The next decade....what's in store?

Me and two young boys today

1ST BOY

I was about to go into the cricket players' dressing room area (you have to walk there to go upstairs for press conferences). A little boy who looked to be about 4 years old, if that old, was sitting on a chair by the grill gate. He started to bawl. Tears came to his eyes. I have a soft spot for children, so I stooped down to get to his level and asked him what was wrong.

He said something which I thought was "my knees". So I repeated that and he shook his head and said it again. I still couldn't figure it out. And then he said it again and pointed at something.

When I looked around, a police car had driven up. Then, I had remembered that around the time he started to holler, I had heard the sirens go on. (The teams get police escorts to and from the ground). Ah, so that was it. He was saying "Police".

I was horrified that the sight and sound of a police vehicle could evoke such a reaction in a toddler. In the most soothing voice I could find, I said to him "no man, it's ok, that's friendly police. Friendly police. They're going with the team back to the hotel". And then his tears dried up.

I don't know where he lives, but I imagine it must be in an area where he sees police vehicles often, and it might be as a result of some violent crime. The other thing too is that he associates police with brutality.

What a place, a destitute place that we have created for our children.

And it's all the adults' fault!

2ND BOY

Now this one wants a slap.

After encounter with boy 1, I went back to the press box, packed up and was headed across the road to the car. As I exited the ground, I came upon a group of boys, about 13 or 14 years old. One of them said something to me. I heard what it was, but said "Excuse me? What did you just say?".

He comes up to me and returns the stare that I was giving him. "Miss....good afternoon miss, beg yuh $20 please". So he was polite. Bizniz not. I asked him why he was asking me for $20. Where was his mother? He was eating ice, and had to keep taking it out of his mouth to answer my questions.

She was at home, he said, somewhere around the road. Does she know you are asking people for money? No. If she knew, would she be pleased? No. Do you go to school? Yes. Where? Clan Carthy High School. I told him the only way to ensure that he did not have to beg was for him to do well in school. And instead of begging, he must offer to do something for a person and maybe, just maybe they might offer him something.

He maintained the eye contact throughout, in a sort of daring way almost, and then a van drove up and paused, and the lad hopped on to the back as it moved off, unable to hear me say "don't do that, you'll fall off and get crushed".

Somehow I don't think he would have even slightly cared.

I had told him he'd probably not want to tell his mother that he had begged me. I said to him "because you know she will give you a beating".

I take that back. Tell her. Tell her.

Posted by yamfoot at June 6, 2004 10:00 PM