Village Children

The children are the best part of my life in the village. Even though many of them have very little, they have such a joy of life. Their toys are similar to what my grandparents played with: rolling tires with sticks, jacks (but with rocks), hopscotch, and ball. No tv, no board games and definitely no video or computer games. They often have to make their own toys, making little animals out of clay and playing house with old tin cans and milk containers. And yet they seem happier than many American children. I think part of it is because almost everyone here has the same things, the same handmade toys and clothes filled with holes. They don’t see all the many, many other toys, games and clothes that they don’t have, the ones that American children are constantly exposed to, designed to make them always want more. I myself feel this dissatisfaction in the US that I don’t feel here. It doesn’t matter if I have burn holes in my skirt (I sit too close to the fire in winter) or if I wear the same thing every day. There is a sense of wanting more here, but it seems more wistful dreaming and easily pushed out of mind. And there is even less of it in the children. You might want a tv, but you know you’re never going to get one, so why waste time pining for one?

Adults and children alike spend all day outside, chatting, doing laundry in the river, cooking on the outside fires, gardening, etc. People really only go inside at night and when it’s raining. And it’s the same with the children, playing all day outside. The kids here have a freedom to roam, to go anywhere. Parents usually don’t know where their kids are, but there isn’t much worry, they’ll come if you shout their names loud enough. I think this freedom, along with how much tougher life is here, make the children mature very fast. I don’t think there is a single whiny child in my village (certainly not the case with me growing up). A very common sight is to see a two year old baby tottling around alone without any pants on, holding a knife yelling the new word he’s learned “thipa!” (knife) (Boys especially don’t seem to wear pants regularly until at least five.)

Life is also hard for children. Boys are expected to spend all day herding animals in the mountains, often being expected to sacrifice going to school for it. And girls do so many chores, it seems endless. My host sister is 12, she takes care of me, helping me with laundry, washing my floor and getting water from the river. She does at least half the chores in her own house as well, after spending all day at school. One day I saw her playing with a doll and was shocked. She seems like a care-taker to me, it seemed so strange to see her acting like the young girl she actually is. But she also gets more joy out of a free apple or game of hopscotch than I think any American 12 year old could.

Children in the village can be the most frustrating part as well. A year later, they still like to come to my door and stare at me through the bars, all day long if I’d let them. They also are still constantly asking me for sweets or money. After a year of not giving out ANY candy or money, you’d think they’d give up hope, nope. The kids here have a hope for the future that they often sadly lose at the end of primary school when they see what their future most likely will really be. It’s a hard life here, but the children's continuous laughs and shouts give the village a contagious, joyous energy.