100 %

We’re about to take off, almost ready to go
50/50 nervous and excited
That’s why I’m cleaning up so

I guess I was a quite average 14 year-old girl. My moods could change in the blink of an eye from hyperactively chirpy to inexplicable anger and sadness. One moment I was laughing so hard I almost fell to the ground, the next I could be convinced that everything was just crap. When being in the down-swing on the mood curve I could imagine a lot of silly things. If my parents happened to push the wrong buttons at the wrong time, I could for a brief moment think that they didn’t like me or care about me all that much. If I would have disappeared for a while, they would probably not even notice or care. Is this recognizable to anyone?

Women's Day

In Uganda 8th March is a public holiday, so Monday we had free from work. This day women are not supposed to do anything. Men should cook and clean, and women should go out and enjoy themselves

This day many funny dishes are served in Ugandan homes, included our apartment. “The boys” Peter and Justus came to cook for us. We went to the market and bought vegetables and a live chicken. We got some banana leaves and I did my first chicken-murder. I stood on its feet and wings, ribbed the neck, and since we didn’t have any axe, I had to cut over the neck slowly and brutally with a knife.

Pallisa Road

Silje jobber for en bedre verden. En historie blir fortalt, om en gutt som, nå, endelig, er på vei opp og frem

I hadn't really noticed him before, but the following days I started talking a bit to him. He said that he would like to talk to me again, just the two of us. He had something he wanted to tell me. I was very excited that he actually took the initiative and asked me, and I of course said that I'd love to talk to him, anytime. The problem was just that there was no time the following days. After that, he was no longer attending the project daily..

Touched

Serina og Kaia har frem til nå undervist engelsk og lifeskills på en skole i Uganda. Nå skal elevene ha en lang juleferie, og det var tid for å si hade, og på gjensyn.

But this was just a goodbye for two months. Im not looking forward to the real goodbyes. Good we still have 5 and a half months left in Uganda. Hope they dont run by too quickly.

African housewives - A full time job

Serina has travelled to Uganda, and taken a step out into the big world. A part of travelling trought Hald I.S. is to do things you are not used to, in this case: being a house wife.

Women in Uganda are allways busy. Not busy busy, hurry hurry, like stressed people in Norway, but they allways have something to do. I dont know all african women, but from what I have heard and seen I am really respecting them. They are the first to wake up in the morning, to preper food for the husband and the kids. Then there is cleaning, babysitting, and maby work at the market or somewhere else. Then there is more cleaning, washing and food prepearing before the husband is back. When the husband is resting after work the woman maby walk to get more wather, and clean the kids and their clothes. When all her work is done, the day is over, and she goes to bed to rest before a new day, with more washing. Its really a full time job, but she´s not complaining; "a womans got to do what a womans got to do".

Read more: Serina i Uganda

It's up to you

(Illustration photo)

Svenn shares a story from his work in Bolivia:

I was walking down the street talking to my friends. It was late and we were on our way back home. When I walk in the street my eyes are now automatically looking for street children, and as we were walking I suddenly saw a kid laying on a bench. I looked at him closely and I thought to myself; Do I know this kid? I continued walking since I was thinking about other things than work, but I couldn’t stop thinking about who is this kid. Marius and I decided to leave our friends for a second and go back in order to talk with this kid. Just to find out who he was.


We sat us down on the bench, quiet without saying anything. I looked at the boy, but he wouldn’t look back at me. He was about 11 years old. I could tell that I had seen this boy before, but I couldn’t remember where. I then asked,

- Hey, boy, do you know Alalay?
The kid looked at me with a firm smile on his face without saying anything at all. He was dirty after working the whole day as a shoe shiner, and he was about to go to sleep. I could tell that I really knew this boy. Without a doubt. After a few moments of silence the kid looked at me saying,
- Yes, I know Alalay, and I know you as well.

I continued,
- How long have you been in the street?.
- About a week, he told me.
- And why did you leave Alalay?
- Because I want to earn some money...
- Money? I repeated.

He just looked at me, smiling. I continued asking him about what he thought about returning to Alalay. He said:
- Returning? Well...I don’t know.
- You don’t know? I said.
- No, I don’t know. It’s just that I like to earn some money. I don’t like being in the street, but returning...well...I don’t know.

I then used about five minutes explaining him what his options are. How his future can be, but that it is all up to him. I finished telling him that we can go right now, and that he could sleep in a warm bed already this night.
- What do you think? I said.
- I don’t know, he answered. Really, I don’t know.

