Do you remember the little Gabrielle? Heres the video. Please, watch it and share it to more I cant take this shame them in the world: Elisa writes Faheem, Chairman of Time4life International Humanitarian Association: DASSA (BENIN)-a month ago ... Elisa, come to Benin with me asks me Roberta Copelli of good birth, No Robbi, should I work in Syria, you know, I dont mind of Africa, there are so many associations that work, Im not serving anything. But Roberta insists. Elisa, is there anything that I need to make you see, where nobody comes, dont make me explain why certain things you cant tell, I do not think one year to another, trust me, follow me and you will understand. We descend from the SUV after hours spent on African roads. The back is in pieces. Immediately we are enveloped in a deafening noise of hammers and a grey powder that goes into the mouth in the nose. Before us lies a chilling enough to wonder if what we see is true or whether it is one of those nightmares from which one awakens suddenly with the sweaty back. I feel like I have a sponge in the throat, I cant speak, breathe, to swallow saliva, I feel all my paralysed muscle, almost unable to move. Roberta I observe, I am trying the same sensations that she tried a year ago. Do you understand now? Asks me. I am so hallucinated that I couldnt even say my name. Babies, small children sitting on the ground, on rocks, dust, white look lost in emptiness, with legs a big stone, to break with a hammer. Stones, stones from splitting under the scorching sun, at least ten hours a day. Fingers cracking, splintering arriving anywhere, cough, and stones, nothing but stones. Roberta tells me that it is children who from the first day of life are placed on mats next to moms who break stones, just learn to walk dealing with bringing the stones by breaking the babies. At the age of three years are already adept at handling the hammer and will not see nor know each other for the rest of their lives. If ever you fall ill nobody will deal with them, the amount you earn is $ 8 per month and is barely enough to buy rice. There is no day of rest, there is no disease, there is no break, there is silence, there is no mercy. The mortality rate is equal to 30% during the first five years of life. This is not child labour. Is enslavement. Is enslavement of children, who know only stones and a handful of rice. Watch Gabrielle, has runny nose, but no matter, no one will take care of you, hes only three years, breaking the stones without even watching them, his gaze is lost, the t-shirt too short for his age and your tummy is bloated by malnutrition. Toc Toc toc, continues to work. What should I do, nothing else. I would take it, embrace it, take her away from there, give her something to eat, dress her, love her, instead of now, as I write, it is still breaking stones. Roberta Meanwhile listen to the story of Mouro, a boy of just eight years, says weeping, never stop hammering stones. He was lucky because he could go to school and work only in the afternoon, he liked so much to learn, but unfortunately, having failed his dad, was forced to take care of the family full-time. Toc Toc toc, splitting the stones and cries, the tears wash away the white powder from her face. Roberta explains that sometimes if its not too tired, like other children, follows the school lessons secretly, through a lattice of concrete separating the courtroom. Wouldnt splitting the stones throughout his life, but knows that he cannot do. Toc Toc toc. Roberta approaches me. He knows that I dont, know that I am going to collapse. I try to speak. Not a breath from my throat. Shut up and breathe deeply. The view dulls me, I might pass out at any moment. I have to be able to make a video to show it at home, I try, but the voice breaks every time. After about ten attempts seem to utter a few words without bursting into tears. Slaves. Little slaves, that with 15 euros per month could go to school and eat every day. I wonder how a human being can allow all this. I wonder how we can shut up all this. I am ashamed to be a person, I am ashamed to be in front of them, I am ashamed to be part of a company where you can take a child, make him a slave, destroy his life, his hope, his future, to buy stones at a price beat, which will then be used in construction. If this is possible it is the fault of each of us. No one speaks. The return is not a Word. I find myself watching the videos and photos more times to be sure that what I saw really exists. Do not sleep. Gabriels gaze that crosses my pierces me for one second as a dagger in the stomach. Only I can fall asleep at dawn for exhaustion. After half an hour I wake up, in the first few seconds I am convinced you its just been a nightmare. Slowly my mind realizes that but no, maybe it was real, I grab the phone to try to understand, about the video, it wasnt a nightmare, it was all true. I and others of the group we launch looks without speaking. You dont need. We all have the same thought. We all have the same torment inside. We all want to take them away from them, send them to school, and ensure them a full meal. View Gabriel, please, look at her, look at her not once but two, ten, a hundred times. Please look at it every morning when you wake up. Gabriel, the small stone breaker, Gabriel, is my daughter is your daughter, is our daughter.
Posted on: Sun, 28 Sep 2014 16:34:09 +0000
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