All alone in unforgiving metropolis
Güncelleme Tarihi:
by Gül Tüysüz
Oluşturulma Tarihi: Nisan 23, 2009 00:00
ISTANBUL - As Turkey celebrates youth with much fanfare today, there remain many children in the country who not only have no idea what the fuss is about, but would struggle to comprehend the concept of childhood itself.
"I have allergies, that’s why I’m not in school," Ahmet said. He is one of the countless young faces scattered around the city begging, selling tissues and shining shoes. He is nine-and-a-half by his own description. He is somewhere on the Sirkeci-Halkalı train, wearing halfway decent clothes. There is little in his manner that sets him apart from other kids his age aside from the fact that he eyes people with a knowing look and his body language positions him at the perfect angle for a quick getaway.
He is clutching at his black bag full of tissues, wet and dry.
The technical word to describe him, if the issue of child abuse and neglect can be viewed with such detachment, is a child who works on the street. Ahmet does not go to school, though he will tell anyone who asks otherwise. He does not know that today is a national holiday dedicated to him, to children, by Mustafa Kemal Atatürk, the founder of the Turkish Republic, though he will tell you the best way to help him is to buy tissues from him. And so he spends his days roaming the streets and train stations looking for anyone willing to buy tissues from him.
"The wet wipes are 1 lira, the dry tissues are 65 kurus," Ahmet said. There is something heartbreakingly honest about those prices. Sixty-five kuruş is the price of a cup of tea. Ahmet says he earns 10 to 20 liras a day, however, experts in this field believe the amount such kids earn is more likely in the range of 50 to 100 liras per day.
No coincidence
This, apparently, is no coincidence, according to Yusuf Kulca the president of the Umut Cocukları Derneği, or Children of Hope Association, an organization that helps rehabilitate kids who live and work on the streets. "They are creating a scene for you. This is all done to create an emotional response," he said. His words sound cynical and cold but the rather blatant fact that this is a business to the children Ğ and the adults who use and abuse them Ğ know all too well. At the end of the day, the money that kids like Ahmet collect add up to amounts that state services cannot provide to the families that these kids often come from. Ahmet puts his earnings at around 10 to 20 lira. According to Kulca this is a low-ball estimate, the real number is somewhere between 50 to 100 lira per day. Over the course of a month this means that a child who works the streets 25 days a month can earn anywhere between 1,250 to 2,000 lira. This pales in comparison to the monthly stipend and funds available from state services Ğ the state provides 210 lira per month, per child for up to two children.
"We have to know the flow of money to these kids because what people believe is a helping hand to poor kids is actually what makes the whole vicious cycle turn," Kulca said. He is not void of emotion but Kulca takes a pragmatic approach that stems not from being alien to the plight of these kids but rather from grappling with the staggering complexity of the circumstances surrounding kids who work and/or live on the streets. "You have to break the cycle and it all begins in the home," Kulca said.
There are no exact figures for the number of kids that work the streets rather than attend school but estimates put the number at around 25,000 for the whole country and as many as 2,000 in Istanbul, one of whom is Hasan.
The call to break the cycle resonates loudly with Hasan, a 12-year-old hiding out in the Sirkeci train station. "I am not selling tissues," he said. "No, no, my father is out there selling tissues. I am not selling tissues," he said. Does he attend school? "I have a report I am exempt from school," he said. What grade? "3-A," Hasan said. He is not exempt from school and 3-A is the last class he was in. He has not been to school in three years. Hasan has no clue it is April 23 and that there will be kids in stadiums dressed up in all sorts of costumes rejoicing in the fun and innocence that childhood is meant to hold. The mention of National Children’s Day elicits only a shoulder shrug. Hasan’s father, Mustafa, a burly man, comes along and sure enough he has his bag of tissues. "No, no, my son does not sell tissues. I will send him to school next time around," Mustafa said. Ten minutes later, just across the street form the station, Hasan is selling tissues. A heartbreaking moment that illustrates what Kulca warns about. Hasan’s father insisted he wasn’t selling tissues and the first step in the cycle of abuse was clear in a matter of 10 minutes.
He is clutching at his black bag full of tissues, wet and dry.
The technical word to describe him, if the issue of child abuse and neglect can be viewed with such detachment, is a child who works on the street. Ahmet does not go to school, though he will tell anyone who asks otherwise. He does not know that today is a national holiday dedicated to him, to children, by Mustafa Kemal Atatürk, the founder of the Turkish Republic, though he will tell you the best way to help him is to buy tissues from him. And so he spends his days roaming the streets and train stations looking for anyone willing to buy tissues from him.
"The wet wipes are 1 lira, the dry tissues are 65 kurus," Ahmet said. There is something heartbreakingly honest about those prices. Sixty-five kuruş is the price of a cup of tea. Ahmet says he earns 10 to 20 liras a day, however, experts in this field believe the amount such kids earn is more likely in the range of 50 to 100 liras per day.
No coincidence
This, apparently, is no coincidence, according to Yusuf Kulca the president of the Umut Cocukları Derneği, or Children of Hope Association, an organization that helps rehabilitate kids who live and work on the streets. "They are creating a scene for you. This is all done to create an emotional response," he said. His words sound cynical and cold but the rather blatant fact that this is a business to the children Ğ and the adults who use and abuse them Ğ know all too well. At the end of the day, the money that kids like Ahmet collect add up to amounts that state services cannot provide to the families that these kids often come from. Ahmet puts his earnings at around 10 to 20 lira. According to Kulca this is a low-ball estimate, the real number is somewhere between 50 to 100 lira per day. Over the course of a month this means that a child who works the streets 25 days a month can earn anywhere between 1,250 to 2,000 lira. This pales in comparison to the monthly stipend and funds available from state services Ğ the state provides 210 lira per month, per child for up to two children.
"We have to know the flow of money to these kids because what people believe is a helping hand to poor kids is actually what makes the whole vicious cycle turn," Kulca said. He is not void of emotion but Kulca takes a pragmatic approach that stems not from being alien to the plight of these kids but rather from grappling with the staggering complexity of the circumstances surrounding kids who work and/or live on the streets. "You have to break the cycle and it all begins in the home," Kulca said.
There are no exact figures for the number of kids that work the streets rather than attend school but estimates put the number at around 25,000 for the whole country and as many as 2,000 in Istanbul, one of whom is Hasan.
The call to break the cycle resonates loudly with Hasan, a 12-year-old hiding out in the Sirkeci train station. "I am not selling tissues," he said. "No, no, my father is out there selling tissues. I am not selling tissues," he said. Does he attend school? "I have a report I am exempt from school," he said. What grade? "3-A," Hasan said. He is not exempt from school and 3-A is the last class he was in. He has not been to school in three years. Hasan has no clue it is April 23 and that there will be kids in stadiums dressed up in all sorts of costumes rejoicing in the fun and innocence that childhood is meant to hold. The mention of National Children’s Day elicits only a shoulder shrug. Hasan’s father, Mustafa, a burly man, comes along and sure enough he has his bag of tissues. "No, no, my son does not sell tissues. I will send him to school next time around," Mustafa said. Ten minutes later, just across the street form the station, Hasan is selling tissues. A heartbreaking moment that illustrates what Kulca warns about. Hasan’s father insisted he wasn’t selling tissues and the first step in the cycle of abuse was clear in a matter of 10 minutes.