Read more: Thoughts from Bolivia

Stories of violence

Janne puts down some thoughts about violence against women in Peru:

Before hitting us, try talking to us! That was the message the group of adolescents we work with wanted to communicate to their parents and to their community in general during an art exhibition they put on a few weeks ago. Using only recycled materials, they constructed an interactive exhibition based on the three main themes of the group: environmental protection, sexual and reproductive health, and violence prevention.

I was especially struck by the work they did related to violence, which is a social problem deeply entrenched in the culture. Here, most everyone see violence as a completely natural response to anger, “bad” behavior, sadness, and a host of other feelings and behaviors. Moreover, the Latin-America machismo culture prescribes a strict gender-role, purporting that “real men” are physically strong, don’t cry, exercise their power over others through domination and control, and don’t show emotions. This gender-role (combined with the submissive gender role of women) creates a climate in which violence (and especially violence towards women) is accepted as a natural.

Sometimes I scare myself when I realize how desensitized even I have become to the violence during my time here. The kids I work with have shown me bruises where their parents have beaten them, teenagers have told me stories about their alcoholic dads that abuse them and their mothers, and even those I somehow thought lived in families free of violence turn out to have bruises (either emotional or physical). I wish I could say that I was equally outraged each time I heard one of these stories. But the truth is that, though each story stings, there are too many to fully let the impact of each story sink in over you. And, honestly, what disturbs me most of all is the thought of all the stories that are not being told… The silently suffering, day in and day out, year in and year out.

Let’s not forget that these stories exist close to home too. In America, 1 in 4 women will experience violence in their lifetimes. In Norway too, supposedly one of the countries in the world with the greatest gender equality, women still bear the larger burden of violence in the home. And again, there are undoubtedly countless stories that are not being told here either…

If you are interested in learning more, click on the following links:
Amnesty International's campaign Stop Violence Against Women
UNIFEM - Violence Against Women

From Janne in Perú

Living happily ever after

Sometimes, even though you try your best to help, people do not always live happily ever after. Svenn tells about some of his challenges working with street children in Bolivia:

I was sitting on the grass with my first-aid kit in my right hand. It was deadly hot as usual, so the shadow from the gigantic building behind me was more than appreciated. I was working, and as you might know my work contains of two parts. Walking and talking. And now I was telling a 13 year old boy what he could do if he left the street. How his future could be like. How happy his life can and will be if he choose to leave. All he have to do is to say - Yes, I’ll try my best to change myself. I was telling him about the homes he could go to. All the things he could learn. I tried my best to help him think. Help him understand and to take the right decision.

The thing is that he had decided earlier that day to leave the street together with a friend. When they were about to leave he had changed his mind. Both his friend and I really wanted him to go, but he said no again and again. That was when I started to talk with him....


When I finished talking he looked at me. Staring into my eyes. Then slowly looking down starting to draw a long line in the sand. We were sitting like that for a few moments. Waiting. But the message he was sending was obvious . I said to myself:
-He’s not going to say yes. In fact, he’s not going to say anything at all. I told him what I say too many times a day.
- You think about it, and if you need anything at all. You let me know, okay? He left the scene going back to his home. His home underground.

I want to tell you one thing with this story. And that is that the reality of working with street children is harsh and difficult. I’ve told you earlier about both how street children become street children and how it is to be a street child. What I want you to know with this post is to tell you my own reality with the street children. From the point of view I see them every day.

I can tell you that “And he lived happily ever after” is a rare thing in this work. The kids doesn’t come running saying that they want to leave the street, nor is it possible to take all of them to an orphanage or something similar. The street is not what it looks like. In fact It’s a harsh and unfair underworld. It’s a world full of drugs and abuse. It’s a world the kids get addicted to. That’s the reality. It’s not a movie. It’s real. Fully real.

And my work is to get the kids to choose to leave this world. How is it possible? I have found that a big part of the answer is faithfulness and trust. First, you have to be there. Be there to show them that you win if you choose to leave. Be there to be a positive person in the middle of their reality. A person who understands. Understands their reality. Their world. Second, you have to get them to trust you. This you do both by fulfilling the faithfulness part, and show them that you want only good things for them. You play with them, laugh with them and talk with them. You give your person to them. You give all you have and you don’t let them down. Never.

