MVC Vol. VI

MEDIA VOICES

FOR CHILDREN

VOLUME SIX

WE DO CHILD RIGHTS.

CONTRIBUTING AUTHORS

Fernanda Mora Brenes

Rahsaan King

Kahlia Williams

Anyokot Daphine

Len Morris

Rebekka-Tsenaye Nghilalulwa

ART DIRECTOR

Petra Lent McCarron

EDITOR

Mara-Clarisa Boiangiu

We present to you Volume 6 of the Media Voices for Children Magazine.

In this edition, we are proud to present you with a diverse array of authors, from activists, to poets, to founders of advocacy organizations. It is always important to speak about and speak to the rights of the world’s children, but especially this year: when we have more resources than ever and the incredible opportunity to DO something with everything we, as writers, researchers, academics, learners, have learned and seen over the years in the advocacy of children. Our fantastic array of contributors to this magazine, who speak to the urgency of now, include:

Fernanda Mora Brenes, an international human rights lawyer speaking of the journey of Venezuelan migrant children to the United States, and the illegal scheme to drop them off on Martha’s Vineyard. Fernanda gives us an update on the legal case involving the fortynine asylum seekers.

Rahsaan King, utilizing his experience as a community activist to discuss his work teaching poetry, tutoring math, and leading guided art therapy sessions with students around Martha’s Vineyard.

Daphine Anyokot, who writes of her own story in child labor, and escaping it, in Uganda.

Rebekka-Tsenaye Nghilalulwa, the National Lead of the 100 Million Campaign in Namibia, one of the foremost voices discussing the international situation of children.

Kahlia Williams, a Georgetown University graduate student who has helped in classrooms in Jamaica and writes of her experience.

FROM THE EDITOR

Len Morris, MVC’s own founder, with ‘The Chicken’, a story from his shoot in Kenya last November.

This is a magazine like no other, focused on promoting and elevating the voices of those who have worked with children first-hand or experienced the disparate conditions that plague the world’s children. Excuse me, our children.

We hope you enjoy this magazine as much as we do. You can contribute to our organization financially and learn more about our work at mediavoicesforchildren.org and learnchildrights.org,

With gratitude,

Mara-Clarisa Boiangiu Editor

AFTER ALL WE HAVE BEEN THROUGH

Recounting Venezuelan Asylum Seekers’ Journey to Martha’s Vineyard

THE THOUGHT OF AIDING in a humanitarian crisis for fellow Latinoamericanos on Martha’s Vineyard never crossed my mind when I moved here. It was hard to believe when reading that a group of Venezuelans had been sent to the island. All I could think was: “Almost no one speaks Spanish here; they need legal aid!” and I headed straight to the shelter. After interviewing the victims, the undeniable conclusion was that a fraudulent scheme and deception had occurred.

As we were putting the pieces of the puzzle together, conducting interviews and creating affidavits, Ron DeSantis, governor of Florida, made a public statement taking credit for the scheme in clear violation of the rights of children, women, and men who were tricked into boarding a plane by fraudulent means. The political nature of such acts opened our eyes to the magnitude of what had just happened. An unlawful and State-sponsored relocation of migrants had taken place.

The man was in shock; he couldn’t believe what had just happened. He kept trying to collect his thoughts. It was hard to explain how he had ended up being brought to Martha’s Vineyard in September 2022. He was told he was getting English lessons, cultural adaptation, a job, housing, food, a stipend, and even help in navigating the asylum-seeking process. When he left the migrant facility in Texas, the thought of starting a new life in Washington or Boston, where they’d be waiting for him, made him feel like it was all worth it, that he had made it. He’d be a fool to reject such an offer. He struggled to manage the wave of emotions while showing the infamous red folder with fake but seemingly “official information” listing the offered benefits, trying to process that it was all a lie, that he was tricked.

Finding proof and identifying the people who tricked them was a must. But making sure of the Venezuelans’ safety while identifying the traffickers was even more important. The instinct was on point, and confirmation arrived a month later when news about the woman they identified as Perla, who lured and transported them into the scheme came out. It was clearly a premeditated scheme, that had been carefully crafted and planned with the counterintelligence experience Perla Huerta gained during her service in Afghanistan and Iraq.

