BOLIVIA:  Dying, to Help Others Live
By Franz Chávez

LA PAZ, Jan 31 (IPS) - Italian aid worker Morris Bertozzi drowned in Bolivia trying to help a local woman cross a flooded river, just as he had worked for the last 11 years helping street children in the grip of alcohol, drugs and crime cross the bridge to a new life.

Bertozzi was one more victim of the furious rivers rushing through the city of La Paz as a result of an unusually heavy rainy season attributed to the La Niña weather phenomenon.

Since the seasonal rains began two months ago, some 45 people have been killed, and crops, roads and homes have been destroyed throughout the country.

A government emergency operations centre run by the military is offering help to families left isolated by the floods.

Last Friday evening, the 36-year-old Bertozzi was swept away by a flash flood as he was trying to help a woman cross a smaller river near the Sant’Aquilina drug rehabilitation centre where he worked in the highlands district of Lipari, 25 km south of La Paz. His car was also carried off by the flood.

The next day, local residents searched for Bertozzi’s body, believing it would be in the wreck of the car, which had been carried several hundred metres downstream. But his corpse was found five km further down.

"He died helping," faithful to his principles, his wife Alejandra Costas told IPS.

Bertozzi was sent to La Paz in 1996 at the age of 25 by the Comunidad Papa Juan XXIII, a Roman Catholic organisation that helps street children, drug addicts and prostitutes in 27 countries of Europe, Latin America, Africa and Asia.

He came to Bolivia for an eight-month stint working as a volunteer in one of the group’s substance abuse rehabilitation centres.

But two children changed the direction of his life when they described to him, crying, what it was like to sleep under bridges, sift through garbage for food, and be ignored by society.

The young Italian volunteer saw the distressing stories of these two children as the call of two angels who set him on a path to help restore human dignity among street children and others without hope, said Costas.

"He started out helping, with a small bucket in his hand and a few loaves of bread," Verónica Hernaiz, administrator of the Sant’Aquilina Hogar, told IPS. The rehabilitation centre, which also offers social and labour reinsertion programmes, was built on Bertozzi’s initiative in the country’s impoverished highlands, near the river that ended up taking his life.

A deep love for Bolivia prompted Bertozzi to spearhead the founding of the Luz del Niño rehabilitation centre in the poor La Paz neighbourhood of Munaypata in 1997, and a year later the Sant’Aquilina Hogar opened its doors.

After undergoing rehabilitation, the teenage residents of the homes have the opportunity to learn how to cook Italian dishes like pizza, spaghetti and lasagne, which are served in a restaurant run by the organisation.

"Don’t forget, the poor are the children of God," was a phrase frequently repeated by Bertozzi, who was "a faithful servant of Jesus," said Hernaiz.

On the grounds of the Sant’Aquilina Hogar, lit up by bright sunlight, a rare treat after so many days of rain, the teenage residents continue their work in the stables, the pigsties and the kitchen. But there is a palpable sense of loss.

Yovana and Óscar, two adolescents who were brought in off the street, remember when the young Italian man would push through the brush surrounding the spot where they slept under a bridge in a La Paz neighbourhood, ignoring their hostility while offering hot milk and bread.

The two youngsters admitted that they at first treated the kind young blond man with distrust, but said they eventually accepted his invitation to abandon the violent world of drugs and alcohol that they inhabited.

Their time on the streets left them with scars on their arms from the self-harm they used to engage in, an increasingly common behaviour among troubled youngsters, who cut themselves, according to experts, to seek a kind of relief from unbearable psychological or emotional situations.

Óscar openly described to IPS his past on the streets, when he panhandled and robbed to survive. He said he had "several specialties" when it came to stealing.

But with a newborn baby in their arms, the young couple now envision a better future for themselves. Yovana remembers Bertozzi’s advice: "Change for the sake of your little son; the doors of this home will always be open for your recovery."

"He was a father to the poor and to the children on the streets," said Hernaiz.

Help without intermediaries 

Maxi at the home of his tutor, Mario Julio Sotelo.  Paolo Moiola

Paolo Moiola.  Jan 31, 2008

Martial arts teacher devotes his life to spending time with street children.

