A tear jerker.

I have a few soap boxes in life that I am pretty passionate about. One that really stands out to me is my felt need to advocate for people with special needs. In the U.S., many strides have been made in the last couple of decades that have allowed such children to go to school with other typically functioning kids, "play" on their sports teams, etc. There are still many who do not see the need for such inclusion if these children are not able to do what their peers are doing, but the self-esteem that comes with "being normal" for a time is worth it all.

Gunda, the child in the picture below, is a boy with special needs. (I am not sure exactly what his delays would label him with, but he doesn't talk much, his walk is quite different, and doesn't respond to conversation- even things like "What is your name?") I heard the African teachers that we work with refer to "the fat kid" in the village who wanted to come to our school, but they wouldn't let him because he was "dumb" and "wouldn't learn anything". (Almost seemed like the "village idiot" in Fairy Tales) I had no idea that he might have a special need, until we met him one day in the village. I mentioned to Grace, who is wonderful, that I wanted him to come to our school and would be interested in working with him. She said that she would look into it.

Gunda came to school last Monday for the first time! I was really excited to see him there, although seeing his blank expression while I was teaching was a clear sign that he was not learning the material. But, I was glad he was there, nonetheless. When it was time for our walk the students back to the village, I grabbed his hand and we walked back together. What happened next was one of the worst sights I have seen since landing here.

When we walk the kids back after school, we probably have 4 kids grasping onto each of our hands- holding onto a finger, our elbow, it doesn't matter to them. NOT ONE other child held onto the hand that was holding Gunda's. (In fact, another child cried all through the day and told another teacher that she was afraid of him.) Other children would walk up to him and make fun of him by walking like him and laughing, pointing, or saying things in Swahili that I know are offensive. I was burning inside. This precious child was not welcome at our school by the other children because of something he cannot control. The worst was yet to come.

We made it to the village and saw the masses of villagers who sit near the "entrance" each day. They all began to laugh at Gunda, point, and call him names such as "hippopotamus". I figured that if I just continued to confidently hold Gunda's hand and smile as I talked to him, maybe, just maybe they would notice that someone sees something of value in him. A few of the other volunteers and I talked about this on the walk home that day and we decided that each day one of us ought to hold his hand proudly as we walk the other children home- hoping to be an example of acceptance.

Be thankful that we live in a place where children with special needs are able to go to school through Government funding, are able to have differing therapies that will help them to function as normally in society as possible and where it is not politically correct for people to discriminate openly against them. One more reason I have to thank God for the things He has done for me.