I was standing on the bus, heading towards Chinatown in Belgrano when I saw it all. As the bus hit the corner of la parque Heras, in sight was an elderly woman who had just removed her purse that was strapped around her body, when in the blink of an eye, a young boy, looking no older than 8 years, with brown khaki pants and a big shirt that looked like it was obviously not his, snatched her purse and zoomed off into the opposite direction that the bus was heading. In less than 10 seconds, he had disappeared into the horizon leaving the woman and onlookers bewildered.
That happened two weeks after I arrived into Buenos Aires…Right; note to self:
1.Keep bag strapped across my body with zips facing inwards
2.Hold on to bag at all times, even though it’s strapped across my body
3. Wear no jewelry
4. Divide money and hide in three different areas; underwear, socks and boots
5. Don’t trust anyone, far less street kids
And so, I concocted these rules in my head.
As I explored Buenos Aires on my own, I couldn’t help but notice the abundance of street children in the parks, at the entrance to the subway stations, in the subway trains peddling goods, at the squares, or just on the street. Each time I noticed one or a few I would wonder, “ Where are their parents?” “ Why aren’t they in school?” “ Are they homeless or do they have a place to sleep?”
“ I wonder if they have had anything to eat for the day?”
Part of me wanted to just ask them but I was afraid for obviously I was a tourist, and I was sure that my inadequate Spanish would make the situation a more vulnerable one.
I was more confident dealing with homeless adults, as I felt that they had accepted their reality (although I am aware that this may not be the case for all and there are some ruthless ones out there), and even with poor Spanish there were always those willing and patient to correct me and help me learn the language.
I had a feeling that street children wouldn’t careless about being patient with some “Morocha” girl trying to be nosy in their business.
And with this uneasiness, I propelled myself into doing research and finding organizations that dealt with street children in Buenos Aires and here’s what I discovered from an article from World Street Children News written in November 2006 (imagine what the figures may look like now given the economic crisis that Buenos Aires has been experiencing over the past couple of years)
- - More than 3000 children wander the streets begging and scavenging for trash. Most have somewhere to go by day’s end but 700 sleep on the street each night.
- - 75% are boys, 25% are girls
- - 30-40% say they left home to escape poverty and domestic abuse.
After some more digging, I came across CAINA. (http://www.chicosdelacalle.org)
It’s a center that takes children from the streets and provides them with meals, medical services and a place to rest their heads, however it’s totally up to the children to come into the centre in San Telmo if they wish to.
And so the work with street children began:
Meet “ Miguel”, a feisty 10 year old boy who taught me a lot about how street children operate in Buenos Aires.
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| Miguel, face covered for obvious reasons |
When I first met Miguel, I looked at him and smiled intensely. He blushed.
Our first meeting was just outside Retiro train station where there is always a hustle and bustle of people coming in and out. I knew I had to be careful in my conversation otherwise he wouldn’t open up and would be abrasive, so I started as I smiled with love and pure intentions in my heart, sticking out my right hand to shake his:
“Hola, me llamo Neeta. No soy de Argentina pero soy de Trinidad y Tobago. Sabes donde esta Trinidad y Tobago? “
He looked at me almost confused but curious. I instinctively knew at that moment he was not accustomed to people talking to him far less foreigners.
I pulled out my trusty world map and showed him where Trinidad was. He looked at me and smiled and said “ pero….como viajas aqua en Beunos Aires ? (but how did you travel here to Buenos Aires)
And I laughed and said “ En un avion grande” as I showed him in gesture by hands and that seemed to intrigued him as he smiled again.
“Porque?” he says
“No se. Quiero ver la ciudad y como vive la gente. Quiero ayudar a la gente encuentro” (I don’t know. I want to see the city and how people live. I want to help people that I find)
And we stood there in silence for a bit, he says “ vienes a Buenos Aires solo?” (you come to Buenos Aires alone?) and I replied “si” and he chuckles and says “ Eres una mujer muy valiente…no es seguro.” (you are a very brave woman..it is not safe)
And as I see his concern for me open up, I asked him his name asked if we could be friends and I then I left. He seemed pleasant.
Two weeks later, I saw him again near Plaza San Martin as I was distributing food to homeless adults, and he instantly recognized me. I waved and as I approached him with other colleagues to give him a bag of food, he ran off.
