Showing posts with label children. Show all posts
Showing posts with label children. Show all posts

Thursday, November 25, 2010

A Thankful Haiku












Our thanks bestow on
the children of the world, who
teach us how to love…



I was fortunate enough to spend time with these wonderful children while visiting a Masai village in Kenya in 2006. Like youngsters everywhere, they were giggly, shy, curious and keen to be noticed.
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While families had little in the way of material possessions, the children were bursting with joy, eager to embrace the excitement each day brings. I was humbled by their spirit, and am still learning to be grateful for what I have, instead of pining for what I lack...

I am linking this post to Poets United Thursday Think Tank. This week's prompt is 'thanfulness', something we surely have in abundance. To see more poems about gratitude, do check out the link below:
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http://poetryblogroll.blogspot.com/2010/11/thursday-think-tank-25-thankfulness.html

Tuesday, September 21, 2010

International Peace Day 2010


Haiku for Peace
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'Neath skin dark or light
beats a heart that knows only
the colour of love...

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Children are the same the world over. The lively and curious youngsters I met in this African village in 2006 were kindred spirits to the giggling, rambunctious kids who frolicked through a shared childhood with my own offspring in Canada.
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To a child, each day is an adventure and life is always more about sharing than dividing. I propose this may be a recipe for serenity at any age...

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On this visit, one grinning young lad clasped onto my arms and would not let go. As he snuggled in close against me, I was reminded of my much-loved sons at that age, bursting as they were with the curious mixture of independence and affection that changed them from moment to moment as they grew into their own skin.
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How can it be that the complete acceptance we embrace in childhood so often dissipates by the time we reach adulthood?
I have not found the anwer to this question that so desperately needs explained. If we seekers of the world work together, is it not possible we may gain back the ability to trust and to share wholeheartedly? I have to believe it can be so.
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September 21st, 2010 is
International Peace Day.
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I am posting this haiku simultaneously here and on my other blog, Imagination Lane, to join my voice to the worldwide prayer that we may one day put an end to the madness of war...and that peace may then allow us to begin the long journey toward healing our fragile world.
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Let this peace be our bequest to the children of
today...and their promise for tomorrow.
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Namaste
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If you would like to know more about these wonderful youngsters, you might want to check out some earlier posts...

http://theimaginativetraveler.blogspot.com/2010/07/dreams-of-africa.html http://theimaginativetraveler.blogspot.com/2010/08/africas-true-treasure.html
http://theimaginativetraveler.blogspot.com/2010/07/giraffe-rescue-centre-kenya.html
http://theimaginativetraveler.blogspot.com/2010/07/forgotten-generation-aids-orphans-in.html

Thursday, August 5, 2010

Africa's True Treasure

Africa is a continent of great contrast. There is unimaginable beauty in its sweeping landscapes and soft, golden air.. and heartrending poverty evidenced by round-bellied youngsters on roadsides who stoically wait with hand outstretched to each passer-by who might offer sustenance of one sort or another.

Those children whose families can afford uniforms and fees fare better, and are able to attend school. They exit their modest dwellings, white shirts impeccable and heads high, to walk long distances on dusty roads to their classrooms.

Many clutch containers: their first job of the day is to collect the kerosene needed to fuel lamps and cooking stoves.
They eye us curiously as we pass by in our safari trucks, and so often offer a smile that's wider than the sky.


That smile is what I wish for every child, the simple joy of a day with enough to eat, and the chance to build a better life through education. While such things are a given for most children in North America, this is not the case in Sub-Saharan Africa. I've written previously of how AIDS/HIV, corruption and war are crippling families and depriving children of a future.

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It is estimated that fifteen million orphans in Africa struggle daily to get by without parents or support systems.
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Fifteen million...
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These beautiful children are the true treasures of the African continent. I never tire of looking at their eager faces...the expectation of children everywhere that the world will bring them joy and fulfillment.




We must make this a world that offers every child that hope.
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I am not brilliant..I do not know how to stop the government corruption that keeps aid money from getting to the needy..or
how to help forgotten orphans in far-flung villages who have lost their parents and
grandparents to AIDS and poverty..but I know I must do something.
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I went to Africa as a tourist after years of
dreaming I might. I saw beauty that left me breathles, and fell in love with its many joys..but nothing touched my heart so deeply as its children.




Children are our future. Whether here or on the other side of the world, they are our greatest treasure and our richest resource.
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My hope is that every child's face may shine with health and the anticipation of good things to come, no matter where they happen to live.
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Surely that's not too much to ask...is it?
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Thursday, July 22, 2010

The Young of Belfast

Though religious conflict was always a part of my childhood in Northern Ireland, it did not erupt into violence and death until after we had emigrated to Canada. From across the sea, I watched in horror as the Troubles escalated and families lost their children, their security and their way of life. I have always been grateful that I did not have to raise my sons in that state of oppression. My heart still breaks for the mothers who did, and who suffered horrendous loss because of it.
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I am not a poet, but was moved to write this piece in 1985 after watching yet another mother grieve for her son, his life now reduced to a headline on the evening news...

