Last night I went where I shouldn't have gone. I went to YouTube ... Subject: "Street Kids" ... I should know better. I've worked with street-kids for a half a century, plenty of them, right here in Tijuana. I've watched them in other countries as well. Why look at more?
I looked at street kids in India. Street kids in Brazil. Street kids in the Philippines and Mexico City. These worthless little parasites are everywhere. Millions of them in this world. They are like leeches or fleas gaining their life from sick urban societies. Born to exist but never to live.
Cops hate them because they are little thieves causing trouble wherever they nest.
Most of these kids have run from a "home" of sorts, tired of the constant confusion, fighting and abuse inside their shelter, they run, sometimes toddle to the hell awaiting them in the streets, where they find their own kind and integrate ... worthless dirty little two legged rodent's invading the streets of big cities.
Two Street Kids Huffing Paint Spray
Later, Stoned, They Support Each Other
One by one the kids realize they are worthless and unwanted. Being unloved mixes them into a different human chemistry, indeed social misfits. In many cases angry against society.
I remember visiting a city in Brazil and where I was staying; word came of a mass grave that was discovered near us. The bodies of eleven kids, with their arms wired together were laying in their grave, each kid had been shot in back of the head. Professional exterminators. Problem solved.
In that city there is an understanding of how to deal with problem kids that hang in your neighborhood. Call a private phone number ... negotiate a cash deal. Late at night a black van with a few off duty police cruses the neighborhood and quietly collect and dispose of the "problem" kids.
It grabs you.
Looking at little kids sucking on plastic bags with some rubber cement inside ... or a couple of sprays from a can of spray paint. Crystal clear eyes that once looked directly at you, now take on a glassy stare, eyelids slowly drop as they enter a peaceful, restful world. I've seen it and it hurts. A four year old or five year old "huffing", hurts bad!
Why do I look at even more of what I've already seen? It builds frustration and anger in me that combine to develop more energy that drives me on, to do more. Why? Because God loves them.
God knows I can't do it all, but I'm going to go down trying! Doing what I can, while I can.
When You Crash Anything Becomes a Pillow