I turned my face against the other boy. The friend of the boy who just had went back underground. The boy next to me, who had been washing windshields for months, was now ready to leave the street. He was ready to change. To live a better life. He started walking with me against the bus with hope and dreams in his eyes. Meeting his new future. This is what makes this work worth the effort. You do not make things. You make futures and lives.

Read more: Thoughts from Bolivia

Carnival in Iquitos

Janne blogs about Carnival celebrations in Iquitos:

The originally Brazilian festival of carnaval has taken in a life of its own here in Iquitos. After about a month of water balloon fights in the streets on Saturday and Sunday afternoons, the time finally came for the big celebration two weeks ago.

On Saturday, lots and lots of neighbors got together to dance, throw water at each other, and put up their humisha (a palm tree that they decorate with food, balloons, and gifts, and then place in the middle of the street). The day after, Sunday, is the biggest celebration. It basically consists of dancing, getting dirty (covering each other in mud, paint, and natural tints), and getting clean again (with water balloons and buckets of water being thrown over you ever other minute or so). It is definitely one of the best parties I have been to in my life -- children and adults all playing together, everyone dancing, and everybody (and especially adults) getting to act like children.

A radio station was hosting a party in the street, and that is where we spent most of the day Sunday. Incredibly liberating and fun having mud/water-fights with strangers, while dancing and enjoying the live music.

Read more: Janne in Perú

CHRISC Karneval

Sylivia has attended a carnival with KRIK. She enjoyed dressing up in historical costumes:

It is important to recall and do the things people used to do even if they are alive or not. At Krik or Chrisc carnival me and Calvin we decided to put on the ways people used to dress long time in Uganda in the time of Idi Amin Dada. This was nice coz Calvin looked like Amin and me i looked they way ladies would put on meeting amin and dancing for him. So people always appreciate your cultures and respect it also and aslo try to do things that have been done by your great people , the people that canot be forgotten at all This is the goodness of KRIK here in Norway and the things it is doing to all people regardless of age,gender,country, we are all the same.

From sylivia and family
Read more: sylivia and family

Life on the streets

In an earlier post, Svenn told us about how a child might end up living on the street. Now, he shares more about how life on the streets is actually like:

The life of the street child is hard. And then I mean really hard, but still most of the children living in the street prefer to stay there. They prefer to have the freedom it contains. The feeling of being able to choose what to do by themselves without anyone telling them what to do. For them it is a life without authorities and abusive parents.

I have so far met three children living in the street who have told me that they used to live in Alalay, but they left the project in favor of the street. In the street they have what they need to escape from a life which is brutal and unfair. I am not saying that the street is not brutal, but rather that there, they have the drugs to forget all the brutality.

[...]

I want you to think that you now have lived a few months in the street. You were sometimes at home “visiting” in the beginning, but this stopped quit quickly. You were now living constantly in the street. The only family you in reality have is the other street children and you have found yourself a street family.

A street family is basically a group of street children living together. In these groups you can almost always find some older street children. Maybe 20-25 years old, and among these there is sometimes a girl who act as the mother of the family. The older boys are the leaders and protectors of the family. All these older boys and girls are street children who never left the street when they were young. They are basically examples for the younger street children, but extremely bad examples. Here you can find the distribution of drugs and glue. The family is also a source of knowledge about robbing, begging and different types of work.

You wake up around midday. You feel an extreme pain in your body. Almost unbearable. The pain you are feeling is the result of yesterdays robbing who went really bad. You got caught by the police and they were hitting you for a long time all over your body. Yesterday you didn’t feel anything because you were drugged, but now you could feel everything. Quickly you find your little cup of glue and start sniffing. This ease the pain and lets the thoughts fly away from this world ones again.

You look around you. You are in your home. A little tunnel under the road. This is a part of the bigger channels which got the function of leading all the rainwater out of the city and into the river. Here you can stay hidden without any police bothering you. This is your bedroom and “drug room”, and it is called “abajo” which means down under.

Les mer: Thoughts from Bolivia

What makes you keep going

Svenn shares another story from Alalay:

I felt everything had gone wrong. The whole day had just been a lot of shouting and negative response. I was so tired of it all, but still I was there with my kids. In a way pretending that I felt everything was right. First of all I was alone with my kids. Thirteen of them. Being in charge alone with so many kids is a lot of work in itself. What made all very difficult was that the water went. It was more or less gone the entire weekend. This makes cleaning here in Alalay almost impossible. Without water no clean clothes, rooms, plates, cups...basically everything. And worst of all - No water to drink. I guess you can imagine how it is when every single one of the kids is complaining about all this when it is nothing to do about it. This makes you tired, frustrated and sometimes angry. But a part of this work is to keep all this inside and keep going.

