Child Labor

In my previous post I spoke about personal tragedies and awe-inspiring courage. Is it a strange coincidence then that I should coem across two intriguing stories a few hours later.

The first one was about Sarah Kruzan, a 16 yr old, African American child in CA, USA, who was sentenced to life in prison without parole because she killed her pimp. The guy who raped and sold her to others. Fascinating and absolutely disgusting sometimes, the world we live in. I am not going to ignore the fact that there may be nuances of this case that need to be closely studied, but my understanding of the justice system is that it's always about the intention. Was it malicious, was it self-defense and so on. This case seems to have an awful lot of loopholes for it to be have been neglected as such. The 16 year old child is now a 29 year old woman who has spent 13 years of her life in prison. Do you ever stand to wonder how lucky you are to have the support of your family and friends?

The second one is about child labor - specifically the irony of children in India who labor to make balloons so that our children in USA and other 'developed' countries can enjoy them at various celebrations. This story in pictures of 6 year old children in India struggling in horrendous conditions is heart-breaking. Although I have some serious concerns about the way a Texas Middle School went about teaching their students about child labor, I cannot close my eyes to the atrocities that occur in the world. I think a simulated lesson will make everyone including you and me more aware of such cruelty. Do you ever stop to think about the child whose ahnds are rubbed raw trying to create that balloon you are holding in your hand?

terrified innocence...

..my latest ramblings in the midst of an unwittingly entertaining financial accounting class, late Monday afternoon :)

Terrified innocence...

Terror on their faces
they huddle under the tarp
holding hands they tremble
children with tears in their eyes

Shrieks heard all around
as each one grows louder
they cringe and huddle closer
seeming to shrink as one

A river of blood
drenches the street under their feet
Their tears seem insurmountable...
All they want is the comfort of home.

A simple day
enjoyable in its simplicity
turned monstrous in a second
their innocence lost and peace shattered.

Running feet are all they see,
people screaming obscenities as they pass by
They retreat into themselves
muting the terror and the noise.

Mute eyes, clenched fists,
tears pour down their innocent faces
as they stare at the ignonimity
of being a child mute with terror.

A brief whimper
from the younger of the two...
quickly hushed by the older,
fear of recognition alive anew...

They hope it wasn't heard
by the brutes outside...
The wall their only friend
in a world suddenly gone awry.

Footsteps come thundering by...
and stops an inch from them...motionless they freeze
someone peeps under the tarp
and they scream in mutuality

Is it a friend?
Is it their family?
Is it a foe?
Do they live to know?

Innocence lost, terror their acquaintance
Does it matter if they live
When live in fear they always will...
Not for us to judge, the value of their life.

Children, our hope for tomorrow
Our innocence and our inspirations
their glow of immeasurable brightness
snatched away from us in a moment of terror...

By Angela Archana Vincent - 5.20pm Monday October 20th, 2008.

Lest we forget...

Yesterday, my dad and I went to see Rambo 4 (I think), and in the movie we were taken to Burma, the civil war there, and how the army ambushes villagers, kidnaps their children, kill the men and rape the women. The movie is full of blood and gore, unsuitable for young children, but thought provoking if we question certain aspects of the movie.

I know abductions, rape, child soldiers and honor killings are a fact of life..an unpleasant fact, which most North Americans pretend to ignore. But that movie yesterday, fictional maybe, but it brought forth something important to me..Remembering those who suffer.

Today, my dad and I watched a BBC documentary on Auschwitz, and how 1.3M people were sent to that camp in 4.5 years and 1.1M were killed. Of them about 200,000 were children. A survivor was almost in tears as she recognized her aunt and 4 cousins in a photograph taken minutes before they were sent to the crematorium. The children ranged from 2 - 10.....Remembering those who are brutalized.

A few minutes ago, I read this, an article about child soldiers in Uganda, Rwanda, Columbia and other war ridden countries. The author uses a byline "Lest we forget"....something I feel is very important in counteracting these acts of crime, war, terror and inhumane brutalization.

In our busy lives, we juggle work, families, friends, colleagues, our kids schedules, our finances, and so much more, and we think our lives are hard. Maybe our life is hard, for us, in this little world we can view. But if we look at the bigger picture, rather if we consider the gargantuan struggles faced by these individuals, children and adults alike, we look and sound like morons. Yet, what do we do when we hear about 15 year old girls abducted from their homes, raped repeatedly, forced to bear children and then fight in a civil war? We feel terribly burdened, maybe for a few hours, we feel indignant and angry, and then we go back to our normal and sane lives. In short, we do nothing. Sometimes, it's rather burdensome to even consider that you and I, ordinary people, can do something about it. Maybe we can..I am doing what seemed like an idea to me..Lest we forget...

I find that the most inhumane thing which could happen to these survivors, is being forgotten. Nothing hurts as much as being forgotten. Their struggles, their strength, their unbroken spirit, their stories - when we forget the events, their cries for help, and their courage, we are no better than the insipid idiots who were responsible for these war crimes...Lest we forget.

Tonight, I cannot forget and refuse to do so..In my own tiny way, this is my homage to those warriors who were forced to survive, and to those who gave up their lives, so that others may survive....children, men, women, jews, gypsies, asians, africans, native americans, mexicans, columbians, indians, army, navy and airforces, abused women and children, gang war victims, and everyone else I did not mention...I remember..

Lest we forget....

brutality..a new and intimate form

For the last few weeks, the headlines in Canada have been focussed on the Pickton trial, where a pig farmer kidnapped, brutalized and murdered so many women in Western Canada. He was found guilty earlier this week, and the newscast was inundated with the faces of the victim's families and their emotional response to the verdict.

Today, however, I read this story, of an Indian man brutalizing and kiling his wife. Atleast in the Pickton trial, I could say, the man was a maniac, unknown to the victims, and a psychopath. What can be said about a husband, who cuts his wife's tongue, tries to burn her, and then drags off to the crematorium to burn her alive on a pyre, while she screams and begs for water. This event does not have an ending - the polica arrived in time to rush the woman to the hospital where she died, but the man and his family, who helped him torture this innocent woman have 'absconded'. What does that mean? With the status of women and the police in India, it could well mean, that they all, somehow, managed to escape the police's clutches, or that he is a local big-wig, and everyone is covering up his crime. Injustice seems almost common and trivial when stories such as these are never heard or acknowledged.

Brutality and torture, when we experience these from those we love and trust, I would think that betrayal would be worse than anything else we can feel or imagine...