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This is for the children…

Every day I see children. I see them when I walk outside the security gate of our hotel; wandering down the street or playing with rocks. I see them near the entrance of the place where I sit to “get work done” at Logali House; kicking a sand-filled water bottle, tethered to a pole…similar to our kids playing tether-ball but instead of using their hands, they use their feet. I see them carrying baby brothers and sisters on their hips; consoling their cries. I see them washing cars, carrying sacks of empty water bottles, running errands for vendors. I see them in the marketplace; begging, crying, lost. I see them walking to and from school, dressed in freshly pressed uniform with dirty socks or mix-matched shoes. I see them and I smile.

I smile because children make me happy. I smile because the faces I see remind me of my own children who are now grown up. The faces I see remind me of the students I’ve taught, disciplined, angered, and loved. I smile because they look at me in bewilderment. I smile because I just recently realized that no on e smiles at them. They are sometimes overlooked and ignored.

They are overlooked because they are many and to pay attention to one is to care for all. They are overlooked because not so long ago, some of the adults where standing, sitting, playing in the exact same places that the kids do now. They are invisible because they are still full of respect and not feared. They come when you call. They greet with an outstretched hands. They are still hopeful and cheerful – like kids.

The children who did not ask to be born are here and still full of happiness for now. They are smart, tough, determined, entrepreneurial, and fearless. I am intimidated by their strength. I find it amazing that they will one day become leaders regardless of their upbringing and their educational experience. They are happy to simply be but, they are also bored and yearning for an education. They know that there is more for them to have but, they do not know how to go about getting it. I see them.

There are a few children who see me on a daily basis and speak. Mimicking my every word:

Me - “How are you?”

Little Girl - "How are you?"

Me - “I’m fine.” 

Little Girl - "I’m fine."

Me - “What’s your name?” 

Little Girl - "What’s your name?"

Me - “My name is Saree.” 

Little Girl - "My name is Saree."

It’s an hilarious occasion that takes place on a weekly basis. One little girl in particular (maybe around 3 or 4 years old) has this “conversation” with me every time I pass her. When I walk away, we are both laughing and looking forward to our next encounter – I hope. 

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Yet, there are others who continue to look at me with bewilderment and some with disdain - as if to say why are you here and when will you do something for us? These are the children that keep me awake at night. They pull at my heart-strings and make me want to work hard and give them the best; nothing less than what my own children received. They make me wonder why the government has not taken care of them properly; providing free education, free breakfast and lunch, free rides to and from school. When I see them, I try and fail to avert my eyes while theirs burn a hole in my heart.They all seem look at me with the same question: why?

I don’t know when I’ll be able to truly do the work that I so desperately want to do for them. I’ve come to realize that it takes far more time, planning, and funding. I’ve also learned that I’ll not be able to meet every one of their needs and that I’ll eventually have to be okay with it. But for now, I’m not okay with how they exist without education and I’m driven to do something about it.

The children of South Sudan, like so many children around the world, have had to grow up fast. They’ve lived hard lives in the short time that they’ve been here. My hope is that soon, I will be among the other hard-working adults here meeting their needs in a positive way.  For now, I will continue to smile at them whenever I see them because I see them.