For the first time, the quaint community of Martha’s Vineyard got close to one of the biggest humanitarian crises in the world. The Venezuelans, forty-nine of the approximately 7.32 million Venezuelan refugees worldwide, had to flee conditions and violence like those experienced in war zones, economic turmoil and serious human rights violations, as well as lack of basic necessities and services like food and water.

It is also hard to believe that the country with the world’s largest oil reserves coexists with the world’s most underfunded humanitarian crisis. Fifty-two years ago, Venezuela was the wealthiest country in the region and one of the twenty richest in the world. Between 1978 and 2001, their economy went sharply in reverse. The richness of its land became its curse, and a petrostate emerged, highly dependent on fossil fuel income, with concentrated power and widespread corruption. This humanitarian crisis has worsened every year and, since 2015, has been the largest humanitarian crisis in Latin American history.

The Venezuelan State has deliberately targeted civilians, inflicting egregious

© The Vineyard Gazette/Ray Ewing

Venezuelan migrants gather round a table at St. Andrew’s church and parish house after being unexpectedly flown to Martha’s Vineyard in September.

violations of human dignity, as documented in investigations on crimes against humanity. Under these conditions, no warning of dangers will stop people from fleeing their own country, as it no longer guarantees their personal safety. Leaving is their only chance to survive, so they take the risk anyway.

“I feared for my life every day; I wouldn’t even feel safe in my house - afraid that I would suffer an attack from the gang,” he said, covering his eyes as if he wanted to stop remembering, lowering his head as he explained that he decided to flee and leave his two children and his wife behind. He couldn’t just voluntarily leave the Guard; he feared persecution for deserting, the gangs, and food insecurity. “The high-ranking commands live well, while on the ground, you go hungry.”

Fleeing children face the horrors of the journey on one of the most inhospitable places on the planet, the Darién Gap, by foot, attempting to reach the United States. 1 in 5 people crossing are children. 170 have been identified as unaccompanied or separated from their families, sometimes without identification, increasing the risk of statelessness. But so do the many other daunting dangers waiting on the rest of their journey through other countries. One of the results of the lack of safe and legal routes is separation and unnecessary exposure of children to violence and trauma that hinders their development.

“I saw a preschooler crying next to her mom’s corpse. A migrant woman took the kid with her at the Darién Gap - in those conditions, you’re fighting for your own life - and still, she saved the kid and somehow managed to get her out of the jungle in one piece. She safely delivered the toddler at a

refugee center near the Costa Rican border, where they tried to identify and reunite her with family.”

As the afternoon arrived, the frenzy of flashing cameras from the press waiting for details was strikingly different from the earlier scene with oblivious tourists enjoying their vacation amidst the non-stop waves of volunteers who kept showing up at St. Andrew’s Church, offering a hand and bringing all sorts of basic needs from clothes to phones and hygienic products.

The five children in the group had transparent plastic school backpacks with coloring books, crayons, and even Play-Doh for entertainment. They were kept separated from the adults and had a child-friendly space for them to play at the improvised shelter. The public has especially condemned the improper use of these children for exploitative political gain. Their parents were tricked into believing their kids would sit in a classroom, like any other child. Instead, the promise of a better future devolved into telling their stories, to ensure that none of them missed their immigration appointments as they were sent further away from their locations and with impossibly tight hearing dates.

“After all we’ve been through… Going through the thickest of the jungle through the Darién Gap and crossing eight countries! Thinking you’re safe once you set foot in the United States, only to be tricked onto a plane with the hopes of finding a job and food, and now to be here because they lied to us?! It’s pure evil to play with people like this. After all, we’ve been through… I left my country because of powerhungry politicians and all the pain they inflict on us, and then to be caught up again in political games…Right when you think you are finally safe. To feel like you made it, after all, I’ve been through… After going through hell and still being here telling the story… To be played dirty by another politician and more political games?!”

