From an early age, I knew that I belonged to my mom and dad. My parents like to tell of an incident that happened when I was around two years old.
After a failed attempt to secure a
babysitter, my parents braved to take me shopping. New Year celebrations were around the corner, so the shopping malls were hustling and bustling with people.
The first store
they had walked into happened to be a toy store. To their dismay, the center
arrangement of the store was a beautifully arranged baby doll. The clerk
managed to grab the doll and show a demonstration of its functions. The doll had
many tricks: it made a loud noise, it closed and opened its eyes, and it had
moving arms and legs!
All of a sudden, my
parents heard a distressed voice that said in Russian “Gde tvoya mama?”
meaning, “Where is your mom?” The store became quiet. In horror my parents
realized that I was no longer beside them. I had managed to escape from my parents
and was now standing by the sales clerk pointing to the doll and screaming
from top of my lung: ”MAMA, MAMA!”
Like a lioness
protecting her cub, my mom jumped across the room pushing and shoving people
left and right. In a moment, she was right beside me and hastily took me in her arms.
Of course the story doesn’t end with the rescue. When I didn’t stop shouting and pointing to the doll “MAMA, MAMA!”, my mother realized that I was calling the doll mama. My poor parents quickly paid a hefty sum for the doll and left the store in a hurry.
Of course the story doesn’t end with the rescue. When I didn’t stop shouting and pointing to the doll “MAMA, MAMA!”, my mother realized that I was calling the doll mama. My poor parents quickly paid a hefty sum for the doll and left the store in a hurry.
Every child longs for
protection, acceptance, love, and sometimes even longs to be spoiled. However, not every child is lucky to have
parents who care, love, and hug. Even worse, not every child has a place that they
can call home.
Reportedly,there are between 3,700-4,000 street children in Mongolia (UNICEF report of 2003) 1,200 of them live on the streets of my hometown of Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia.
These children are known to locals as "sewer" children. The "sewer" children go without food, warm clothes, and schooling. Similarly, they go without
human touch, care, and love.
Let me introduce you to two of my friends. They are Sharaa and Namiraa. They are "sewer" children.
Let me introduce you to two of my friends. They are Sharaa and Namiraa. They are "sewer" children.
This is Sharaa. Sharaa is his street name. Sharaa means
“yellow.” He is 11 years old. He has been roaming the streets of Ulaanbaatar for
the last three years. He loves soccer. He loves stir-fry. He wants to be a
policeman. He sings on the street to beg for money that he uses to support
himself and his sewer family that consists of other children his age. Sharaa
has a beautiful voice, but he doesn’t dream of becoming a famous singer. He
dreams of a home. Home where his parents and his siblings can surround him.
Home where he can get hugs, bedtime stories, off to school kisses, and feel
that he belongs to someone.
This
is Namiraa. She is 13 years old. She lives in a world that she has created for
herself on the pages of her sketchbook. She is an artist. Namiraa draws everything that she feels and dreams on pages
of her sketchbook. Too often, however, her reality is too harsh and too unfair. As a consequence, she would rather live in
her dreams then in reality. In her scketches, she has designed her wedding gown dotted by white roses. Her
wedding dress will be a masterpiece. Because of her difficult circumstances, Namiraa has learned not to trust anyone! She
hardly talks to people and shies away from direct eye contact. The picture above was a rare exception. She is timid and
soft spoken. Her favorite food is Mongolian dumplings. When I ask her what she
would like to do when she grows up, she simply told me that she would like to
be a famous designer. Then she showed me
her sketches, which made me cry, realizing that her spirit is alive.
Her spirit is radiant. She suffers hunger, physical pain, abuse, and
mistreatment daily living on the streets. However, no one could kill
her desire for greatness, for light, for love. I believe that she will marry one day. She will
look beautiful in her wedding dress. She will succeed. How many 11 and 13 year olds do you know who are living on the streets and in the sewers? How many 11 and 13 year olds do you know who have been discarded like rags by their parents, or abused physically, sexually, verbally, and mentally?
Well, now you know two of them: Sharaa and Namiraa.
To help children like Sharaa and Namiraa visit www.care4kidsworldwide.org or contact me at nara@care4kidsworldwide.org
