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Published: September 2nd 2011
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the dog
that howls when the students sing the anthem It just seems so strange to me: parents working, selling clothing, shoes, makeup, fried chicken feet and gizzards, the child asleep on the floor beside them, on a cardboard mat. Picture this child, sometimes a couple more, with untamed dogs running around, circling the hot plate in hopes of catching a small piece of grizzle that accidentally falls from the burner.
Every day biking to school, I see children. Many are on their way to school but many are on their way to work or are already working. Early mornings and late evenings make a long hard day of work; but what is the alternative? That is the problem: these young Burmese kids are living a reality that means they do not have another choice. They had but two choices when their families decided to flee Burma: to stay in an unsafe, politically troubled and dangerously repressed country risking safety and sanity or to leave for a foreign neighbouring country with new customs and new culture. Roughly 2 million Burmese have migrated to Thailand leaving their lives, their families and their hearts with an undying hope that one day they will be able to return home to a new life
girls
leaving the school and a democratic country.
While I bike to and from my school, there are faces I recognize and pass on a regular basis. I don't ever stop, but every day I catch a glimpse of one particular child’s face – or half of his face at least. He is maybe 12 years old, maybe, and works fusing pieces of metal together. If you've ever seen a welder at work, you may have noticed the masks they wear to protect their eyes; you may have noticed the thick coveralls they wear to protect their skin, and the heavy boots that cover their feet – steal toed and strong. This boy is crouched down wearing athletic shorts and mismatched flip flops. He holds a piece of glass over his face with one hand and the blinding blue flame in the other hand and focuses his eyes on the work before him.
I don't know this boy’s name, where he is from or how old he is, but I know he is a child – with a small frame, soft face and fingers that barely fit around the handle of the blow torch. Each day that I pass this shop, I
want to stop and steal this child from this blinding flame and remove the apparent protective scrap of glass. The work he does is blinding him from seeing all that he is being robbed of as a child: His freedom to run and play, fall and scrape his knees, his right to sleep in on Sundays and enjoy the morning sun, his right to an education or at least to safe working conditions.
In Canada, children dread the alarm that rings and wakes them from sleeping in late. Kids struggle to get out of bed, complain about their bowl of frosted flakes and intentionally miss the bus to get a day off to watch the latest episode of Gossip Girl or Family Guy. Where I am now, children and their parents are racing to get that one last space available at a migrant school. New families come to Mae Sot every single day. Although many come with nothing but a backpack and a relative, they always seem to make an education the very first priority. Like winning cash for life in North America, finding that one migrant school with one more space for one more child is their lottery
the sunshine
I miss my sunshine prize. Unfortunately, there do not seem to be enough schools or enough funding for these people. This means that or many unlucky families, who have escaped into Thailand, there seems to be no other option but to bring their children with them to do unforgiving work – the harsh reality of daily life for an illegal migrant worker.
At night when I close my eyes, my thoughts race through my head a thousand miles a minute. I review my day, imagine my tomorrow and allow my mind to clear. Eventually I tire, I drift, I sleep, I dream. Some say dreaming is a person’s subconscious at work – a way to help resolve unresolved issues. But in the daylight, in our conscious life, we can dream in a different way. A dream can be a journey engraved in our hearts that we follow in the hope of finding happiness, relief or self-completion. A dream is motivation, and strength to encourage perseverance in the most unpromising and desperate situations. A dream will shine light into the deepest darkest corners and give hope and faith that the impossible is actually possible.
I have a reoccurring dream that straddles the line between the night time subconscious brain and the predetermined journey of our hearts. I imagine a world of people aware of their rights and aware of their responsibilities. I dream of a world where those who are able to express their rights will one day understand their responsibilities and work to fight for rest of the global population whose rights have been forgotten. It is a dream for parents forced to sell their children in hopes of making a little cash to eat; for the little girl thrown into the sex industry with no education or access to an alternative way; for workers without unions who get shown the door if they ask for a raise; for the families whose communities have been burned to the ground; for the populations suffering famine while their politicians raise taxes; for a 12 year old boy with a small frame and soft face, holding a piece of glass to shield his eyes from the blinding blue light.
My dream is that one day, education will no longer be just a dream for the millions of children across the globe who have no access to it, 60% being young girls. This dream may seem unrealistic and impossible to many. One person with a dream might not make a difference. But with a hopeful and dream-invested global community, there is potential to do much more, and those of us privileged enough to have mandatory schooling have a responsibility to unite together and ensure this dream of receiving an education, stolen from millions of children, is awakened each time a child opens his/her eyes. I am not asking anyone for anything they do not have. This battle can be won if enough people are willing to dream.
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