I was sitting playing with my kids. Just to get all our problems out of our mines. After a few fights and some competitions one of the kids said something I’ll never forget. Hermano Esteban do you know what? I answered; no, what is it? You know, you are like our second dad...you are...really...you know...our dad. I didn’t no what to say. I had no words. Isn’t that so, he said to the other kids. All the other kids nodded indicating that they agreed. Then one of the kids came over and gave me a big hug and said. You are really nice, daddy...


From Thoughts from Bolivia

Pirahnas in the pool

Janne shares a story from her work in Iquitos:

Yesterday, after the morning-program finished at La Restinga, some of the kids asked me to come with them and play on the boulevard (the street along the river, where the people congregate to wander at night). The summer vacation program has now officially started, and there are lots of new kids, so I had such a fantastic time getting to know and running around with this group of five heartbreakesrs. As the day got hotter, we went over to the big fountain with a small pool around it, and the kids screamed of joy as they threw off their shirts and jumped in. (I don't think it's normally allowed to play in the water, but the kids said that because there's a gringa (white woman) with them, the police wouldn't say anything. They were right. Sad, but true.)

Anyway, midway through a role game of tourists and sharks, one of the boys stopped in his tracks, and, a little paler than before, he turned to me and said: "Oh no.... Here comes the piranhas." I turned and looked, and recognized them immediately. Piranhas is the common way of referring to the rougher streetkids that live off of shining shoes, getting money from tourists, and stealing (not all streetkids steel, but those who do, or a suspected of doing so, are often referred to by this name). The leader of the gang, let's call him Jose, has been coming to La Restinga off and on for a long time, but is still living on the streets. His life could be so entirely different if he could choose La Restinga over the streets, but for an adrenaline-seeking group of young boys, leaving your friends on the streets in favor of a life of safety and rules is not always an easy thing.. Jose, especially, is really rough around the edges, and as he and his friends jumped into the pool, the dynamics changed instantaneously. The "piranhas" shoved the other kids away, grabbed the ball they had been playing with, and started their own game.

Read more: Janne in Perú

Becoming a street child

It is hard working with street children. Sometimes you feel helpless, thinking about all the children you are not able to help. Svenn shares some thoughts about his work and how children end up on the street:

Why! I can hear the word in my head over and over again. Why! It won't stop. It is there all the time. I am trying to sleep, but I can’t. My problem is that I’m thinking. Thinking about the children that is sleeping just a few minutes from my door. They are outside. I am in my bed. Here, right now, and I can’t even do a little thing about it. I’m thinking about injustice. Thinking about poverty. I am thinking about the world, and myself in all of it. I can’t find the answer. My head is just a mess. I stay awake more than two hours in my bed. Just thinking...

I’ve now worked a long time in the street, and I would like you to get a share of how it it’s like. I would first like you to know how it might be to live in the street. It is impossible to give you the entire picture, but I will try my best to give you something.

First of all I want you to imagine yourself going to another world. A world called the street. This is not the world as you know it. It is a harsh and ruff world. Almost constantly rude to you. And this you have to live with if you like it or not. You are a kid. Maybe about ten years old and you do not have a home. At least not a home you can go to without getting beaten or abused by your angry and drunk father.

It all started very slow. You first went to the street to work. You went because at home your family didn’t have any money for food and you had to earn some money for the family. After school you took your windshield cleaning kit and went to the city to earn a few cents. Then coming back home late in the night tired or more correctly exhausted . You did this for a long time. But then things started to be very bad at home, and your father started to abuse you. You didn’t longer want to stay at home. Home was now the same as being in prison.

You had started to make friends in the intersection where you worked and they had different type of drugs to help you forget all the problems at home. You knew they lived in the street, but that didn’t mind you now. You tried there drugs ones and you forgot all your problems. It was so good. You could fall to sleep dreaming about the time you were happy. An escape from the reality.

After this you started to be with the street kids instead of working in the day. This made things just worse at home. Less money meant more beating. But it was worth it. The feeling of escaping all of it with sniffing glue or taking drugs made it all worth the pain.