Crossing the Darién Gap, Panama © Federico Rios Escobar

Fast forward several months, the political pressure worked, and new policies were quickly set in place. A “new legal pathway for Venezuelans forced to flee” can be seen as an updated version of the deportation policy under former President Trump’s Title 42, with expanding and faster deportations of “undocumented migrants” created to justify “Covid-19 public health concerns.” Under that policy, Venezuelans were not immediately expelled in acknowledgement of the humanitarian crisis and the lack of diplomatic relations between the two countries making deportation arrangements difficult.

The “new legal path” requisites make seeking refuge for those on their way or stranded in other Latin-American countries impossible, living in the most precarious conditions on the streets as they pass though and gathering resources to continue the dangerous journey. Now they have lost their right to apply for U.S. asylum legally, and those Venezuelans who seek to enter the U.S. by land are quickly expelled to Mexico.

The new policy states that 24,000 individuals who manage to pass strict tests, usually coming from more privileged economic backgrounds, can request asylum, leaving the most vulnerable with no opportunity to obtain a permit, as they must prove they have fiscal sponsors on U.S. soil and must arrive by plane.

Here’s the catch. Due to security concerns, the U.S, like many other countries, has suspended all flights from Venezuela. This makes it virtually impossible for Venezuelans to arrive by plane, as many neighboring countries require them to have visas to transit their country. This is one of the reasons why Venezuelans opted to enter many countries through more dangerous and less controlled routes, such as the Darién Gap, in the first place.

On top of that, the new path erases the opportunity to seek asylum for those who entered Panamá, México, or the US through irregular means, making it impossible to access their right to seek refuge, because they are in breach of the conditions. In other words, the most vulnerable and economically disadvantaged children and their families no longer have the chance to seek asylum in the US, nor do those who were already on the move.

Forced to stay in transit countries that lack the infrastructure and resources to integrate and facilitate a dignified quality of living, or return to their home country, where they may face persecution and other cruel, inhuman, or degrading treatment, they are condemned to a precarious “under the table” life. This scenario worsens for unaccompanied and undocumented child migrants, as intersectional vulnerabilities make them the perfect target for perpetrators seeking to cut expenses by employing them in hazardous jobs. Several cases of this have recently come to light. Children under the age of 18 traveling without their parent or legal guardian are not eligible to seek humanitarian protection; if they make it to a port of entry without a parent or legal guardian, they are transferred to governmental custody at the Department of Health and Human Services, under the Trafficking Victims Protection Reauthorization Act of 2008.

MVC

BY FERNANDA MORA BRENES

The combined Trump-Biden policy presents a façade of “safe and orderly migration” but, on the ground, erases their opportunity to access their right to

“It’s pure evil, to play with people like this.”

Child crossing the Darién Gap © Federico Rios Escobar

seek asylum and violates the nonrefoulement principle, drifting further away from the most basic human rightsbased frameworks.

Governor Ron DeSantis, the same politician who took credit for the scheme, keeps pushing discriminatory narratives, promising to end birthright citizenship, a policy under which children born in the U.S. are recognized as citizens. DeSantis threatens to use deadly force against those who dare to cross the border over land in a failed attempt to gain popularity with the far-right minority, whipping up hate and inciting violence against Latin Americans as “drug smugglers” and “criminals,” militarizing the border and pushing narratives of fear of “others” who are not worthy of being treated with dignity, compassion or as a fellow human being.

In the meantime, a family of four asylumseeking cousins that never asked to come to the island, now call it home, while they wait for the results of the Class Action Alianza Americas et al. v. DeSantis Case et al. They also wait for the results of the ongoing criminal investigation, currently under review by the District Attorny after a Bexar County Sheriff’s office recommended criminal charges, including unlawful restraint and counts for misdemeanor and felony. So far the suits have not stopped the Florida governor from targeting more people and sending them - at taxpayer expense - to California, where Governor Gavin Newsom has threatened DeSantis with kidnapping charges after 16 additional asylum seekers were flown to Sacramento, in addition to similar schemes targeting New York and Washington, D.C.