Commonly seen in the subway, a train station or sheltered in a doorway, there are many children who have become masters at survival in the streets, living amidst drugs, police and threatening circumstances.

Fortunately, these children don’t always have to face this precarious life alone.

Martial arts teacher Mario Julio Sotelo, 47, dedicates much of his time and energy to helping street children directly, without intermediaries.

Sotelo has spent time in Costa Rica and the United States, but now works as a courier and volunteers teaching martial arts to kids in the Miguel Magone Center. “In my own small way, I also try to help street kids,” he says.

Open House
“This is my humble home, only a step above the ranchada in the street,” warns Sotelo, as if to excuse it. The term ranchada refers to an improvised shelter made by street children: the place where they meet, sleep and establish their daily schedule.

In the ranchadas, the children “decide their activities,” Sotelo explains, “activities that often include robbery; there are few groups who live on recyclying,” he said, referring to those who collect recyclable items from the trash to exchange for money. “They also use drugs in the ranchadas.”

Sotelo says he works with street children because he feels the “need to do it,” as he too was once on the street. “Since I was an orphan, I grew up in an institute and didn’t know my parents. I learned to survive in an institute that, all things considered, was a respectable place.”

Sotelo’s house is open to everyone. “I repeat,” he insisted, “this is a little ranchada, it’s not a real house where there are beds and everyday comforts. I have what’s essential. I live with my son.

I have three forks: one for me, the other for him and one for the visitor, who today is Maxi.” Maximiliano, 16, sits and listens. “I have known Maxi for years,” Sotelo continues, “but only recently has he started living with me. He helps me in my courier job.”

In Cairo, hordes of street kids, but no longer ignored

The Egyptian government and nonprofit groups are stepping up efforts to help street children.

Eritrea: Ministry Offers Vocational Training to Street Children in Northern Red Sea Region
Shabait.com (Asmara)

30 January 2008
Massawa

The branch office of the Ministry of Labor and Welfare in the Northern Red Sea region, in collaboration with different institutions, offered a one-year vocational training to 15 street children. The training focused on mechanics, electronics, auto-electricity, wood and metal works, among others.

The head of social security in the branch office, Mr. Russom Hizbai, stated that the move is aimed at enabling the said street children become self-supporting and productive, and thereby ensure a bright future for them.

The head of the branch office, Mr. Eyob Kidane, expressed appreciation to the parties that organized the training and called on the trainees to further deepen their newly acquired skills.

The trainees on their part thanked the Ministry for providing the training and extending the necessary care and support. Meanwhile, financial assistance has been extended to 420 street children in Massawa and Ginda for baying school materials, according to reports.

Glue, a Cheap Substitute for Intoxication
OhmyNews reports from the streets of Kathmandu, Nepal
Mani Man Singh Rajbhandari (mannie)         
    Published 2008-01-30 09:59 (KST)   
The day is sunny in Kathmandu. It’s a rushed day for pedestrians hustling through the city’s narrow footpaths. Here, people pass by many unusual behaviors, which often go unobserved. Unnoticed by most, there is a group of youngsters below adolescent age wandering around the streets of Kathmandu, blowing and inhaling constantly into a plastic bag. Many adults feel pity for them, so as they pass by give them friendly, and unknowing, grins.

For many these youngsters are street children with no shelter, no healthy food and no proper clothing who, with this plastic bag they stick in their noses and mouths, have merely found something to play with in order to pass the time. They are not so different from rich children playing with any toy - the only disparity being that these children depend on the rags littered on the streets for their playthings.

Those who might think these street kids are ignorant are wrong. They are actually inventors - innovators of a cheap substitute for intoxication, which is easily available in the market, sold in both drug stores and hardware stores. It is none other than a sticky adhesive gluten substance commonly known as dendrite solution.

If you happen to be in a car in Kathmandu waiting for a red light, don’t be amazed to witness the street children congregating around your car begging for money with a plastic bag in hand. These bags, usually filled with gluten, might look like a harmless, playful thing to us - but it is cheap and extremely harmful substitute for getting high and intoxicated.

