Letting Go

Last weekend we celebrated one of the boys’ birthday here at home. Most of the boys don’t know when their real birthdays are because they ran to the streets when they were between 5 and 10 years old and have no documentation. The boys choose their birthdays and we celebrate with soda, sweet bread, and watermelon and/or bananas.

David’s party was last Saturday night. As soon as we finished eating dinner seated around the main room of our house, the boys started dancing and spraying their soda in the air. In my head, I was thinking of the possible lecture (--you’re wasting soda which we only ever have as a special treat, thus we won’t buy it again--). 

Once the floor was slick with soda, one of the boys filled a basin with water and proceeded to throw it into the room, showering many of us. (At this point I’m thinking of all of the possible reasons to scold them… “We are renting this house and need to take care of it and not flood it”…. “What will the 2 guests think who are here? What image of us are we leaving with them?” etc…)

The basin of water was the first of many and we spent an hour dodging water basins both inside and outside the house. When things finally settled down, we got the boys together to affirm David and cut the cake. This session ended in a giant wrestling match on the slick floor, several additional water basins being thrown, and a minor knife wound because we didn’t get it out of their fast enough after the cutting of the cake.

As I witnessed this party, marveling at the boys’ childish spirits despite the many years that hardened them on the street, I had to work to silence my critical voice. I realized that for the past three years, I have worked with many youth groups in different capacities and have been rather results driven, since funders demand results, transformation, and incredible turnarounds in unrealistic timetables. I have been hyper sensitive to what others will think as a result of being the butt of constant criticism (ie: Those kids are in the youth group and they’re the same kids doing x, y, and z…. They just go to that group to shout and waste their time, etc. etc.). This dynamic has led me to be on the defensive and to push “orderliness” and good manners on occasions where I really should just let go.

This life is really too short to spend it scolding those who don’t fit into the mold of a civilized birthday party.  If we spent more time throwing water on each other and having unrestricted fun, this world of norms, results, and rules would probably be a much better place.

While I was getting ready for bed and shaking from the cold, two of the boys knocked on my door to bring me tea. I asked one of them if he had enjoyed the party, and he responded: “Yes, Auntie, I have enjoyed so so so so so so much.”  At the end of the day, that’s really all that matters.

I admire Amanda for her grace in both guiding these boys and giving them the freedom to let go. If this were another home of strict rules and punishment by canings (which is the norm in homes and schools alike here), all of these boys would have run back to their lives on the streets long ago.

Many hands cutting the cake.

Just before the cutting of the cakes.