This experience reminds me that human rights are day-to-day frameworks and should be used for guidance in public policy, including humanitarian and

migratory ones. Although countries have the right to establish their own immigration policies and distinguish between their own and foreign nationals, as well as regular and irregular migrants, differentiated treatment must be based on the rule of law formally enacted, reasonable, objective and not a violation of human rights. No country shall use irregular migration status as an excuse to treat others inhumanely or to illegally exploit an extremely vulnerable population for political gain.

After their unexpected arrival on the Vineyard, the asylum seekers were temporarily sheltered at the Cape Cod Military Base, and almost a year afterwards, they are all gone. Still the space has been reimagined and will open as a shelter as Massachusetts expands services for homeless families.

The kindness and rapid response of the people on this island restored the hope in humanity I thought I had lost... After all, we’ve been through, something good must come out of all of this.”

Venezuelan Asylum-Seeker

FERNANDA MORA BRENES has studied international human rights law specializing in women’s and children’s rights. She has worked for the Arias Foundation of Peace and Human Progress, the Inter-American Court of Human Rights (IACHR), and she was the Coordinator of the Human Rights Commission of the Costa Rican International Law Association (ACODI). She is an International Human Rights Consultant and Media Voices for Children Board Member.

Aquinnah, Martha’s Vineyard © Petra Lent McCarron

BY REBEKKA-TSENAYE NGHILALULWA

JUSTICE FOR CHILDREN BY THE END OF THE NEXT DECADE?

A Namibian Perspective on Child Poverty

According to the UNICEF Namibia Child Poverty Brief of 2021, approximately 16.1% children in Namibia are both multidimensionally and financially poor. The region that records the highest incidence of child poverty is the Kavango East region (located in the far north of Namibia), where close to 8 in every 10 children are living in multidimensional poverty.

Namibia is a developing country, situated on the Southwest coast of Africa covering 824, 292 sq km (318,259 sq mi). Although Namibia is making positive strides in terms of economic growth, it still has a large number of poor individuals and an unequal distribution of wealth. The unfortunate part of this reality is that children are the most disadvantaged, and their future is at stake.

Adding to this, Namibia, through the 2018 Namibia Labour Force Survey, reports that of 507,185 children aged 8-17, 5,136 are employed children. The reality is that this number has grown over the years and if there’s no intensive intervention, not just by the Namibian government, but together with the different global agencies such as the UN and ILO, we will fail the children of Namibia and the generations behind them.

The factors that contribute to the scary numbers of child poverty, are not unknown. However, perhaps the fault lies in the approach from both government, international organizations, and their relationship with both the public and private sectors. Many children in rural and informal settlements, although they receive proper and free education, find themselves not completing their basic education. This creates a ripple effect, as they then do

Photograph courtesy of Rebekka-Tsenaye Nghilalulwa

not proceed to vocational or local higher learning institutions. Even more so, they are not exposed to opportunities to enable them to become entrepreneurs and make something of themselves. Therefore, these employed children make up the greatest numbers of school dropouts, street dwellers, criminals, and disadvantaged mothers, who fell pregnant as teenagers.

Now, more than ever, the world needs to stand by the promises and different international instruments that we have agreed to rectify, such as the recent Durban call-to-action concluded at the ILO 5th Global Conference on the elimination of child labour. The world stands in a unique position, to simultaneously invest in the future of children alongside its rich growth in the past decade. The current call for advocacy is to transform the lives of many children in disadvantaged backgrounds through education, policy reform and technology. Children need the world to fight for them, not just through advocacy, but through financial aid and an implementation of programmes and projects that also empower their impoverished families to break the poverty cycle.

Photograph courtesy of Rebekka-Tsenaye Nighilalulwa

REBEKKA-TSENAYE NGHILALULWA is a law student in Namibia. She is the national lead of the 100 Million Campaign - Namibia.

“There can be no keener revelation of society’s soul than the way in which it treats its children.”

Nelson Mandela

MY STORY

I AM ANYOKOT DAPHINE, AND I GOT INTO CHILD LABOR at eight years old.