The scene I encountered when I saw some middle class teenagers under the influence of this cheap substitute was a devastating one to me. Unknown to my presence, these teenagers had slipped into the once famous school campus of the Durbar School. Behind an old, monumental building, I saw some other youths enjoying a cricket game. They seemed to be not at all bothered by the rowdy acts of these teenagers inhaling gluten on the other side of the wall.

It was a delightful moment to see the children enjoying their cricket game. At the same time it was a distressful moment, as I simultaneously watched the other kids inhale toxic vapor from a bag.

I wondered about whether educational institutions like this school should have restrictions for outsiders after school hours. If such restrictions to enter the school campus were made, one might ask, then where would playful innocent children go to enjoy a game of cricket? It is a good question, but we must realize that situations of such lenient authority and liberty at schools may create situations like this, of open drug use. The open schoolyard can become a meeting place for drug aficionados. School authorities should be aware of these problems and act promptly to bring an end to these kinds of scenarios, or else face potentially devastating consequences.

The glue sniffing by these young boys can be seen in popular areas of Kathmandu, in prime junctions where people like to shop, eat and roam. Often people are followed by the street children as they come out from fast food restaurants. The misconception in judging these young boys as helpless is itself a sort of ignorance on the part of those who throw them coins, who do so thinking that they are helping them. This small offering instead becomes an encouragement for boys to buy further tins of gluten solution.

Another scene I encountered was when I was walking the street of Bagbazar. I saw three lads walking and inhaling from a plastic bag. I noticed that one lad was using a transparent plastic with the adhesive solution inside, inhaling deeply, and repeatedly massaging the substances in the plastic bag. Their attitude was casual, as though they thought people wouldn’t realize what they were doing. I looked around to see any bystander reaction, but there wasn’t a painful glimpse on the part of anyone. As for myself, I didn’t dare to act but passed on a stare of dislike, expecting that they would become aware of such a public display. This is something I would have thought anyone would do under such circumstances.

Don’t be astonished if you come across these youngsters under the influence of this cheap substitute of inhaling adhesive solution from a plastic bag. These activities can be seen in many places around the capital; it is, however, being ignored by most. As for those who are aware of it, I believe that they do try to act to stop these activities and protect these misguided children. However, such individual efforts may not work, and even the motto ‘Say No to Drugs’ cannot be depended on on its own to stop teenagers from sniffing glue. Rather, a collaborative effort to prevent drug abuse is necessary or else we might some day in the future see many youngsters under the influence of this cheap substitute for intoxication.
©2008 OhmyNews

Day the Fremantle Dockers brought joy to South Africa town
Article from: Herald Sun
Damian Barrett

January 31, 2008 12:00am

THE street kids of the Thakeneng Project in South Africa have no idea who the big men in the purple shirts are, but they smile when they enter their world and keep smiling for the hour they spend with them.

Their lives, ever so slowly being repaired by some amazing carers, have been horrific.

A brochure outlining the project’s work explains that about 50 kids under its care have usually suffered the most despicable types of abuse.

For these kids on this day, though, there is only happiness. Big men in purple shirts have arrived to see them. Better still, there are footballs to kick and they get to keep the balls and a purple cap.

The project’s manager, Corrie Engelbrecht, is adamant this day will be recorded by the kids as a life highlight. Remembered as the day some adults spent some quality time with them and made them feel like the most special people on earth.

When it’s time for the Fremantle players to leave, the kids burst into beautiful song, the players mesmerised by the power of their noise and actions.

The kids finish that song and begin another. They know there is no way the big guys will leave if they keep singing.

But their music is stopped by a carer, and final goodbyes, hugs, handshakes, high-fives and down-lows are made.

The kids are disappointed, but have been told they will be driven by bus to watch the big guys play "foo-ty" against some other big guys in navy blue on Saturday, so there’s something else to look forward to.

"And that doesn’t happen a lot," Engelbrecht said. "All we want to do is make a difference to a child’s life, and when that happens, we are so grateful to see that joy and, as you can no doubt see yourself, there is joy here today."

