We had a bit of an issue with our kids in the vocational training program because although they were turning up for class and are generally awesome enthusiastic lovely kids, they were falling asleep.Catnaps, yawns, plain falling over with exhaustion.
It turns out their parents had, as agreed, stopped sending the kids off to collect 'ajah' - recycleable rubbish from the roadside and dumps, during the day so the kids could come for training.
They sent them out at night instead.
The girls were exhausted, scared because of course ajah collecting at night is a lot more dangerous in a badly-lit crime-ridden city, and not one of the parents had approached us about this. Nor had the girls. It was just how things are. The girls didn't want to lose the chance at training, the parents saw it as a double-win for them.
I remember going to visit one family were the girl was so exhausted, she'd just fallen asleep in a hammock with her baby brother cradled up to her. A string hammock slung under one of the slum shacks, garbage all around, and she was too tired to do more than open her eyes at the visitors and go back to sleep.
We're incredibly reluctant to hand cash over because most of the parents will spend it unproductively, especially with abuse and addiction problems. But we had to figure out a way to get the parents to agree to give up the US$30-US$60 a month these girls might earn risking themselves each night.
What we've come up with is the Food Box. Twice a week, the girls receive a bundle of dry foods (no fridges or real storage space) that make up US$10 value each week. They're the basics - rice, fish sauce, iodized salt, onions, washing powder and so on, and because the family doesn't have to buy them anymore, they have more disposable income, as if we had given them cash. But this way at least, we know the kids are getting fed a little better.
Sometimes I just want to grab these sweet bright kids and bundle them off to a lovely boarding house with three big meals and art lessons and their own wardrobes and - they deserve so much. It's hard to take a deep breath and say 'only this much', because we're working for the whole community and we have so few resources to share among them.
Then I look at my own teenage daughter and think of the huge social safety net I have - government services, clean water, education, friends and family able and willing to help. It's always a tough call.
We called in all the parents, visited the half that didn't turn up! and got them to agree explicitly to no child labour (domestic chores don't count). We're asking the local authorities to keep an eye on them as well, because none of the girls in the slums should be going out at night, there've just been too many incidents.
They sent them out at night instead.
The girls were exhausted, scared because of course ajah collecting at night is a lot more dangerous in a badly-lit crime-ridden city, and not one of the parents had approached us about this. Nor had the girls. It was just how things are. The girls didn't want to lose the chance at training, the parents saw it as a double-win for them.
I remember going to visit one family were the girl was so exhausted, she'd just fallen asleep in a hammock with her baby brother cradled up to her. A string hammock slung under one of the slum shacks, garbage all around, and she was too tired to do more than open her eyes at the visitors and go back to sleep.
We're incredibly reluctant to hand cash over because most of the parents will spend it unproductively, especially with abuse and addiction problems. But we had to figure out a way to get the parents to agree to give up the US$30-US$60 a month these girls might earn risking themselves each night.
What we've come up with is the Food Box. Twice a week, the girls receive a bundle of dry foods (no fridges or real storage space) that make up US$10 value each week. They're the basics - rice, fish sauce, iodized salt, onions, washing powder and so on, and because the family doesn't have to buy them anymore, they have more disposable income, as if we had given them cash. But this way at least, we know the kids are getting fed a little better.
Sometimes I just want to grab these sweet bright kids and bundle them off to a lovely boarding house with three big meals and art lessons and their own wardrobes and - they deserve so much. It's hard to take a deep breath and say 'only this much', because we're working for the whole community and we have so few resources to share among them.
Then I look at my own teenage daughter and think of the huge social safety net I have - government services, clean water, education, friends and family able and willing to help. It's always a tough call.
We called in all the parents, visited the half that didn't turn up! and got them to agree explicitly to no child labour (domestic chores don't count). We're asking the local authorities to keep an eye on them as well, because none of the girls in the slums should be going out at night, there've just been too many incidents.
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