Street Boys Strike Again

After visiting Mon Ami for a drink, Karen, Parem and I walk to the bank so Karen can use the ATM. It is almost dark and the street boys are out in full force. They all wear shorts and shirts so old they're dark grey. The boys are dirty and usually barefoot and when they see white people, they latch on and ask for money. I usually stop and buy bananas for them, which they get very excited about, but even buying the bananas is tricky because when two or three boys are around a white person, all the other boys coming running. Soon it's mayhem. So I buy two boys bananas and am saying “no” to a third boy (it kills me to have a cut-off point, when I have to say "no" to a new boy who has just run up. These boys are, after all, only children and how can they understand why their friends get bananas and they don't?!) when Walter comes up behind us.

Karen, Parem and I have been collecting boys as we walk and so I introduce Walter to Karen and Parem over the heads of several boys. Walter naturally puts his arms around the boys, as though he's going to take them home with him. He's on the street this evening to counsel the boys. Walter tells me he had a long talk with the owner who donated the land for the Pamba Zuko building. Everything's in place for progress. We agree to meet next week to discuss the next construction phase of putting on the roof. But the street boys are really collecting around and letting off some energy, making it hard to hold a conversation. One boy, about 12-years-old, is walking behind with a friend and he is crying. Tears roll and his breath comes in jags. We pull him into our circle and Walter learns someone hit the boy on the head and he has a severe headache. Walter is rubbing his head and Karen holds my backpack so I can dig out Panadol, the local pain reliever. Parem pulls his flashlight from his backpack and looks into the boy's eyes for a long time. Everything looks okay, Parem says, and hopefully the pain relievers will work on his headache.

But it is rather hectic, with about 20 boys hovering around, some still asking Parem and Karen for money. I smell glue and find two boys in front of me holding their glue bottles to their noses. I point them out to Walter and the boys hide the bottles under their shirts. It's obvious having three white people on the street is creating more confusion than it's helping, so Walter tells us we can go. It's easier for him to calm them down without us around. He's then able to talk with them calmly. So we walk on to the bank and return about 15 minutes later. As we pass on the opposite side of the street, we see Walter talking with the boys. Karen comments on how impressed she is with Walter's handling of the boys. Parem says he is impressed with Walter, too. I've always admired Walter's outlook and the way he cares about the boys on the street. Seeing him work, and hearing Karen and Parem's positive reaction, simply reaffirms my commitment to working with Pamba Zuko and Walter.