The Dockers travelled from the street kids’ project to the Potchefstroom Prison. On the jail’s sports field, they kicked footies and exchanged stories with a dozen or so prisoners serving life sentences. They walked through the women’s ward, where some were heartbroken at the sight of inmates tending to babies.

They were shown the maximum security division, from which few prisoners leave.

Just as the innocent kids had done, the prisoners didn’t stop smiling — even those who looked about 16 and were doomed to a life in hell, sleeping in the same 5m x 5m space with 19 other lifers.

"I can’t believe how happy they look," Docker Byron Schammer observed.

If you ever stop to analyse the sights on offer in most parts of South Africa, it makes for dreadful, teary analysis.

But the people so often have a smile, or at least a buoyancy in their step.

There are the kids who are having the time of their lives rolling a tyre down a busy street and the old guys sitting outside their near-derelict cottages, without power or running water, but who have enough pride to manicure their small lawns.

Docker Des Headland, an indigenous Australian, says he can relate to indigenous South Africa.

"It is what they are brought up with and they accept things. They deal with what they’ve got and the life they have, yet they have a passion for that life," Headland said.

"Look at some of the kids we’ve seen today. You can’t believe what they’ve been through already in their lives and they’ve all got happy faces and are running around and smiling. And their smiles put smiles on our faces, too."

Headland’s Aboriginal teammate Jeff Farmer said it was always best to look at life positively.

"You try not to harp on that (the helplessness) too much; you try to bring a little bit of joy and a little bit of happiness for these kids," Farmer said.

"We are only here for 10 days, but you can already tell that that’s enough time to maybe make a difference, maybe change a kid’s life in terms of bringing a bit of joy."

After the prison visit, the players conduct a footy clinic in the Ikageng community on the fringes of Potchefstroom. There are more than 500 wide smiles when they arrive, but the happiest face belongs to Tebogo Raditsabena, a volunteer who helps coach locals in the art of Australian football.

Raditsabena has no legs. Puma shoes, worn backwards, protect the ends of what was left of his legs after he was severely burned as a child.

Some fear that now the big guys in purple have moved on, so many South African people uplifted by their visit will now revert to a life that seemingly has so little to look forward to.

Which is why Farmer’s words need to be absorbed.

"They’ll have the memories, mate, I know they will, and that will mean a lot to them," he said.

Children Try to Make a Living on Afghan Streets

by Soraya Sarhaddi Nelson

Morning Edition, January 30, 2008 · On any given day in the towns and cities of Afghanistan, tens of thousands of children head to the streets to beg and hawk sundries — even during the winter, when bitter winds and snow keep most adults indoors.

These street kids, who earn on average less than $2 a day, are often the only means of support for their families. And their numbers are growing.

In Kabul’s trendy Shahre-Naw neighborhood, 10-year-old Jamal, a waif of a salesman in faded pink boots, is hawking gum for about 20 cents. Determined to score a sale, no matter what, he chases after pedestrians and darts in and out of snarled traffic.

"I’m a little scared of the cars," he says. "One hit me coming the wrong way down the street. But I wasn’t hurt too bad."

Jamal says he has worked on this corner for four years. He is one of an estimated 60,000 children in Afghanistan who work the streets, says Mohammad Yousef, who heads Aschiana, a nonprofit group that helps street kids.

"Majority of them, they are not going to the school because they are working full time," Yousef says. "Early in the morning, they are starting, they are working. Until evening they are working to have a piece of bread or something for their families."

A Legacy of War

Yousef says Afghanistan’s street kids are the legacy of a quarter-century of war that stripped the country of safety nets like schools and social services. Growing unemployment and living costs are swelling their numbers.

He and others say the Afghan government has done little to help street children, given other burning issues like the ongoing war against the Taliban.

Many of the street kids take their plight in stride. They help each other, too — for good luck, they say — like giving some money to a boy or girl who fails to sell anything. But a few admit they hate being out on the streets.

Eleven-year-old Ruzadin, a pale boy with weathered skin and a faded wool cap, says it’s like being a beggar. He hounds passersby with a soft, monotonous plea for 10 cents, while waving a can of burning incense to ward off the evil eye.

