Just one Child

One of the first times I went to refugee camp we were playing with the children and I noticed a really shy little girl watching from a distance. When I tried to approach her, she just ran away. But she was jump-roping so I got our jump-rope and jump-roped too. We did tricks together, but from a distance and smiled at each other. Suddenly her mother came out of the house and called her in. I couldn’t stop thinking about this little girl and just in our short and distant encounter she had really touched me. After this I continued going to Refugee camp almost every week, but I did not see her for a very long time, we were working on making a room for the children to play in so I was distracted and kind of forgot about her.

Recently I went and she was there again watching from a distance, I approached her and this time she let me. I started drawing with her and she taught me the names of colors in the local language and I taught them to her in English. After drawing for a while she got out her jump rope and I got ours and we jump roped for awhile. When she got board of this she invited me into her house. It was very small but well kept and cozy, after living in dorms it was nice to be in a house even though the entire thing was smaller than 16 by 16 feet. Her mother was there making dinner and she offered me juice. I spoke the little local I know and learned some new words as the little girl; Ana Marija showed me her toys. Worn out baby dolls that had drawings on the faces, a few assorted stuffed animals, tiny cups she used as bottles to feed her dolls, and a few plastic jewels she kept in a special little box. I took one of the baby dolls into my arms and cradled it. Immediately I was eight years old again. We fed our babies, drank some more juice then went to take her pet tiger for a walk. The tiger reminded my of my own stuffed animal tiger that had been my favorite toy when I was her age. We walked the tiger, then played tag, we raced, got chased my stray dog, then chased them, and I saw the refugee camp from the perspective of an eight year old girl. We played for three hours until it was time for me to leave. I was sad to go back to my 17year old life and she was sad to see me go. The next couple weeks I was unable to go to the camp because of school, but I thought about her often, and every time I smiled, I couldn’t wait to see her again.

When I could finally go to the camp again I kept looking toward her house waiting for her to come out. Finally she did. I ran to her and we embraced, she giggled as I picked her up in a big hug. We then started to play again, we played with a ball, and played racing until her mother came out and called her inside, about five minutes latter she came out again and we resumed playing until her mother began to yell at me. I did not understand what she was saying because as I mentioned my local is very limited so I went and got a local student to translate for me they told me the mother was saying that Ana Marija was sick so she could not play. The girl looked very healthy to me so I asked if it would be ok if we just sat and drew, the mother said that would by okay. After drawing for a while once again the mother started speaking firmly to us, so once again I went and got a peer of mine to translate. As we approached the mother she yelled at us telling us to leave her alone to “go away” this is when another woman from the camp explained to us that Ana Maria’s mother was mentally ill. I was very confused, since the other day she had been so nice to me. Ana Marija kept beckoning me to come play with her so after a short while a continued to play with her, she also explained to me by moving her hand by her head that her mother was not right in the mind, I was confused and saddened by this.

We were picking little flower off of weeds on the edge of the camp when her mom approached us again. Ana Marija went to her with a tiny bouquet and gave it to her, she smelled it and smiled for the first time that day. We continued picking flowers and then began to dance to nursery songs. Soon her mother joined us, smiling, dancing, singing and clapping her hands, she went into the house and brought out some dress-up hats and masks for us to wear and we danced around in a circle laughing and singing. The woman I saw now dancing and singing with us seemed nothing like the one who had moments before yelled at us and told us to go away. We kept dancing and singing until it was time for me to leave once again.

On the bus ride back to the city that day I kept thinking about Ana Marija and her mother, and I tried to make sense of what I had just experienced. I realized that Ana Marija probably took care of her mother just as much as her mother took care of her. I found out from other volunteers that Ana Marija also had a brother who was involved with a lot of the drugs that were brought into the camp. This also troubled me. This little girl who played with dolls, and had a pet tiger just as I did lived a very challenging life that was hidden behind her playful smile. I keep asking myself questions: where will she end up? What is the best thing for her? To remain with her real mother in a refugee camp? Or to go someplace else? Does she have a reliable adult in her life? What can I do? What do all the other children have hidden behind their smiles? All I know for sure is that I am going to keep going back and try to make her and the other children of the camp’s life a little brighter.