After a few days you stopped going home, because it was better to just be in the street. Here you had friends. Even some of the older boys had offered to protect you! All you had to do was just to bring a few things to him every day. Just a few cent or something and he would protect you against all the danger of the street. This was a really good deal and you accepted. You were now a part of a street family.

In your new family you learned how to rob. How to hide from the police. How to beg in the best way and how to speak the street language. All this made you more confident in yourself. More grown-up. Sometimes the police took you and hit you hard. A lot harder then your father used to do, but you had the glue to make you forget all the pain.

You were now a real street kid.

From Thoughts from Bolivia

Skiing in Norway

Sylivia from Uganda has tried skiing. It turned out to be more difficult than it looked:

Skiing is the best sport activity in Norway best every young people and even old people like to go for skiing. To us from other countries it is fun and so we try our best to runto have fun and also to fit in the society and also learn the culture better if you engage yourself in such activities.

At the beginning i was falling everytime and then but when i got into the sysytem i started skiing ,lifting up the skiing sticks and just sliding on the snow with balance. To me whenever i would see people skiing from up the mountain, i would always say that is easy but when you try thats when you will see how hard it is,.
Never say that i cando this before you try it out, so easy in your eyes but difficult in action.

From sylivia and family

Infield course in Norway

The international students have had their infield course in Mandal. Simon blogs about it:

it was good to be in infield and meet other international students,we had agood time together,we also had teachings since we came for infield.it was good , we had aparty the last day ,it was intresting .there was alot of games to play,songs, and alot of ice cream with burning candles around .it was beautiful.so tomorro we are leaving for our working places and meet again in 20th of april.nice time all........

Read more: NORWAY (1), NORWAY (2), sylivia and family

CHRISC Uganda

Sylivia represents CHRISC Uganda in Norway. She blogs about what CHRISC has done for her life:

Chrisc is good to me because it has changed my life both physical and spiritual. Chrisc is the best coz it has helped many people to improve on their skills in sports activities and also other things like seminars,and many other programs.


To me as a person, chrisc has done alot ,coz all long girls never used to play football but now they are doing it. Chrisc has made a great person, because am now a referee and i have got many certificates in different areas and which are important to me in my future life.

Chrisc has also made me have many freinds in different countries and this is coz i love the work that it is doing for us. I have used this picture coz am part of the team and i was playing as a goalkeeper and it is ma best position in football and number 5, 4,6and 11.

Chrisc is doing many things to people in different countries. In my country chrisc works in 8 districts and that is, kabale, kisoro, masaka, kampala, mbale, lira, arua luwero and also yei in sudan. CHRISC I LOVE YOU AND KEEP UP WITH THAT SPIRIT OF HELPING PEOPLE.

From sylivia and family

Winter trees

There are many differences between Norway and Uganda. Simon tells about what happens to trees in Norway in the winter:

During winter season like now trees have to shade off their leaves,what is fun is that the branches of the trees do not fall down but only the leaves fall,its fun to watch this happen.when you up country of norway the trees have been covered by snow .in kristiansand the roads are covered by snow but they keep clearing it way by amachine, so its not mainly in the main road,they also pour salt on roads to keep away snow.

Les mer: NORWAY

From HIV to hope

Having a blast at the hospital with Luis and Julio

December 1st was the World AIDS day. Janne blogs about how this day went by in Iquitos:

Though everyone, regardless of age, religion, sexual orientation, gender, and lifestyle can be affected by HIV/AIDS, the fact is that persons in the sex industry (and in particular younger women) are much more vulnerable to becoming infected. Here in Iquitos, there are exceptionally high levels of child exploitation and prostitution, which contributes to the fact that Iquitos is the city with the second highest cases of HIV infections in Peru.

La Restinga's approach to this issue is broad and includes everything from education, to workshops, to theatre, to visual arts projects. This year, one of the highlights was taking part in a campaign against discrimination towards people living with HIV. All the kids got t-shirts that said VIH (HIV in spanish), and were given the chance to change that word into something like VIVO (I live), VIVIR (live), or VIDA (life). This was to send the message that getting HIV is not neccesarily a death sentence, and those who are infected are not just sick people, or case studies, but living human beings.

After everyone had made their own shirt, we went to the regional hospital, where we split into groups and asked the medical personal if they wanted to be part of the campaign. If they accepted, we put the VIH shirt on them and painted symbols and words on it while talking to them about how they could work to stop discrimination against persons with HIV/AIDS.