The Young of Belfast

Suckled on mistrust, the young of Belfast
learn early to hate.
They know fear from the first nervous clutch
of a mother's arms,
And anger from the stiff, defensive line
of a father's back.
Rage is their heritage; a birthright passed
on from generations
long nurtured on the feast of prejudice.
Through streets divided,
memory dogs their steps with practiced zeal.
Young mouths taunt...
Young hands hurl rocks in a battle that was
promised to them
long before they were born to wage it.
Children fight children
in imitation of hurts both real and unreal,
and childhood games
meld into the adult world of reality.
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More than bodies lie wasted in the struggle.
Dreams fall to ruin
beside innocence early vanquished;
and victory gained
only serves to lock the narrow cells of embittered minds
that shroud themselves in righteousness.
Good soldiers all,
the young of Belfast obey rules they
were not free to choose.
In this war of liberation, they have become
the true wounded...
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The photo above is one I took of the many murals still seen on walls throughout Belfast..grim reminders of a time when violence so easily conquered reason.

Monday, July 12, 2010

The Immigrant Experience

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Cameras played little part in my childhood. This is a rare, early photo of me with my brother Martin.
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I came to Canada as a child, caught up in the wave of hopefuls who fled Great Britain in the difficult years following WWII in search of a better life. Like many, circumstance forced me to adapt to a culture very different from my own. Such a move required courage and determination, and I lacked both at the start. Strange sights and sounds overwhelmed me. I longed to go back home, sure that I could never be happy here. Time proved me wrong and I adjusted to Canadian society with relative ease, building a good life among people who accepted me as one of their own. Even as a child, I recognized that my smooth integration differed markedly from that of other newcomers, particularly those whose ethnicity spoke out in the colour of their skin. I came to understand that the elitism facilitating my assimilation made sure others would remain forever on the outside, no matter how long they might live in their adoptive country.
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Bigotry darkened my childhood from birth. As Protestants in Northern Ireland, my parents charged me to hate Catholics...they were not our 'kind'. Exposed to Canada’s diverse range of cultural groups, my father developed a wide spectrum of racial slurs. One day, after listening to a vitriolic tirade about foreigners taking over the country, I reminded him timorously that we were not born here either. My father responded with raised eyebrows and imperialistic indignation, “Why, you cannot compare us to outsiders. After all, we're white..and we're British!” I understood that his specious logic was the only justification needed to vilify real foreigners. Helplessness silenced me, even as I sensed an underlying truth behind the arrogant words. I could not deny that my fair skin and Irish background influenced people to welcome me warmly. My old-world ways matched their preconceived notions and granted me easy access to where others were denied admittance.
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While many emigrants struggled to be understood, my Gaelic lilt guaranteed an instant smile. Given unaccustomed foods like hamburgers and pizza, the fact that I cut them up neatly with a knife and fork made adults beam approval at my manners. I never had to deal with disparaging remarks about what I ate or how the scent of that food lingered on my clothes. Although this high level of acceptance helped me adjust to my altered life, being singled out embarrassed me. I wished only to belong. With haste, I swapped my school blazer for flip-flops and became so fluent in the local vernacular that I looked and sounded exactly like my Canadian playmates. I knew this was not the case for those whose customs were more difficult to merge. Although I abandoned much to fit in, others gave up more for a smaller return.
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I no longer stand silent and condone exclusion based on stereotyping of any kind. If I judge someone, I will base that opinion on an individual’s contribution to society, not on a race or creed. In conversation, I seek words of tolerance and inclusion, regardless of accent. I am part of a cycle greater than my own life. This planet is my home and every inhabitant on it my brother or sister, forever linked to me by bonds of responsibility and compassion. I want to hear the stories they tell and embrace the differences that have shaped our diverse lives. Each one of us must reject apathy and actively make this a world wherein mercy and equality are the birthright of all people.
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That change begins with me.
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Saturday, July 10, 2010

The Forgotten Generation: AIDS Orphans in Africa


I wrote this essay for an anthropology course some years ago.

Little has changed for the better and the numbers quoted have escalated drastically...

