13 October 2010

Stories

Stories. I have lots of little stories, random things that happen during the day, small incidences that build upon each other and before I realise it, together they have created a greater understanding of the world I am living in.

Take last week. I had a detailed work plan for the week, a host of trial cases which I was to follow. The aim for the week was to test the M & E form that I have drafted and begin the baseline studies on the procedural aspects of trial cases at the Magistrates Court. I discovered on Monday morning that the chief magistrate was in Singapore for training, so no trials were happening that week.

I sat outside the court house, gathering my thoughts before going back to the office. A young woman was next to me with her daughter, completing some forms. Her daughers name was Letta, a toddler who enjoyed nothing more then sprinting away from her mum towards the car park. After asking how the woman was doing, Sebe asked for some help completing the forms. They were applications for passports for herself and Letta. The entire document was in English and Sebe was embarrassed to say that she was not ‘educated enough to fill them in.’ The forms required details on her next of kin, and a signature from an authority figure to declare they knew her. Of course I completed the forms in full, requiring a Swazi to complete technical English forms without any guidance is absurd.

Walking to the edge of the car park I told Sebe where I worked and Sebe replied, ‘when I need help, I will come to you at SWAGAA.’ Sure enough she came on Saturday morning looking for me, and was told to come back on Monday morning to speak with me. She wanted to tell her story: one of poverty, abuse, struggling to support her daughter and relying on the hands that abuse her to get by. Sebe needs a job.

And someone to listen to her.

She didn’t want to speak to a counselor on Monday, but the counselors here at work reassure me it takes time. This young 22 yr old has reached out to me three times, and I hope that she comes back, tells me how the job hunt went.

No comments:

Post a Comment