Imagine yourself as
a child. Imagine that you were born in poverty but that’s
ok because you have your mommy and daddy to protect and hold
you. Imagine that you are now old enough to walk. Your
parents give you a small box and a rag to go out and shine
shoes. They make you go out on the streets to earn money,
but that’s ok because you need to help your parents, after
all you love them. You love them with the unconditional
love of a child. You work all day then come home. Imagine
your daddy yelling at you because you didn’t make enough
money today. So you start working more, you get up early
and come home late at night. You work all day but you still
don’t make enough money for daddy, who needs it to buy his
alcohol. You know daddy needs his alcohol. You know you
must be a bad kid, you know you must not work hard enough
for your parents. You know you must deserve to be punished,
you know you must deserve it when you are beaten, and hurt,
and yelled at. After all, you know daddy really needs the
money, he needs his alcohol, and that if you earn enough
money your parents will be happy, and will love you, and
then everything will be ok. You know that your only purpose
right now is to work, that is all you are good for, that is
all that you are worth. But if you work hard enough you
will be worth more and your parents will be happy. All you
want is a happy family, that is your only dream. You dream
this dream every night.
Imagine yourself as a child. You are now about
eight years old. Imagine you have had enough. You’re so
tired of being beaten and working all day for what you now
realize are your uncaring parents. You know happiness is
just a dream, and dreams are a waste of time. Imagine that
you are a child whose ability to dream has been crushed,
completely destroyed. You are a child who cannot dream,
after all, dreams are for fools.
So you leave, you don’t come home one night, you
never return home. You find others like yourself, other
children who’ve had enough. One of them hands you a bag, in
the bag is a small amount of a familiar substance. It is
glue. Your new friend lifts the bag to your face. You
inhale. All of a sudden you feel sick, then your head
starts to swim. But suddenly something happens, something
wonderful, suddenly you can’t remember your pain, you forget
all your sorrows, all because of this wonderful, magical
little bag. You want more, you need more! Imagine yourself
as a child, a pre-teen, and now you are addicted to getting
high by inhaling the magical fumes given off by this
wonderful glue.
Imagine yourself as a child. As a child growing up
on the streets. You live off whatever scraps of food you
can find or steal. You feel the pain of hunger in your
stomach all the time now. This pain is with you always,
during the day, during the night, always.
Sometimes you earn a little money, sometimes you
just steal it. You are so hungry, but you need what little
money you have for either alcohol or more glue. You need to
be high nearly all the time so you can forget your pain, so
you can forget your suffering, so you can forget your
sadness. You need it to forget the shame you have from
selling your body. You need it to forget that you are
barely a teenager. You need it to forget, that this is your
life.
Now imagine this, imagine you live in a world of
fear. You and your gang, you don’t get along with the other
gangs. You and your gang often get in fights with other
gangs. You don’t always want to fight; the other gang is
made up of other kids just like you. Kids who are scared,
just like you. Kids who are hungry, just like you. Kids
who are alone, just like you. But you fight them anyway,
you fight for the good of your gang, you fight because the
older leaders of your gang tell you to fight. You fight
with your fists. You fight with pieces of glass, broken
bottles. Sometimes you fight kids with knives. It isn’t
long before your young body is covered with long, deep, ugly
scars. You fight hard, you watch your best friend fight a
kid much bigger than him. Something goes wrong. You now
hold your friend’s limp body in your arms. You watch and
feel him die. But it doesn’t matter, by now death is normal
for you. At least he won’t have to suffer anymore. As for
yourself, you can always get high to forget about him, to
forget your pain.
Imagine yourself as a child. A child who’s afraid
of the dark. You’re not afraid of monsters or other scary
creatures of the night. You’re afraid of something even
more frightening. You are afraid of the police. You’re not
afraid of jail, you’ve been there. You are afraid of what
they will do to you. You know these officers aren’t on
their official duty. They are doing their other, part-time
job. Imagine you know the rich people and the store owners
don’t like you. They don’t want you eating their scraps or
dirtying up their streets. You know that they have a
plan to clean you up off the streets. Imagine that you know
they have hired many police officers to carry out their
plan. You know they are looking for you. You know they are
going to chase you, and beat you. You know they might take
you out of town. You know when they do they will rape you,
and torture you. You know they are going to put their
police-issued guns to the back of your head. Imagine you
know…you know they are not just trying to scare you. You
know there is a field outside of town. You know this field
is full of holes. You know what these holes are. You know
they are pre-dug graves. You know one is waiting for you.
You feel the gun pressed against the back your head.
Imagine the cold, hard, dark steel against you skin.
Imagine the police officers hot breath, their laughter, the
pleasure they have with their special part-time jobs. You
know that bullets are cheap. You know they are well-paid.
You know…the trigger will be pulled.
Imagine yourself as a child. You are worthless,
you are garbage, you are just a pest. Pests can be
exterminated. Pests will be exterminated. You
will be exterminated by the society that tries to forget
you, that abandoned you.
You can’t get help. No one cares about you.
Nobody shows you any love. Nobody loves you. You don’t
even know what love is. You are alone…you are alone. You
are born, you suffer, you die. Imagine that is all you
know. Imagine that is all you experience. Imagine that
there is nothing else.
Imagine yourself as a child, a child of the
streets. A street kid. A street kid fighting for survival
in the cities and towns. A street kid fighting for survival
on the deadly streets of Brazil.
Stop imagining. Look around you. Look at your life. Look
at your family, they love you and care for you. Look at
your friends, they are there for you, and won’t abandon you
in your most troubled times. Look at your police officers,
they will always protect you, your only fear of the police
is the fear of a ticket. That fear is insignificant Look
at your streets, they are friendly to you. You can take
everything for granted. You don’t have to live in a world of
pain. You don’t have to live in a world of fear. You are
so lucky.
But not everyone is so lucky. Many children in
Brazil live the life you just imagined. They live in a
world of suffering. They live in a world of pain. They
live in a world of hunger. They live in a world of fear.
They live in a world of death. This is the life of
thousands in Brazil. Many more live this way all over the
world. This is their reality. This is part of our reality,
so often we forget, or choose to ignore it. Why should we
care? We should care because this is the reality of the
real world, our world.
