A few months ago, I went for the first time with a group of women into what is known as a trash picker community to help with a preschool class for the children that live there. I've seen small clips of communities like this in the Philippines and on a much larger scale, I've seen pictures of trash city in Cairo, but to walk into one myself, to watch toddlers play in and around bags and bags of repugnant rubbish is an eye opening experience to say the least.
On arrival, we walked through the small kampung (village) and smiled and greeted everyone we saw. Salamat Pagi. Apa kabar? The answer is always, Pagi. Baik. Good Morning. How are you? Morning. I'm fine.
Similar to other experiences I have now had, I mask how I really feel by my surroundings and interact with the people and the environment without hesitation. While my natural instincts tell me to grab the children away from the rubbish and to cover my senses from absorbing the smell and the smoke from burning rubbish, this is the life the people here live everyday. And they smile and welcome us into it.
We made our way to the back of the village to a large dilapidated undercover area. The floor is the earth with remnants of rubbish embedded into it. A large blue tarp is rolled out to cover the dirt and with that, our classroom, and the reason we have come is ready.
There were about 30 children there. We sang songs and played games. We hand out laminated cards that have the alphabet and numbers on them and the children practice writing. We count to 10 and sing the alphabet. I learn that the children have only been writing for a couple of months and I am amazed at how well some of them do. All they needed was the opportunity.
Two of the little boys I was sitting with share a sock which acts as a rubber for the laminated page. When one of the boys takes the sock off the other, instead of fighting, they laugh a little and squish in closer and use one end each. My heart smiles at their kindness and their innocence. There is no entitlement found here.
I sit with one little girl and almost squeeze her, multiple times. I guess she is somewhere between two and three, but she looks more like she's about 18months. We play a game and she throws her head back in adorable giggles every time she 'wins'. She rests her little hand on my leg and moves in closer to me. Squeeze!
We sing London bridge and have the children run through the tunnel (adults holding hands arched above the children). At one point we put our arms down and trap the children and their squeals of delight are musical. It is a crystal clear moment and I am hyper aware of the fact that all children are really the same. They delight in love and attention from adults that care for them, and thrive in that environment. The only real differences between these children and my own, are the opportunities given them.
Despite their surroundings, they run around and play. Seemingly happy in their environment. They know nothing else.
On the way home I sit in my car and try to process the life these little children are growing up in. Some of them will go to school. At least for a while. But what does the future hold for them? For their children? There are good things happening in this community, but I imagine that for many of the children there, life may remain the same for a long, long time.
And with that, I commit to going back every week and seeing their little faces again.
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