I was introduced to it by my mother, who was a miner. It was all fine going in to work, however, I would escape from school to work in the mines. I was at risk of men who wanted to give us money to buy ‘necessities’ but in actuality wished to impregnate us. In this way, many of my friends are now teenage mothers with no help at all and they’ve been abandoned by the men who deceived them. I never valued education at all, and I thought I had a good life. However, when the NGO Somero Uganda, came into my community, they taught my mother about the value of an education and the perils of child labor. She had me leave mining and go back to school where I am now waiting to do my final exams. I wish to achieve my dream of being a lawyer to give justice to the vulnerable.

Other things can wait but education cannot. I advocate for children to stay in school, for not using children in any form of labor, and for child labor laws to catch up with the current situation. I was honored and excited to be involved in the United Nations children’s conference this past August 2022 to share my story with whoever is interested in hearing it.

My story is meant to empower - to empower children to stay in school and for their families to be sensitized and aware of the dangers of child labor.

Photograph courtesy of Daphine Anyokot

“Other things can wait, but education cannot.”

DAPHINE ANYOKOT is the second-born child of a peasantry family, a child laborer survivor and advocate from the Tiira mining community in Uganda.

BY RAHSAAN KING

SENSE OF WONDER

Serving students has always been important to me. After Hurricane Katrina, at eleven years old, I went with my family and my local Houston Community of Faith Church to help students clear the debris from flooded homes and inundated schools. We helped students obtain access to healthy food, clean water and transportation to their new homes above sea level, outside of New Orleans.

Twelve years later, we were faced with a similar disaster in our own backyard. In the destructive wake of Hurricane Harvey, which wiped away my mom’s home, taking our favorite clothes and baby photos with it, we launched a campaign to provide free tutoring and laptops to 500 kids who missed over a month of school due to facilities outages and truancy. On major holidays, we would pass out milk cartons full of canned goods, produce, and toys to single moms. And on Sundays, after church, we fed and clothed the homeless, and provided showers and toiletries to hundreds in need.

My family has always been made up of public servants, some choosing the ministry as a vocation, but seldom did it feel reciprocal. It constantly felt one-sided, like we were dutifully helping others. Until I met Pam.

One day, eight years ago, my grandma and I were walking down a path in Mink Meadows in Vineyard Haven, when we saw a familiar face. A cute dog, a blonde mom with a pep in her step, and her husband, the renowned yachtsman Nat Benjamin, greeted us with a warm smile. We learned that they were off to Pam’s summer camp where she teaches arts and crafts, climate justice, and music to diverse local Martha’s Vineyard island children from their backyard makers studio.

My grandma gleefully accepted the Banjamin’s dinner invitation and became fast friends with Pam. What stood out most about their work at their camp, Sense of Wonder, was their mission and how aligned it was with what I’d spent my whole life doing. Pam provides scholarships to native students on the island and to children of service workers who can’t afford lofty childcare fees. She sends food, supplies, and musical instruments by the boatload to Haiti to help farmers find a better life. She even employs working class island teenagers and provides them with vocational training and leadership skills. Importantly, she does this on equal footing, not in an imbalanced or hierarchical way. Pam sits on the ground, with the kids, she stands next to them during other activities; whether they are painting, singing, dancing, or swimming, the volunteers, the billionaires, and the bus drivers’ kids are all the same.

Since then, I’ve spent most of my summers teaching poetry, tutoring math, and leading guided art therapy sessions with students around the island, both at Pam’s Sense of Wonder summer camp in Vineyard Haven and at the nearby Chilmark Community Center camp up-island which serves a more seasonable group of privileged sportsmen.

Last summer we hosted a workshop with

over 200 combined campers to paint large murals about their spirit animals, family dynamics, and life goals. We challenged the kids, while painting, to write poems about the themes from the paintings that stood out to them. To my surprise, preteens evoked wisdom about positive body image, police brutality, climate change, equal rights, identity affirmations, and sustainability. Some of the poems were funny, while others made us cry. To this day, those canvases, and that collection of poetry are the best source of awe and wisdom that I possess.