Next year, Ruzadin hopes to do something more rewarding, such as working in a hotel or store like his older brother.

Helping the Next Generation

Yousef says that’s not good enough. He fears that kids like Ruzadin will become another generation of undereducated, underemployed adults who send their children to work on the streets.

His group, Aschiana, offers classes to thousands of street kids — such as one in Kabul that teaches them to play traditional Afghan musical instruments — to try to break the cycle. They also teach the children to read and write. The idea, Yousef says, is to boost their skills and ambition.

The children attend class for only a few hours each day, so they can still earn money for their families. Ahmad Zia, 14, learned to play the accordion-like Armonia and wants to become a famous musician. But he has no plans to give up his day job.

"Why should I be upset about having to work the streets?" he says. "I have no choice. My father is old, my mother is weak and only I can make the household run. So I need to sell plastic bags."

Afghan singer and activist Farhad Darya says that’s unacceptable. He believes education — not work — should be the priority for these children and that Afghans need to do more to address the needs of street kids.

"We’re sure that [it is] is not the people from outside who guarantee our future," Darya says. "[It] is these children who are left behind out there, so we must do something for our future."

Darya, who lives with his family in Virginia, started a program called "Kooche," or Street, to provide for Afghan street kids. He says he has opened bank accounts for 2,000 widows, who receive $50 a month provided they send at least one of their children to school.

Social worker decries increasing number of street children
• Wednesday, Jan 30, 2008

A social worker, Rev. Dele George has urged the various tiers of government to evolve a mechanism for the rehabilitation of street children in Nigeria.

George told newsmen in Lagos on Friday that the increasing number of street children constituted “social menace”.

According to her, such children are being exposed to hard lives, abuse, robbery and other social vices.

George, Founder of Little Saints Orphanage, regretted that government had yet to fully tackle the menace of street children decisively.

“There is the urgent need to address the increasing number of children on the streets today. Government, at all levels, should put structures in place for their rehabilitation.

“It will not be enough to say we have evacuated children from the streets, but also of importance is where to take them”, George said.

She also called for the people’s assistance in addressing the plight of street children.

“Rather than give alms to these children, we should direct such resources to their development”, George said.

Anto Baret: Finding strength in numbers
January 29, 2008
Wahyoe Boediwardhana, The Jakarta Post, Malang

Many people look down on street children, but Anto Trisno, 50, treats them like they are his own flesh and blood.

"I want people to regard street children as their own family. They are our children; the children of the nation. They also want to lead regular lives. Unfortunately they don’t have the resources we do," he said

Instead of avoiding street children, people should give them the chance to express themselves, Anto told a discussion on the book A Note on 25 Years with Street Children, Jakarta 1982-2007 at the Malang Public Library in East Java.

"The street is not their home, the street is not their refuge, the street is their life. They only need a space to survive," said the musician, who is nicknamed Anto Baret because he likes wearing berets.

Anto is the founder of the Street Musicians Group (KPJ) in Bulungan, South Jakarta.

It all began in 1980, when Anto left his hometown of Malang for Jakarta, after dropping out of the National Institute of Technology in his eighth semester.

He saw street musicians singing on buses — passing the bucket — and quickly made friends with them. Anto said the youngsters in the KPJ were both resilient and self-reliant.

"I had nothing when I came to Jakarta. But I survived. Why? Because Jakarta’s homeless are resilient. They have developed their own coping strategies based on honesty and sincerity.

"But my feeling is street children, buskers in particular, are being treated unfairly," Anto said.

According to him, there used to be just two places in Jakarta for street musicians to perform: in Pasar Kaget (it was located next to Martha Tiahahu Park) and in Pecenongan. But there were many thugs in the area and they demanded Rp 4,000 from each of the musicians daily.

"Rp 4,000 was not a small amount of money for buskers at that time," Anto said.

In an effort to protect the musicians from the thugs, in 1982 Anto asked them to establish the KPJ. Finding strength in numbers, the KPJ members refuse to keep paying the thugs.

A fight broke out between the two groups, with the street musicians emerging victorious.