I didn’t think I’d see him again after that until I saw him some days later hanging around the streets near the Retiro Station. I asked him if he was hungry and if he wanted to get some empanadas and a coca cola with me as I was hungry myself and that the treat was totally on me!
I had never seen a child guzzle a coca cola as fast as he did. He clearly liked it.
I told him that my Castellano wasn’t so good and if as my friend he can help me if my words weren’t correct or didn’t make sense. He agreed to be my teacher during our little luncheon.
He asked after eating his 3rd empanada “ Estas feliz? “ (Are you happy?)
And I said “ A veces…pero estoy tratando a buscar lo que me hace feliz. No estoy seguro.” ( Sometimes… I am trying to find what makes me happy. I am not sure)
Perhaps with that, he sees the vulnerable side of me, and open up about his life. From what I understood from following his castellano and his elaborate hand gestures, this is what I think he said:
He’s part of a group of about 9 street boys. The eldest is 16 and is the gang leader. They all go out in search of loot and bring it in at the end of the day to the leader. He organizes the sale of the items, in return they get money for food and they all sleep nearby to each other, offering security and protection if any of the boys get into trouble. He calls them his family because he has none. His father used to beat him and use money to buy drugs and not food, and his mother died when he was younger. He doesn’t know where his father is today.
When they pickpoket it’s usually necklaces, bracelets and watches. Some of the braver children use a small hand knife to slice the thin straps on purses off women when they are not looking and then when the bag is free, they grab it and run.
He is hungry most times, but he has learnt to live on one meal a day. He says he is not afraid as his big brother will protect him.
He had refused to tell me where they gathered at night.
Nevertheless, I told myself that I was not there to judge.
He asks me more about myself and why would a woman leave her country? He wanted to know if I had run away from home.
And so as I parted with him, I said, “reuiremos otra vez?” (we will meet another time?) but from then forth, I never saw him for the rest of the time I was in Buenos Aires.
As I searched to find Miguel again, I made some more friends.
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| Bravo |
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| Federic |
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| Lauti |
These three boys were my gems. I initially had met them outside the church nearby to the government house called Casa Rosada.
They live very far from the city with their mother who is has an 8 month baby and cannot work. They each have a different father.
I took my three pals, with their mom and the baby to lunch one day. I asked them to choose the place, and they all jumped up in excitement and said ‘ Mc Donalds!”
They had never been to Mc Donalds before.
As they each ordered their meal, they were more intrigued with their toy than the meal itself! As we sat eating our meal, we were drawing and playing our favorite game “ Nombre, Pais, Animales, Comida, Cosa” (Name, Country, Animal, Meal, Thing)
I would write my responses in English while they did theirs in Castellano and we went through the list, I would teach them: Mi Pais con E “ EGYPT”
And then one of the boys would say…” Ah, EGIPTO” and so they would learn the English word for the said country and I would learn the Castellano equivalent to it.
It was funny when we spoke about animals. I would often have to describe the animal by describing the sound it makes and so Mc Donalds turned into an uproar of sounds of animals from monkies, dogs, elephants to lions, and even the occasional huge uproars when one of the boys made the highest points.
People looked on strangely. They could tell the children were from the streets, but it didn’t matter. The children looked so happy and were having such a good time.
To say the least, the boys are intelligent and have very artistic skills.
As we were walking out off Mc Donalds they boys went up to different people and begged them for their remaining papas fritas (fries) so they can fill their kids’ box up.
And to tell you how they appreciated fries; as we were walking along the pavement, hand in hand, Lauti dropped his box of fries on the street accidently and all the fries spilled out and whereas I was worried and said, “ Esta bien Lauti. Vamos” (It's ok Lauti, let's go)
But he sat on the pavement, carefully refilling his box with the fries that fell and popping in a few into his mouth as the same time. We were there helping him, trying to not let people step on his fries.
The things in life that we take for granted. For him, this could be a long time before he ever eats hot fresh fries again…there was no way he was going to waste any.
I am sure that some people do have their perceptions about street children...maybe they have been victims and are entitled to their opinion. But consider that not all street children are pick-pocketers, and not all know how to physcologically control what’s happening in their life as in their mind, they need to survive at any cost. The next time you see a street child, be it in your home country or another country, think twice. Consider what could be their circumstances and talk to them with an open and pure heart and you may be surprised to learn what you may. What they need is love and understanding.