Year after year, what surprises me most is that while on paper I’m teaching them, in actuality, they are teaching me.

From students In the Wampanoag tribe, the group indigenous to the island and eastern Massachusetts, I’ve learned that diversity is much larger than black and white. I learned that even I, as an inner-city black man, a former at-risk youth, can and ought to be an ally for others who struggle and are unheard.

From some of our Caribbean visitors, I’ve learned that there is an entire diaspora of art and music out there to love and learn that speaks to me, and for me, even better than what I have encountered back home.

From toddlers, I’ve learned unconditional love. Teen counselors remind me how courageous we must be to try something new. And when students make a stick figure, a new art piece, or a paper mache rattle snake, I’m reminded that being a beginner is where possibility abounds and most grace is given, and that we should take on new challenges with pride and joy.

The most impactful memories have been: watching students who had a learning disability making sock puppets with as much vigor, skill, and focus as the rest; a

a student who had trouble sitting still, but who stayed in one spot for 90 minutes while painting an elephant sculpture; a young girl, who was typically shy, but during the performance for parents sang loudly and danced proudly on stage; and one child who seemed to always wear a smile, but in her poems we learned of her trauma and emotional needs.

Not only can we not judge a book by its cover, but if we actually take time to read we can learn more about our peers, and about ourselves than we ever thought possible.

Since meeting Pam, I’ve had many ups and downs in life. I’ve made a fortune, lost it, and made it again. I’ve been heartbroken and a heartbreaker. I’ve gone in and out of school three times for various degrees. And I’ve seen 18 countries and 42 states. But no matter what happens, I know I’ll always be on Grove Street, in Vineyard Haven, at the Sense of Wonder camp mid-July, sitting crisscross applesauce singing the jungle song with my mentors, co-creators, and friends.

Photograph courtesy of Pam Benjamin

RAHSAAN KING is a healthcare and education technology consultant, community activist, and friend from Houston, Texas. After 7 years at Harvard, and 4 years at Google, he now spends time writing poetry, helping non profits, and serving students in Texas and on the East Coast.

Photograph courtesy of Rahsaan King

BY KAHLIA WILLIAMS

A JAMAICAN CLASSROOM

I organized the desks in groups of four, because they say we learn better in communities. I added sight words from the first unit because frequency increases familiarity. I created a “safe corner” in the back right area and hung warm lights around the whiteboard because children deserve a calming and comfortable learning environment. I added posters to the walls for visual representations of biology concepts we’d cover throughout the year. And I created a “take what you need” bulletin board near the door so my students could quickly grab a quote about courage, hope, confidence, patience, kindness, and love. As I sat to gather myself before my first orientation as a high school biology teacher, the stack of barcoded textbooks glared at me. They had just been delivered from the library and there was no place for them. It didn’t make sense to put them in the cabinets because in two hours, students would waltz in to see their new science classroom and pick up their textbooks for the year. So, there they sat; on an out of place cart that disrupted the decor of my carefully curated classroom.

Instantaneously, a memory of my childhood flashed before my eyes. I could feel the heat from the Jamaican sun against my forehead, the ocean breeze against my cheeks, and the straps of my backpack sinking into my shoulders as I walked to school. Growing up in Jamaica, we did not have a classroom set of textbooks, much less books to take home. Students had to purchase their own books and bring them to school every day. So, there I was, 6 years old with an adult backpack carrying (what felt like) my weight in textbooks.

FOTO DE PAPELES ROBIN ROMANO, ARCHIVOS Y COLECCIONES ESPECIALES, BIBLIOTECA DE LA UNIVERSIDAD DE CONNECTICUT

Schoolkids in Jamaica © Unicef

I carried that weight with pride. I strolled down the streets with glee. It was a blessing to be me. Most of the children in my class did not have textbooks. I was one of the lucky ones and it showed. I was always among the top of my class. My academic success was fostered by the financial resources that provided me with textbooks, healthy meals, clothes, and a comfortable home. My academic success was attributed to access to the elementary essentials to foster a child’s development.

