the bigger picture, rather than the day-to-day. It leads up to later sessions on, say, savings or substance abuse, which has then led to conversations about how money spent nightly on alcohol, for example, can eat away at one’s dream of starting a tea shop or building a house. Many will hear their children’s dreams of becoming teachers or policemen for the first time, and better understand the importance of allowing their children to pursue an education.

Day 1 starts here in the city, with general medical check-ups at a local hospital, followed by eye exams, and a screening for HIV/AIDS. Days 2 and 3 are spent at a rural conference center, where educational sessions are conducted. Topics include: their legal rights and helpful government grants (“schemes”), health, hygiene, nutrition, domestic violence, substance abuse, child abuse/sexual abuse, savings and self-help groups, as well as laying some ground work for the emotional healing that may need to take place. While the kids receive a number of these sessions, there is plenty of time for games and other fun. Lodging, food, and transportation are provided for the families throughout their stay. Family-oriented activities are planned for every evening.

The three days offer an opportunity for our staff to really get to know the dynamics of the families we work with, and to gain a more well-rounded perspective on how to properly serve the families. At our most recent training, just this last week, it became especially clear that the three-days offer our staff the chance to really gain the trust of the families. Our most recent operation was quite unusual-and came to fruition rather quickly. While this was a HUGE blessing, it gave the families little, if any, reason to trust us as we ushered them to what we knew to be safety. On the last day of their Freedom Training, the families shared that when we arrived, the owner of the facility (i.e. the perpetrator of crimes against them) had told them to hide because we were bad and would put them in jail. As a result, five families who had hidden deep in the rock quarry were still living in bondage. The training participants insisted we go back and help release these others. Oh, yeah. Trust had been gained.

It’s a huge event for the department and involves a LOT of bodies and time to prepare. My role has mainly been to create tools to help the planning go more smoothly (my mom is probably laughing at the thought of me trying to keep things organized; aren’t you, Mom?), gather materials, create some curriculum, be a photographer, and, as always, entertain the babies. Since November, we have had four of these trainings; and we continue to refine its content and execution. Luckily, the feedback from the families has been extremely positive, so we are encouraged to continue and to grow the program.

So, back to the February training: The picture on my screen at work of the little girl on the day of release shows her wearing a dingy, grease-stained, brown boy’s shirt as her only item of clothing. In fact, I’m pretty sure I thought she was a boy for the first few hours. I remember watching as she had tried, repeatedly, to eat food (that had seemingly dried on it at a much earlier date) off of that shirt. A month and a half after that day, there she was again. But this time, she was fully clothed in a frilly, bright orange dress and had her hair done up in a neat, half ponytail. The sight nearly brought tears to my eyes.

Everything about the group I had met the day they were released from slavery seemed drastically altered-for the positive. Of course, each family in the group is still dealing with issues that could take years to work through; but they will do so on their terms. A sign of positive change was apparent in the patriarch of the group. His stoic silence on operation day had not betrayed any emotion. The lifelessness of his stare had worried me: he seemed utterly lost, as the only way of life he’d known for thirty-years had suddenly ended. As I watched him at the Freedom Training, I had the joy of observing him smile and laugh. He still looked slightly lost; he was, after all, taking in a whole lot of new information. But, now, there was life in his eyes. And that fills me with hope.

California....knows how to party

Dr. Dre and Tupac’s “California Love” was certainly on the playlist last night for all the hip mosquitoes living it up on my feet. Oh yes, the place was packed as the Beach Boys’ “California Girls” and Chuck Berry’s “Promised Land” beckoned one and all…



Okay, I can only take that so far… If you weren’t amused by this post, don’t worry-neither was I! Now my feet must be pumping out Augustana’s “California’s Burning”…