They again showed their fighting spirit before they held a performance, the 82 Street Singing Action, in 1982. It was their first performance, but they had failed to obtain a permit from the authorities.

Inevitably, the police showed up to shut down the concert. But, led by singer Neno Warisman, the members of the organizing committee, jumped up onto the stage and burst into a boisterous rendition of the national anthem, Indonesia Raya.

The police felt they had no other choice but to join in. After they had finished singing the song, Neno announced the show was over.

When the police questioned them, Anto said they had held the performance to celebrate the establishment of the KPJ. There were no arrests that day

Unfortunately, the legendary singer Iwan Fals, who was scheduled to perform, arrived late.

"Living on the street teaches us to be brave. If we are brave, we will win. There is no room for arrogance. We need to focus our efforts on staying on the straight and narrow," Anto said.

The KPJ was established to help street children because they are often excluded, due to a lack of access to birth certificates and other forms of identification

"It is those without a clear identity who need the most help. Even children who live with their parents are naughty, so what happens to children who lack adult supervision?" Anto said.

Therefore the KPJ also teaches youngsters living on the streets good manners: how to behave and to speak softly when adults are present.

According to Anto, who is married to Diah Anggraini and has three children — Sulih Savitri Anggunsari, Suluh Gembyeng Ciptadi, and Diah Puspa Jingga — street children must live in harmony because they share the same fortune. They are encouraged to shake hands to maintain their good relations and to show their thankfulness.

The children also learn that the older ones should be ready to protect the younger ones.

Members with musical skills should teach those who do not know about music. All members are also told to read the newspaper. If they do not understand the content, they should discuss it among themselves.

In order to make the community stronger, Anto has introduced the "three don’ts": don’t do crime, don’t fight against each other, and don’t do drugs.

The KPJ has also branched out to other cities including Bogor and Bandung in West Java; Yogyakarta; Surabaya, East Java; Banda Aceh; and Palu, Central Sulawesi.

There are more than 100,000 KPJ members, a fact that politicians may find interesting in election years.

The youngsters, however, are aware of their rights and not easily influenced, Anto said.

He is in the process of producing a cassette of his music. "The proceeds will go to the KPJ," Anto said.

Judge takes streetkid off the street

“I worry for the community when you come back,” a judge told a 17-year-old streetkid whose violent inner-city offending earned him a six-month jail term.

Raymond Uriah Charles Taylor was seen as a very high risk of continued offending, and Judge Noel Walsh noted that the teenager’s itinerant lifestyle and drug habit fueled his crimes.

Taylor was being sentenced in the Christchurch District Court after pleading guilty to charges of assault, possession of an offensive weapon, and fighting in a public place.

Defence counsel David Bunce said Taylor had an appalling background “with the not unpredictable results of drifting into a culture of streetkids, petty crime, drug use, and alcohol addiction”.

The probation report recommended imprisonment. “He is seen as a high risk of reoffending with little ability to complete a community-based sentence,” said Mr Bunce.

The remand for sentence had been Taylor’s first time in custody and he had not liked it.

“He’s rather young to be giving up on him,” he said.

Judge Walsh said Taylor was moderately drunk in Hereford Street on December 20 when he got into an argument with a friend, punched a large window and ran off. When a police officer caught him, Taylor was holding a pair of scissors with 10cm long blades.

The lone officer ordered him to put down the scissors but he threw them to a friend. When the officer went after the scissors, Taylor punched him from behind causing a bleeding ear and a headache.

When police caught him, Taylor boasted about punching the officer.

On Boxing Day, Taylor and an associate were walking along Colombo Street with a female friend, and got into an argument over her. They fought until the police intervened.

The probation report said Taylor had abused alcohol since he was 13, and had mixed with a group of criminal associates.

“You lack any sort of lifestyle balance, effectively living on your wits on the streets of Christchurch,” said the judge.

Sadly, Taylor was estranged from his family in the Manawatu.

“Your counsel tells me you don’t like prison. Welcome to the real world. That’s going to be your future if you don’t rapidly change your ways.”

Taylor had few previous convictions but was subject to a sentence of 100 hours of community work, which was cancelled.