Twenty years later, I was in my own classroom trying to figure out how to create the best learning environment for my students. I did not have to consider whether my students had the rudimentary resources for academic success. I knew each student was provided breakfast and lunch at school. I knew they had access to clothes, at least through the school’s “thrift shop” program. And I knew they had access to an abundance of supplies in my classroom. Although trivial, wondering where to place textbooks was my biggest concern for these students. On the other hand, as I reflected on the inequities endured by children in my home country, my concerns increased insurmountably.

Children in Jamaica do not have to pay tuition to attend public schools. Nonetheless, the effects of limited financial resources are evident in the learning outcomes. According to the World Bank and UNICEF, nearly 100% of Jamaican children are attending school up to age 16. However, only 68% of students in secondary school pass English Language in the 2018 Caribbean Secondary Education Certificate examinations. The results for Mathematics are more staggering, as only 47% of students pass. In the end, a child born in Jamaica today is almost half (53%) as productive in adulthood as they would have been with a completed education and full health. The Jamaican government continues to respond to the demands of the education sector by increasing

fiscal allocations, but it is not enough.

If we recognize education as a universal human right, we must reinforce this notion with unequivocal support. We must extend assistance across arbitrary borders to ensure a more prosperous future for all children. We cannot be passive in our approach to increase access and equity in education. We must act diligently and invest our time, spread our knowledge, and share our resources in the betterment of the generations to come. Sometimes, we are so far removed from true suffering that we fixate on the insignificant rather that focus on the indispensable. Children suffer when they do not have a chance at a quality education. Humanity suffers when we squander the opportunity to educate developing minds. And ultimately, mankind suffers when we ignore the call to do our part in improving human welfare.

The call is simple: get involved! Invest your time. Spread your knowledge. Share your resources. Start locally. Start internationally. The point is: get started! There are children all over the world who are suffering, and with simple actions, you can help. You can volunteer with nonprofits, schools, and other education entities, you can teach, you can give back – anything at all will go a long way.

KAHLIA WILLIAMS is an aspiring renaissance woman with a passion for equity and accessibility in education and health. She is a founding board member of the Alphonso Scholarship Fund, Inc. and a graduate student pursuing a M.S. in Global Health at Georgetown University. Above all else, Kahlia is guided by a commitment to doing her part to help increase prosperity in her home country, Jamaica.

Schoolkids in Jamaica © Unicef

THE CHICKEN

I was traveling in Busia County, the poorest part of rural Kenya visiting the birth homes of college students that Kenyan Schoolhouse has educated since elementary school. These visits were requested by particular students, and we did quite a few of them during the three weeks we filmed in the most remote parts of Kenya - some 14 hours by lifethreatening roads to the edge of Uganda.

Carlos Otieno was one such Kenyan Schoolhouse college student who has graduated after years of our program’s support and now works as a social worker in Mathare slum, the largest and most dangerous slum in East Africa. Carlos has been supporting his grandmother, who in turn supports the offspring of her children who died of HIV. So, we are about to visit a grandmom with eight children living in a dung hut that collapsed in a sudden downpour characteristic of climate change. It rained insanely last January and destroyed the house, but it hasn’t rained normally for four years in Busia County and so the land is dry, there are no crops, there’s no food to be found. The corn is dead in the field and so is everything else.

In February we wired the funds to build a new house for the family and we wanted to pay a visit and take food with us for the many mouths sheltering with grandma.

As we drove up, our team swung immediately into action. As Teresa Otieno welcomed me with the full array of children behind her, our driver (who was born in Busia) and our social worker from ANPPCAN, our Kenyan partner organization, translated in Luhya, while my translator helped load food (and I mean lots of food) into the house, without discussion of any kind. Rice, beans, flour, salt, soap, toilet paper, sugar, corn meal, cooking oil all disappeared in a half dozen boxes.

We made clear during the interview that all her grandchildren would be enrolled in school and supported for the rest of their educations - thus protecting them from the dangers of child labor or trafficking.

