Heartfelt Mush
There's nothing like standing and trying to bop around to Vietnamese pop with a little child sitting on your shoe and hugging his entire body around your leg like there's no tomorrow. Almost everyday I visit the kids at a safety house for street children, not just because it's part of my research, but because the sense of warmth and energy from the kids is almost addictive, and because I love their company as much as they seem to love mine. It's interesting how the will to do good to others regenerates itself upon execution, in both the giver and the receiver.
So I plan to start collecting data for my fulbright work in another week, as I am carefully planning out the curriculum and activities list at the moment. If you missed my earlier briefings through email, under the wing of the Department of Sociology at Vietnam National University in Ho Chi Minh City, I am studying the pyschology and mental hygiene of former street children through their use of art and story-telling. I will be opening a regular class at the saftey house with creative expression as the main goal, each week having a general theme such as family, nature, dreams, foreigners, etc. At the end of each week, I will ask for submissions of the artwork that they think most represents their own sentiments of the greater theme. It'll be really exciting, because we will be testing out all types of artistic media, from normal crayons and paints to photography and cartooning. Hopefully, friends of friends will help me invite well-known Vietnamese artists to come teach the kids a thing or two about their individual styles. In addition, I hope to create postcards or calendars out of the children's artwork in order to do some fundraising for the kids back in the States.
Anyway, when it comes to children, there's something special in physical proximity and body language. I remember when I was little and able to grapple my entire body around my mom or dad as they carried me in their arms. I could rest my head in the crook of their necks and just close my eyes. I always refer to my own childhood in terms of the way I like to treat kids, so that I can think like them and fulfill their needs in the most constructive way. Not meaning to be overly sentimental or anything, I leave you with a vision of a simple friday night hanging out at the safety house - me sitting on the tile floor with about 10 kids, ages 6 to 16, watching Vietnamese karaoke on the small tv, my outstretched legs serving as a pillow for the two youngest ones whose eyes are slowly fluttering to sleep...