The plot is simple. A 13-year old girl is asked by her father to collect water. On the way, she meets a man who offers her free water and food. This sounds too good to be true, and it is.
As I walked through the busy and narrow alleys of the camp, I was overwhelmed by the sheer number of children – they were everywhere. Many of them had thin arms and swollen bellies, typically symptoms of malnutrition and stomach diseases. Some of them would not stop crying.
The amount of need was palpable at the camp and I was glad that we were there to take action.
Save the Children’s No Child Born to Die campaign is trying to raise awareness and tackle the toll of preventable child deaths. We believe that the improvement of health systems and increased vaccination coverage are vitally important measures for decreasing child mortality. However education, particularly maternal education, is also hugely important.
As difficult and sensitive as it may be, Save the Children-supported community groups in Myanmar (Burma) have demonstrated real commitment and courage in addressing the risks to children of armed conflict, and their efforts are having a positive impact on the lives of potentially thousands of children.
Getting this message out is hard – cholera has not been seen in Haiti for between 60 and 100 years, and myths and rumours are quick to spring up.
One of the many ways Save the Children is educating the public is through songs in Creole to teach children how to prevent cholera, how to recognise the symptoms and what to do next.
Over the two-day period, my emotions had run the gamut: I was outraged at levels of egregious violations against children’s right and heartbroken to hear the stories of young girls, who looked no older than ten years of age, having to work long hard hours.
But I was inspired by vignettes of courage and determination among children and youth fighting for their rights, adults going beyond their call of duty to promote the rights of children and the field staff of Save the Children equally determined and committed to making all of their programme areas ones that no longer tolerate the abuse, exploitation, neglect and harm of children.
Wednesday morning, 10.30am: the unmistakeable bee-hive shrieks from the playground reach my ears even before I turn the corner. As I enter the gates and cross the tarmac to the school, I weave through animated games of tag, clapping, the odd near-fight averted by supervising teaching assistants in fluorescent jackets, and rushed but friendly cries of “Hello Rachel!” as I’m spotted by some of the 56 students I’m working this term.
On the final day of the Mekong Youth Forum, a theatrical presentation, designed and performed by the youth delegates, quickly captured the attention of all present.
I spent the afternoon today visiting the Bana ya Poveda center in Kinshasa. Their centre is trying to reunite street children back with their families. Some have run away, some have been thrown out. About 80% of them have been accused of witchcraft.
This is the story of how you become a witch in the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC) and also Angola. Firstly, you must understand, you are not born a witch. You become one, often against your own will.