An estimated fourteen million orphans throughout Africa live in poverty because AIDS took their parents’ lives; yet the globalization that opened up the world to many, has effectively cut these children off from the help they so desperately need. Without adequate food, health care and education, they cannot change their lives for the better, and stand little chance of survival. For 315 million Africans living on one dollar a day, resources are nearly impossible to access. Brand-name medicines are costly and without them, an entire generation of adults in the childbearing years is losing its fight with AIDS. Those orphaned by this disease must watch one, or both parents die a slow and agonizing death. Grandmothers take in their grandchildren whenever possible, and when the grandmothers die, the eldest child in a family becomes head of the household, looking after younger siblings. Penniless, parentless and forgotten, the orphans of Africa fall into obscurity, their needs unmet by the world, their futures devoid of promise.
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Child-headed families struggle daily to find food and shelter. Attending class is not an option; they cannot afford the mandatory user fees imposed by aid agencies; and even in countries where those fees are waived, the cost of books, supplies, and uniforms remains outside the reach of most. As a result, roughly 44 million children are excluded from primary education in Africa. Those without parents or teachers lose valuable access to the knowledge and tradition normally passed along from one generation to the next, and to the absorption of family and group values that provide children with confidence and a sense of place. World governing agencies agree that education is key to the survival of these vulnerable children; yet funds donated to local governments for use in health and education rarely reach their target. Budget cuts, corruption and mismanagement mean that up to 90 percent of the national budgets in some countries goes toward government salaries, leaving little else to cover the larger demands.
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Education and health care are equally hard-hit by international policies put in place with good intent that still miss their mark. A loan to Africa by a body such as the World Bank often comes with binding conditions. This impacts medical care when severe pay restrictions and hiring policies force many health-care professionals to seek work on other continents. Additionally, AIDS takes not only the lives of Africa’s mothers and fathers, but those of its doctors, nurses and teachers, leaving in its wake a modicum of trained personnel to cope with the millions of families affected by the disease. Mass privatization of resources dictates that only brand-name drugs be used, and patent restrictions prohibit the development of generic medicine that would be a fraction of the cost. Many orphans left behind are themselves HIV-infected: 90 percent of all children with the virus contract it from their mother at birth. A single dose of a drug called nevirapine given to the mother in labour and to the child at birth, along with a Caesarean delivery and formula feeding, lowers the risk of passing on the virus to less than 2 per cent. Even if the drug was more affordable, limited access to health facilities means that 700,000 African children are still born infected each year to potentially become the next generation leaving its orphans behind.
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The African continent has serious economic and social issues to address. Eradicating AIDS remains its main challenge, because while this disease continues to spread uncontrolled, it compromises every other aspect of development. Following decades of colonialism, sub-Saharan countries struggle to take their place among the family of democratic nations. Debt, corruption, and tyranny have left much of the continent crippled with overwhelming debt. Resources generated by global governance are often mismanaged, rarely translating into improved infrastructure or technological development that would facilitate Africa’s move toward self-sufficiency. In the midst of widespread machination, the plight of AIDS orphans escapes notice.
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Tucked away in villages far from main roads, bereft at the loss of parents and grandparents, families of small children are malnourished, lonely and afraid. Their needs appear simple; yet remain well beyond any chance of attainment. As well as education and health care, providing basic resources like water, nutrition, sanitation, and instruction on the tending of small crops would drastically improve the lot of these youngsters and offer them the chance of a future. Most African countries do not have a tradition of orphanages in the Western sense we have come to understand. Family and community once formed a safety net to care for orphaned children, but AIDS has ripped away this net and destroyed village life, as it was known. We must make constructive resources available to these children if they are to build new communities, forge lasting connections, and develop the means to get on with their lives.
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Twenty-five years into the pandemic that has ravaged the African continent, there is still no master plan in place to help its orphans, in spite of global efforts to improve finance, health care and education. The chaos created by this disease has gone on so long that the original orphans are now adults, who risk the same fate as their parents because they lack information and services that would help them to make safe choices. For children orphaned by AIDS, schooling is vital. Beyond its traditional role, a school is a centre for immunization, for meal programs, and for much-needed education on HIV/AIDS. Without primary education, children cannot go on to university or acquire the trade skills needed to support themselves as adults. The wealth of creativity, intelligence and innovation these resourceful young people might contribute is beyond measure; tapping that potential may be the best tool in reshaping the future of their continent and the upcoming generations who will inherit its problems.
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Stephen Lewis tells us pointedly...“Allowing world economic problems to be taken out on the growing minds and bodies of young children is the antithesis of all civilized behaviour” and “it shames and diminishes us all”. Africa is a continent wherein children are raising children. If the world has become a global village, these are our children in this new extended family, and they need our help to learn to help themselves. Their lives are in our hands now; we cannot, and must not, let them down.
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Friday, July 9, 2010

Dreams of Africa

What do you want most in the world? What dream sustains you through the everyday, and promises so much joy and satisfaction that you quiver just at the notion of this possibility coming to pass?


As a child growing up in Belfast, my dreams were of Africa. The drab, sparse streets of industrial Northern Ireland were so far removed from the endless sky and rolling grasslands of Kenya to be found in books that my soul was captivated from the start. Eventually, my family emigrated to the West Coast of Canada, putting even more space between me and my heart’s desire.
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But the dream to see Africa stayed with me. When a chance came in 2006 to make the trip of nine thousand miles to Nairobi, I was warned by well-meaning friends that the reality of the continent could not possibly live up to my decades of anticipation. How wrong they were...

Africa was every bit as magnificent as I knew it would be. I embraced it eagerly...the boundless savannah...the spacious skies...and, of course, the beautiful, glowing children. The shy smiles of youngsters we met in a Masai village is something I call to mind often. It is a memory that never fails to fill me with joy and wonderment.


I have a new dream now...to return to Africa,
this time not to take
but to give back. The chasm between the 'haves' and
'have-nots' looms large in that continent ravaged by AIDS,
mismanagement and corruption. I have taken Africa to my heart,
now I must act on my heart's desire to help. It will not be
this year...it may not be next..but I will return one day to
the Africa of my dreams...