While Teresa sat for an interview I couldn’t understand a word of, I moved about the property and shot film of how and where they live. This was the poorest homestead I have ever seen. As we were leaving, Teresa approached me carrying a tidy wrapped box, tied up tight, the contents not visible, and offered it as a gift to me in thanks for coming. In this culture, to refuse such a gift would be an insult and so, while protesting in English under my breath, I thanked her and accepted the box.

Naturally, as any curious person would, I asked what was inside. Glowing with pride, Teresa Otieno untied the box and presented me with a beautiful hen... the only such bird in their yard that just minutes before had been running around the property. She had given me the most precious thing they owned.

“It hasn’t rained normally for four years in Busia County.”

Teresa, Len and the chicken © Luke Catena 2022

Chicken “Len Morris” Busia © Len Morris 2022

Kenyans do not eat chicken. They can’t afford it. A chicken is for eggs. To give your hen away to a visitor who is staying in a miserable hotel in the area made my stomach turn. “Where am I supposed to put a chicken?”

I asked Kevin, our driver. I smiled at Teresa and took the chicken; we said our goodbyes and drove away with the chicken in a box in a camera van with a crew of seven and piles of film equipment.

At this point, ten days into our filming in the country, this crew is a family and there is no subject too delicate for gallows humor. “We should name this chicken” I suggested, “and we can give it to the next farm we visit invoking the cultural custom of ‘gifts’ so they can’t refuse to take it. So, what shall we call the chicken? We may as well give it a name.”

“LEN MORRIS,’ replied the crew in hysterical unison. “Call the chicken LEN MORRIS!” In less than a half hour, well after 9pm we arrived at our hotel... the one with no hot water, no light, no toilet seat and one thin towel to hand wash a day of filming children at gravel quarries off my exhausted body.

In the morning, after a breakfast that poisoned me (I ended up sick for a few days our return to Nairobi from food offered as a “welcome gift”), I went to the van and immediately asked about the chicken.

“It’s in the boot.” said Kevin. “You mean the chicken spent the night in a box in the trunk with the gear?” “Yes,” he said. “Have you given it air and water?” I asked incredulously. “Yes,” he said.

We drove away and arrived to film a group of fifteen women who have formed a self-help society to lift each other up. These women are all alone in the world, apart from their children, who live meal to meal. Their mothers are all victims of the worst forms of abuse. The sang and danced their welcome to us in our honor. It was another “Here comes

Len Morris” moment, which I truly hate. They were led by Florence Mukhwana, about thirty-five years old, whose son was a product of sexual violence.

The routine doesn’t alter. I accept their welcome and contribute a small fortune (for them) to their lending pool where they spot each other with small cash loans made to those who are having the hardest time that month. We bought a mountain of food at their farmstand, one of the many small businesses they are developing to enable them to have income and feed their children. And you could see these businesses were about more than money – it was about the restoration of their dignity and independence.

Each time our ANPPCAN social worker told them of the support we offered.... it was greeted with another unmistakable joyous outpouring of song and dance. Kind of tough to ignore. We told them we’d enroll all their children in school (we are in fact still tabulating the impact of that offer, it appears to be about 20 children) and we told them we would support all their small enterprises - and they went crazy again. It was just so touching, I had a hard time keeping it together.

And then it was time to leave.

I motioned to Florence to join me privately. I presented her with LEN MORRIS.

I told her that Len Morris (the human one) was giving her a non-refundable gift and that with it, he was giving his approval for her to decide the fate of LEN MORRIS, the chicken.

“You can set her free and she will give you eggs. But if you need to feed your family and friends, you may KILL LEN MORRIS.”

With that, we got back in the van and headed for a gold mine filled with children.

LEN MORRIS is the Editorial Director of Media Voices for Children, a documentary filmmaker, lecturer and advocate for children’s human rights. In 2012 he was the recipient of the Iqbal Masih Award from the U.S. Department of Labor for his “extraordinary efforts to end the worst forms of child labor.”

BIDI Self-Help Group. Florence Mukhwana at far left, Busia © Luke Catena 2022

BIDI Self-Help Group Member with her daughter, Busia © Luke Catena 2022

Len Morris © Georgia Morris 2022