On our way home from dinner at a friend’s home, I experienced a situation which left me with mixed emotions. Tara, Gabriella and I managed to take the last dalla dalla of the night into town, and from there we were going to grab a taxi to take us back to our house. The dalla dalla dropped us off in town, and we were about a block or two away from the hotel that taxis wait outside of. We always try to travel in the day time for safety reasons, but because of the location of the dalla dalla stop we had to walk a short distance to get a taxi. On our way to the Gold Crest Hotel, we passed by a large group of street children. At first they were in a standing huddle, but as we passed by, they spread out to surround us and started following us while asking for money. Since I have been in Mwanza, many people have warned me to be careful of the street kids at night because they will try to rob you, especially if you are alone. I’ve learned some common tricks used to steal money, so I was very alert, and made sure not to get distracted while I held onto my bag. The kids followed us down the street, and there were about ten of them. I was pretty nervous. I don’t think that they would have done anything harmful (other than try to take our belongings), but I was still really uncomfortable being followed by a group of street kids through town, in the dark. We crossed the street and made it to the hotel, where we got our favourite cab driver to take us home.
So, my initial feelings were fearful and nervous. But once we got into the cab and I had a sense of security, I was overcome with another emotion; I was upset. I started thinking about the street kids and processed the fact that these kids were most likely orphans, or children who, for one reason or another, couldn’t go back to their home. They might have been abused or neglected in the past. Maybe they didn’t have a home they could go to. Some of the kids looked as young as nine years old. I cannot even begin to imagine being nine years old and having to try to fend for myself and survive on the street. I can’t blame these kids for wanting money, or stealing to get it – their life situation pushed them into that lifestyle.
Later on in the week I was doing sprints and a resistance training workout in the soccer field near my home, and some of the local kids were watching. After laughing at me for quite some time, a bunch of the kids started copying me, and it more or less turned into a gym class I was running unintentionally “Pushups, ishirini! (20) Tunakimbia! (Run).” These kids were so fun and I had such a laugh working out with them.
I’m mentioning these kids in the soccer field because they were roughly the same age as the street kids I had encountered, and were in a similarly sized group. However, they have had the opportunity to be children. They can play and go home to their parents (many of who were watching us workout in the field). These kinds of lifestyle differences are what tug at my heart. Why did one group of kids end up with one situation, while the other group are living alone in a city, trying to get whatever money they can to survive? The same can be said for all different situations. Why was I fortunate to have a university education, when some kids don’t even go to elementary school? Why am I lucky enough to get to travel? Why is no one in my immediate family sick, when so many others I know have been surrounded with illness and death in their families? Even on this trip I have experienced two friends who have lost their parents. And on this trail of questions, there are so many more, with answers that I don’t think will ever satisfy me.
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