"When Invisible Children Sing" by Dr. Chi Huang
A Response – by Deanna Neustaedter
As I read Dr. Chi’s book, When Invisible Children Sing, I was reminded vividly of my experiences in Botswana. When the children reminded Dr. Chi over and over again that all they wanted from him was for him to walk with them, to listen, to be there for them, it was an echo of what the children, youth and adults I’ve worked with have said to me. In our humanness, we want to fix the problems presented to us: Mercede’s emotional damage that led her to cut herself; Gabriel’s memories that led him to sniff paint thinner; Rosa’s life situation that led her to be born to a family that lived on the streets for three generations.
Sometimes we can help ‘fix’ part of the problem by providing food, a job, a new pair of shoes, but sometimes all we can do is just to ‘be’ with them, love them and not judge them. Dr. Chi’s story of his walk with these children tugs at my heart and leaves me wanted to do something, wanting to get back ‘out there’–forgetting that ‘out there’ is here in Canada, here in Abbotsford, and that to make a difference in someone’s life means to walk with them in the here and now.
Living in North America, I think we (or at least some of us) forget that the majority of the world does not live this way. The majority of the world lives in some state of poverty–whether financial, educational, or emotional. It is so easy to forget–to tune out, to ignore it when you see it in the schools or in your own family. It is so easy to spout out easy solutions to the problem: "Why don’t they just get a job and get off the street?" "Why doesn’t the government do something about this?" "If I give them some money they will just spend it on alcohol or drugs."
I think if we are honest, we have all thought something like this at one point or other. Having lived in Botswana, Africa for three years, working in the poorest area of the capital city, Gaborone, I saw poverty. I worked with people who supported their family on $250 CDN per month, in an economy where food costs just as much as it does here in Canada. I was asked for money on average once a day for the whole of three years. I sometimes felt that I must have a sign on the back of my shirt or on my forehead that read, "Bank of Botswana." Because I was a ‘volunteer service worker,’ I forgot that I was richer than the majority of them. I didn’t have to wonder where my next meal was coming from or where I would sleep that night.
Dr. Chi’s account of how the street children looked after him reminded me of an incident in Gaborone when some of the Old Naledi street boys approached me in the parking lot of the grocery store to ask me for some money. Once they recognized me from Old Naledi, from the feeding project that ran out of the school grounds, they didn’t ask for money. Instead, they just wanted to talk. As we were talking, another boy started to come over. He was dirty, and carried a brown paper bag. He was drooling and had a vacant look in his eyes. The boys told me I should go now because the ‘crazy one’ was coming. "He has sniffed too much glue," they told me. That these ten and twelve year olds would be concerned about my safety… shouldn’t I be looking after them? Shouldn’t I be the one saving them? Dr. Chi’s book has left me with more questions than answers and more of a desire to get off the couch. It doesn’t take a plane ride to find a child or adult who is hurting and needs someone to love them.
After three years as an educator in Botswana, Deanna Neustaedter has returned to the lower mainland of British Columbia, Canada, where she continues caring and teaching in the school system.