This was super interesting, because there is still a lot of fear within the medical community (some medical personell still insist on putting on gloves before examining a HIV patient, which is of course ludacris, since HIV cannot be spread through physical touch). The campaign turned out to be a huge success, and we had a ton of people coming up to us asking how they could get involved. When we ran out of t-shirts, some people (including patients at the hospital) came up to us insisting that we paint directly onto whatever clothes they were wearing [...]

Aside from this event, La Restinga has been working all throughout the month of November, dealing with issues of sexuality, gender roles and gender identity, abuse, trafficking, and STIs (sexually transmitted infections, including HIV/AIDS). I got the exciting challenge of co-teaching a weeklong workshop with an overview of all of these issues with some of the younger kids (10-13yrs), which was really interesting and but also daunting. The average age of first sexual intercourse in Iquitos is 14yrs (and in some isolated parts of the city it's as low as 12yrs), which is scary and heartbreaking (especially because sexual abuse definitely lowers the average). Given all the health risk associated with this, it's extremely important to start talking to the kids about these issues at an early age.

Les mer: Janne in Perú

La fiesta de los niños de la calle

Svenn and Marius have attended a big party for all the street children of Santa Cruz. Marius tells the story:

The day started with a search and pickup job. We went to the marked I wrote about in my last post to look for the children we had invited a few days before. What made me really happy was that we actually found the boys we didn’t find a few days ago. We gather a total of thirteen children in a taxi (Yeah it is possible), but when the taxi driver didn’t agree on the price all of the children had to go out again. Suddenly eight of them were gone, and we decided that I should take the ones we had and go to the party. Marius and the educadora stayed to find the others in order to come to the party later.

I found myself sitting in a taxi with five street children and an unhappy taxi driver. He didn’t really want kids smelling like shit in his car. That I understood, but he went anyway. With one kid on my lap and four others in the back I remembered that I didn’t know the address. Like everything in this world, things have an solution. So had this problem. One of the kids in the back offered kindly to help and I put all my faith in that this kid knew what he was telling the taxi driver. I then started, unsure if we were driving in the right direction, my process of getting to know this kids a bit more. Smiling, laughing and joking.

We made it to the party without any more problems and I could lower my shoulders for now. The party had everything a party should have. Activities, workshops, soda, food, presents and more. Both me and the children had a great time. I got an unique opportunity to get to know them and at the same time have a lot of fun. Fantastic!

A part of the party was to go to a place where the kids could eat and sleep. Everyone were invited to join this part as well but not everyone wanted. As I was walking to the combi I found a kid laying on the ground bleeding a lot from his face. It was blood everywhere. A lot of kids and other volunteers stood around watching unsure of what had happened. I had no clue, but I offered to treat the boy with my first-aid kit which I had in my backpack. With my hands shaking I started to clean away all the blood in his face. I found that he had been cut right over his eye, and I cleaned the wound properly. After a while the bleeding stopped and I finished my work with a piece of bandage.

Again relieved that things went well, I got myself into the combi. Here I sat down with about fifteen other kids. Some girls with small kids, some small boys and some older. Me as the only “gringo” in the car got tested if I really could stand the pressure of being with them. They were hitting me with all the street talk you can imagine. This is hard to explain, but the street children have their ways of testing you. Luckily they never found my breaking point. They gave up just after a few minutes.

After a few minutes with normal talk, the smell of glue became intensively strong. Almost everyone were sniffing. The mothers, the little boys and the older ones. Right next to me. I almost got drugged myself because of the smell. It was a strange feeling sitting there. Very strange. Everyone were looking at me trying to find out who is this strange norwegian. We all looked at each other communicating without words.

We arrived just in time for me to avoid a big headache. It was like I had been holding my breath for hours without really doing so. Fresh air in my lungs was a great feeling at this point. I went again to join the final part of the party.

This part was the most interesting for me. First, I got a great introduction to another project which is working with street children. Second, I got to have several longer conversations with the kids. I had a great time. 


The strangest thing was when the party finished. The ones who didn’t want to stay said goodbye to me as they were leaving a normal type of party. The girls with the normal kiss on the chin and the boys with a firm handshake. Seeing them leave out that door going back to the street made me a bit sad, but I know I will see them out there in the street again. This is the children I am working with. These children living the life on the street of Santa Cruz.

Read more: Thoughts from Bolivia, Reisebrev frå Marius (Norwegian)