Sélavi — that is life
Children long to become capable and to show how much they can care for each other. This book helps them begin to think and to find ways of doing this, even as children. Especially as children.
—Molly Bang
Note to the Reader
The primary language in Haiti is Kreyòl, which has roots in French and West African languages. Words are pronounced phonetically, just as they are spelled. Sélavi means that is life.
Not so long ago and not so far away, people with guns could take a family, burn a house and disappear, leaving a small child alone in the world.
This child went north and south, east and west. Here and there he found something to eat and a place to sleep, but not a family and not a home.
In the capital city of his country, the streets were crowded with overloaded buses, cars with darkened windows, and more people with guns. Angry faces shouted, "Move on," and "Go home." The child was too tired to keep going. He sat on the curb with his head in his hands.
Suddenly, a hand was on his shoulder. Was it a man with a gun? No, it was a boy his own age, saying, "My name is TiFrè. Have some plantains. What is your name? Where are you from?"
The child ate hungrily but didn´t answer.
"You can name yourself," Tifrè said. "Like my name means Little Brother. We could call you Hungry, Sleepy, or Little Traveler..."
"I am all those things," the child said. "And that´s life." From then on they called him Sélavi.
Tifrè brought Sélavi to the place where he lived, a banyan tree near a market square which emptied out in the evening. As the sun went down, child after child came home with something to share. Jenti, braiding Toussaint´s hair, said, "I have some avocados for everyone. They gave them to me for working at the restaurant." Toussaint called out, ´´Mangoes for one and all. I was at the docks today."
Yvette and Espri introduced themselves. "Help yourself to drinking water," Yvette offered. Espri smiled at Sélavi.
"And this is Mirror," said Tifrè, pointing to a child taking apart a broken radio. He then placed fried plantains wrapped in brown paper on a makeshift table. "We each bring back what we get during the day, and we all end up with more."
That night they had enough to eat, a place to rest, and the comfort of each other. As they settled down to sleep, Sélavi told of the men with guns and his long run through the countryside. Then the others told their stories too.
JENTI: My family left our village on an old ferry boat. I ran ashore to get one last thing and when I returned, the boat had fallen apart. I lost everybody. I was eight years old.
TOUSSAINT: Man, I was nine and our house had three brothers, two sisters, four cousins, a grandpa, an uncle, two aunties, my mame and papa. It seemed like one dry bean for all of us, so I said, "This is more than one house can hold." I go back sometimes and make sure they are as okay as can be.
ESPRI AND YVETTE: We were sleeping when our parents woke us and told us to hide so we hid together in an empty oil drum. There was a lot of shouting and then silence. When we came out, there was no one. A family took us in to work for them, but they didn´t care for us.
TIFRÈ: My mother moved us to the city where we knew no one. When she couldn´t find a house, she made one from things she found. She got very sick and died. Soon after, my brother died too. I was too sad to cry right away.
The next morning, and many mornings that followed, the children rose early to look for work washing cars, carrying water, cleaning clothes, asking people for money or food, and searching for useful metal or scraps that others had thrown away.
But then, one day a man in uniform pushed Sélavi roughly.
"All of you street children are dirty thieves," he said.
Sélavi was frightened. He ran back to the children´s home beneath the banyan tree.
There were more angry faces there. One of them said, "We have chased away your friends. If we ever see you again, we will arrest you."
Sélavi ran down a side street and into a church. There he saw many families. Some of them seemed kind, but others were frowning because he had interrupted them.
A man was speaking to the people. "Alone," he said, "we may be a single drop of water, but together we can be a mighty river. We must help each other to become strong!"
Sélavi called out, "I need help." Faces turned toward him. Sélavi told them about his friends and the men who had threatened him. An older woman said, "You are safe here." A couple stood. "Come live with us and be our son."
"Thank you very much," said Sélavi, "but what about my brothers and sisters in the street?"
… (To be continued - You can read the whole story in the PDF attachment)
Youme Landowne
Sélavie, that is life: a Haitian story oh hope
El Paso, Cinco Puntos Press, 2004
The Shepherd Boy
James´ father was a shepherd. Every day he got up very early, took his crook and his collie, and went off to see his sheep.
James longed to be a shepherd too.
"You´ll have to wait until you´re a little older," his father said.
So every day James watched and waited.
James watched and waited all through spring. He watched as the new lambs were born, and saw them grow big and strong.
James watched and waited all through summer. He watched his father clip the sheep, and saw his mother pack the sacks of wool.
James watched and waited all through autumn. He watched his mother help to wean the lambs, and saw his father dip the sheep.
On market-day, James waited while the lambs were sold and heard the farmers talk of winter.
When snow fell, James watched his father feed the hungry sheep near the house, and saw him take hay on the tractor to the sheep on the hill.
Then James waited for his father to come home for tea.
On Christmas Day, James and his father and mother opened their presents
under the tree.
(To be continued - You can read the whole story in the PDF attachment)
Kim Lewis
The Shepherd Boy
London, Walker Books, 1991
Posted by: Stories for Everyone - AS <sg@storiesforeveryone.com>
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