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"Begin with the children."Karen Shouldice – Etobicoke, ON
Touching almost 7000 pairs of hands has profoundly touched me - some so wee, some so calloused, many marked by disease or open sores, others scarred by burns or injury; all of them, hands of children. I have just returned from Tanzania — my first SCAW distribution. Without wanting to sound trite, a bit of my heart remains there. It is impossible not to compare the lives of these youngsters with those of my own children and grandchildren. How is it that one's place of birth determines one's right to the basic necessities of life? We cannot help but be outraged by the inequity. Impossible economic circumstances have resulted in thousands eking out a life in extreme poverty. While material necessity they lack, there can be no doubt the children are raised well-rooted in the security of their culture. Babes, even as old as three years, are snuggled close to their mom's bodies while their mothers perform daily chores: hauling water, cooking on open fires, hewing wood, scrubbing clothes, and fetching food. All these tasks require walking long distances. Children, young and old, accept family chores as a natural part of their day.
There was a tremendous sensitivity evident — older ones nurturing those younger. At the schools we visited, children were busy well before class, sweeping the schoolyard with homemade whisks fashioned from the veins of palm leaves. It was incredible to me that whisks didn't become weapons to swat one another. No, they were single-minded in their responsibility. We were in awe of the respect shown to elders. Even in classrooms, crammed with upwards of seventy children, all rose automatically to acknowledge us. On one occasion, the number of students out-numbered the available desks which meant that about twenty were seated on the floor. We asked how it was determined who would sit on the floor. The teacher told us that the students decided that. "The same children on the floor each day?" "No. They take turns." A very real sense of community was pervasive. Bedkit distributions include very long waits. The patience of hundreds of children seated on the ground, hot and crowded together, was unparalleled: no poking or jostling each other, no refreshments, no movies, and no complaining. The mattress covers had several different designs. Whenever possible we offered the child a choice ("chagua moja"). Some quickly touched the one closest to them seemingly cautious about missing the opportunity. Others' eyes lit up at the chance to choose. We wondered if perhaps this was the first time they had had the good fortune to be able to pick a favourite.
Bare feet were the norm. Those with shoes had very tired or ill fitting ones. One fellow wore only one. We could speculate about their excitement when they would open their bedkit bags to discover a brand new pair of brightly-coloured flip flops — designer names irrelevant here. How telling were the eyes of those children. So many indicated a hesitancy as to what was happening. Others were jaundiced. Still others registered the emptiness resulting from malnutrition. I will forever be troubled by the eyes of one small fellow who, after his photo was taken, looked up at me with huge soulful eyes and said, "Want milk." The words were spoken quietly but ever so clearly. Somehow the bedkit wasn't enough. For years, I thought I knew the importance of SCAW's mission. In fact, my knowledge was only superficial. I now understand for certain that each and every bedkit has a value beyond anything I could have imagined. The sight of bedkits being carried home along dirt roads will be with me forever. I'll leave it to wiser people than I to sum up:
To our donors, thank you. Thank you for caring enough to do something. What we do for children is never wasted. |
