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| Sunday, 28 September 2003 |
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Features |  |
| News Business Features Editorial
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A child cannot wait by Vimukthi Fernando and Neomi Kodikara It is six in the morning. The city of Colombo is rising from its slumber. Crows flock by their favourite haunts - waste bins of the municipality. The stench, pungent, repulsive. Bundles lay on pavement racks nearby. Newspaper, card-board, old banners, clothing; rolled into one. They start moving... revealing human figures. Dressed in tatters. Men, women... And, children. Sooty faces. Runny noses. T-shirts lined with holes. Dark patches on clothes. Dirty. The eyes. Big, round, shining... gleaming with hope... For tomorrow?
"Many things we need can wait, the child cannot. Now is the time his bones are being formed. His blood is being made, his mind is being developed. To him we cannot say tomorrow. His name is today," said Gabrial Mistral, Nobel Prize-winning Chilean poet. And yet, we wait, wait, and wait. The years go by. Conventions are made and ratified. Commissions and departments are established. But alas, what benefit has it brought on our future generations? For still they lay, bundled up in tattered clothes in the pavements, labouring from dusk to dawn, being beaten up, being molested, used and abused by the very people entrusted with their welfare and protection, the adult world. Adults today are robbing children of their childhood, their today; and this is with a definite impact on their tomorrow. With Universal Children's Day, October 1, close at hand, the Sunday Observer team went 'into the gutters' down Gunasinghe Pura, Town Hall and Borella to talk to the waifs who haunt Colombo's teeming underbelly. Some willingly some others reluctantly after a lot of persuasion came forward to speak about their lives on the streets, their plight, their problems and of course their hopes and aspirations. There is nothing permanent about their lives, they simply exist. Their prime concerns being getting some sort of food and a shelter for sleep. With every passing day they make only one prayer, "Just as this day has gone, let the next pass." "All that we want is to find enough money to run the day, fill the tummies of our little kids, at least scantly," say many parents on the streets most of whom subsist on daily wages. For Rohan and many other young people living in the streets around the city, the dawn of another day brings hope, that things may turn out well and they will be able get a mouthful of rice from some generous `nona' or `mahathaya.' "We do not heap hopes one after the other, but think only of the bare necessities of life." Early in the morning they get into work, following tiring hours of hard work move into the remaining part or the evening, and their lives revolve around this routine. Whenever he can, after school or on holidays, 13 year old Saman makes a run for the market. He collects as many tins and cardboard pieces that lie strewn around the shops and sells them for a few rupees. He keeps five to ten rupees in his pocket. The rest goes in his piggy bank made of clay. He is "saving to buy a bicycle," for himself. Sometimes he helps his mother to sell sweep tickets. Though they have been selling those `lucky' sweeps for nearly 10 years, what they have got is far from luck. Saman (13) and Kasun (7), are two brothers who stay with their mother on the street. Both of them attend a nearby school. 'But not everyday,' says Kasun. 'Our money and books are being robbed," Saman complains.
So their mother has to keep vigil till about four in the morning everyday, since her husband is in prison. "One day I want to become a soldier like this,' says Kasun showing a picture of an army soldier he had drawn in his school book. But his brother gives a hard look, with dull, bloodshot eyes, staring. With despair and disappointment towards society. Fifteen year old Chandra who has studied up to grade 3, says education has not helped her much. She is on the streets eking out a living by performing odd jobs. She enjoys looking after the little children of her neighbours. How does she get her money? "All the Mahattaya's here know me. And they give me money." Though the answer needs more probing, it cannot be done, for a crowd had already gathered around us and intently listening. Education is a different issue with Nadeeka, who looks melancholy and sombre. In a dark tone she remarks, "I really like to go to school, but how can I, when I don't have any books." "Why what happened to the books?" "I lost them, when our house went under water," she says. Street is a home as well as a playground to Riyaz and Rameez, a brother duo from Pettah. Too busy playing a game of marbles, they pay scant attention to answer our questions. "We had to stop schooling when we became homeless, once our houses were set on fire," Rameez says. He only smiles shyly when asked whether he does not like to go back to school. He seems enjoying the bliss of freedom from books. Lakshmi claims that she is 22. And her eldest daughter 10 years of age. Though this seems surprising for some, it is somewhat the norm on the street, both Lakshmi and her husband Karuppan spending their whole lives 'on the pavements.' A vicious cycle of homelessness. And we turn to the more 'privileged' lot of the streets. Those who are given some care through the various non-governmental agencies. Tilosha a 6 year old, falls into the 'lucky' lot. She is under the care of Sarvodaya Street Children's Project. Loquacious as well as vivacious, carrying her little sister in her scrawny arms she babbles, "Our father died, last year, falling from a coconut tree, then a `mama' came to live with us, and there was a lot of fights, so amma sent him away, few days ago amma was taken to the police." Now they reside in a shanty in Ratmalana, of which the rent is paid by Sarvodaya. Her mother used to beg along the streets of Colombo with the children. Taken into custody for the crime of 'begging' and released just a few days ago, she now sells joysticks in Fort, with the assistance of Sarvodaya. Sarvodaya Street Children's Project situated in Borella serves over 75 children day in and day out. They conduct programmes from pre-school level to training on income generation for the older children, ready to leave their day shelter. Income generation activities are open to parents as well. A loan of Rs. 2,000 is offered to each member on a repayment basis of Rs. 20 a day. "The parents of these children are involved in begging, prostitution, drug addiction and all kinds of peddling. If they have a permanent income they will not try to eke out a living by illegal means," says Anula Kahandagama, their pre-school teacher who had been in the centre from its inception in 1987. "What we try to do here is to help them integrate with society, accepting them as human beings, providing them with assistance and shelter, at the times of need." 'My mother is dead, father is in jail," chirps a tiny voice, oblivious of the blow that fate had punched. One and a half year old Amith rattles off a string of names when asked with whom he lives. It may be a wonderful morning, but our hearts are heavy as we present our questions to the relevant authorities and those 'trusted friends' in the organisations who work with them. Not being accepted, or being shunned by society, labelling and unequal opportunity harm them most says Nilanka Jayasuriya, Team Leader, World Vision's Street Children's Project. "It is a not the children that needs rehabilitation, but society" she protests. "For example, take the case of a street child starting school. He or she has to face many problems such as not having a birth certificate, proper vaccination, inability to buy books and clothes on top of the problem of living on the street. And some teachers simply reject these children. It is useless having rules and regulations, Child Rights Ordinance and so on. They need to be implemented" she points out. "Not enough attention" says Asoka Peiris, Commissioner, Probation and Child Care (PCC). "Living on the streets has become cyclic. Since the parents are born and bred on the streets, the children naturally follow. The issues are many, education, protection, they are the most vulnerable group of children", he goes on. The Department of Probation and Child Care had carried out a survey in Colombo, Nugegoda, Ja-Ela, Negombo, Chilaw, Puttalam, Kandy, Ratnapura, Kataragama, Galle and Matara few months ago, he says. However, the results "are not yet available." And the Department "has not yet planned the pilot project" for the want of "identification of problems!" Names used in this article are not the children's real names. ############## Each year 10 million children die under the age of five, 150 million live on the streets, 246 million labour in oppressive and often dangerous factory jobs, in domestic service, on streets or in humiliating conditions of sexual exploitation, 1.2 million are trafficked as a commodity for labour or sex, Over 1 million are exploited in the sex industry, Over 300,000 are exploited in armed conflict in more than 30 countries around the world including Sri Lanka Between 8,000 to 10,000 children continue to be killed or maimed by landmines Source: UNICEF and Human Rights Watch. |
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