søndag 22. november 2009

When it gets darkest the stars come out

I hit the wall. Hard. I was running really fast and I didn’t see it. I didn’t notice that there was actually a wall there. A limit. A limit of things I could take. I had to stop.  Stop there in that very moment and just think. Something told me that I had to do it. Just think about things, about the point of everything. Think about what I was doing, and if I was doing it right or not. – If there was actually a point to it at all.

Too many things happened that day. Way to many things. Actually the two days before as well. It was like a mountain of experiences, a really big one. It was too many emotions, too many destinies and too many defeats.

I stared out into nowhere. Into the air I was breathing in. I sat on a bench there in the hospital.  The hospital I had visited too many times, but this time was totally different. I sat on a different bench than before. A bench no one would prefer to sit on, as long as they’re not obliged to do so. The silence was almost impossible to bear, and impossible to understand. I didn’t say anything to break it even though I wanted, but I couldn’t do it.  I just couldn’t. He was quiet and I was quiet, but he was there on the other side. On the side I couldn’t follow. He, 18 years old, left the street. He was now resting in peace, there on the other side, on the other side of the door.

I started walking away from the bench, slowly, then through a small ally, through the hall and out on the street. The silence was replaced with the eternal noise of the street. People walked by doing whatever they was doing. Living their lives, their own lives, thinking about their own problems. They were passing by without knowing that one child that they’ve been calling a dog and a thief, was now gone. Gone forever.

At that moment everything seemed dark, but then I started to think about something that happened two days before.

I visited an intersection where I’ve been working with a group of children for about one month. A group of about five children from 10 to 13 years old. It’s been really hard. Really hard work.  All of these children started to work on the street about two months ago, and they started bit by bit to spend more time on the street than at home.  My work has been to be there, trying to motivate them not to stay on the street.  It’s been very difficult at times, and for some time their situation seemed worse every single day. But this day things changed.  The whole group wanted to leave the street. At least for some time, and I went with the whole group to a place where they could sleep. It was a big step, actually a huge step, a lot bigger than you think. It was a step in the right direction, against a future that is going to be different.  They will probably leave the home and return several times, but it’s the reality here. It will take a lot of work. From them and from us, but I believe it will work. I believe their destiny will change in some way or another, but the most important thing is that hope really increased that day.

It is when it gets darkest that the stars come out.

"A friendship out of the ordinary"

"Bicycles at home"

2 kommentarer:

John Fredrik sa...

Godt skrevet Svenn, goey aa foelge deg.

Plutselig dukker vi opp i Santa Cruz.

siv iren sæle sa...

Jeg var act now student i 2004/2005 i Santa Cruz! Så gøy å lese om dine opplevelser! Jeg skal tilbake til Bolivia (sucre) i januar, og gleder meg til å se noen kjente barnefjes igjen:) Jobbet du i aldeaen i santa rita som act-nower? Hilsen siv iren