Forgetting Other People's Children

One regular day as I was walking home in Shone from the internet café I ran into a three year old baby girl who was ecstatic to see me. We had never met before but seeing a foreigner clearly made her day. She called out to me and I walked over and crouched down to say hello. As I was admiring her innocence and the sheer joy on her precious face, I realized there was black crust all over her left ear and white liquid inside of it. She didn’t seem to be in pain, so I wasn’t too alarmed. I then walked over to the teenage girl watching her and in my broken Amharic managed to ask what was wrong with the child’s ear. She told me her ear was sick. I asked if her family had medicine for her and she said no. I asked if they had planned on taking her to the doctor and again the answer was no. I told her to take the child to the doctor and get medicine for her, she nodded, I waved goodbye and walked away.

That night I went home and couldn’t get the child off my mind. I proceeded to devise a plan to help her in the most discreet way possible. I spoke to my counterpart and we decided that I would give him money, he would get her the medicine, and no one would have to know it came from me, but I never saw her again.

This is not a novel occurrence here in Ethiopia. One of the poorest countries in the world, Ethiopia is replete with sick children who lack the resources and the attention from their families to get proper treatment for simple maladies. As a volunteer my job is to help Ethiopians help themselves by helping them acquire skills - giving them money and paying for medicine is not part of the deal. However, whenever I come across a defenseless child with a simple illness that could turn into something grave if left unattended, my heart aches. I struggle with the desire to do the human thing and help, and the knowledge that doing so could put me in a bad position in my town, for everyone will likely then expect me to do the same for them.

But my pain for other people’s children often feels like it’s mine alone. Life has taught me time and again that once people have their own children, everything else, including other people’s children, becomes secondary - that’s the reason I won’t be having children for a very long time.

My education has afforded me the opportunity to meet quite a few influential people with the power to make a difference who unapologetically chose not to for the sake of their children. I remember how it felt to have a Dominican woman in a high position of power at Wesleyan for the first time. I remember how hopeful the student of color community at WES felt about the change she would bring. We thought she would advocate for us, look out for our interests, and help us fight “the man” - WE WERE DEAD WRONG. When push came to shove and we were racially targeted, all we got from her was, “it happens everywhere and it’s going to continue to happen.” WTF? Really though?

Yes, really. While I cannot affirm that her lack of support was due to fear of losing her job and what that would mean for the future of her children, it was the only explanation that seemed to appease -“If she did it for her kids, who are we to blame her?”

I dare not blame her or anyone else for thinking about their own children first and choosing not to risk their livelihoods for the children of others. However, I would like to challenge all parents to consider the status quo they might be helping maintain in the world their children live in. If nothing else, then at least the act of having a child should be catalyst enough for you to stand up against the inequality, the poverty, the racism, the sexism, the sexual assault, and the homophobia that plagues the world we live in.  We don’t live in a vacuum and as long as that’s the case no child is immune, not even yours. So I’m taking my time, trying to make change the only way I know how, investing in the children of others who might be making the decisions that will someday affect my own, and building a better world for my unborn little monsters, for even if I fail, at least they will know that I tried.