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On the outskirts of the Place des Nations-Unies, James Victor, a street child, talked about his miserable situation. "I am James Victor. I am 11 years old. My parents live in Cap-Haitian. To survive, I have to resort to begging. It's a nightmare for me. People insult me. I am rarely sick. Migraine and fever are the most frequent bad conditions that I endure. To relieve this, I take analgesics. "My lunch at noon depends on the remainders of food at cooking places that I get free or for some service I did. I eat once per day. On Sundays I do not eat. "I stopped going to school, because the money set aside for my schooling was stolen by a friend of my mother. I have never taken drugs. The others are taking them a lot. "With the opening of the renovated park ‘Place des Nations-Unies,' I earn more money per day than before, 25 Gourdes* maximum. Once, the police arrested me after having surprised me loitering in the street. They let me go after my mother's request. The policemen beat me up severely. But this didn't stop me from returning to the streets. Because, I was mistreated by my godfather with whom I lived in Cap-Haitian. "I would like that someone would take responsibility for me, would send me to school and give me everything I need to physically and mentally grow up." Close to the Place des Nations-Unies, Edmond Silfort, a poor child, spoke in these terms: "My name is Edmond Silfort. I am from Plaisance, a village in the north of the country. My uncle told me that I am 11 years old. "On occasion, I am a beggar or a thief. After having spent hours in the streets under a boiling sun, without eating and without a penny in my pocket, I can only resort to stealing. If I am caught red handed, people beat me severely. This has also caused me one week of confinement in the National Penitentiary. My days would be impossible if the visitors to the park would not give me some coins. Some of them insult me and ask me to go to President Préval and to ex-president Aristide. "I am a fragile child. Because I am often the victim of epilepsy crises. From time to time, I fall in the middle of the street. Compassionate passers-by come to my rescue and give me first care. "I am disabled at the left arm because of a burn scar, inflicted by "zenglendos" (criminals) who, one night, attacked our house and subsequently put it on fire. I was two months old at that time. This handicap has given me the nickname of "kokobe" (handicapped person). "The stairs of the post office are my bed. But I sleep with only one eye closed. Because, the night is the time that scores are settled. Deep sleep gives free range to serious bodily cruelties such as: putting lit matches under the nails of a sleeper's feet, or spraying a sort of mini-molotov cocktail, crafted with a thinner and a plastic can. For this reason, I wake up at 4:00 a.m. as a precautionary measure. "I was kept at a centre of charity which was directed by a pastor. But, he went to Miami and this caused the centre to malfunction. I left because I could not stand the moral and physical offences carried out by the substitutes. We speak about the orphanage of Carrefour-Feuilles. When the pastor returned, I tried to go back but they refused me." Rag in hand, in full activity, Jean-Robert Célis spoke about his life: "I am Jean-Robert Célis. My parents live in Jeremie. I don't know my age since I have never been to school. My being on the street is due to the bad treatment that I received from a woman where I was placed as a "restavèk" (domestic). I saved my hide by going for the streets. Someone took me to Radio Nationale in order to send an announcement on my whereabouts to my parents, but they have not given any sign of life. Desperate, I headed straight for the streets. "This rag that I have in my hands is my livelihood. I wipe and wash the cars of people who are in the area. Depending on the owner's mood, I receive 3 to 5 Gourdes. But, these opportunities do not happen every day. "The boats which are docked in the harbour of the capital serve me often for dormitory. By going so often there, I made myself some friends. "The prostitutes of the area steal my stuff all the time: my shoes, my money. In the beginning, they were my savings bank. Now, they steal and take cocaine continuously. Thanks to God they have been chased away by the inhabitants of the area. "I have a police friend who summoned me not to consume drugs. If he catches me taking them, he has let me know, he will throw me in jail. The occupants of the base "Post Office" continue to inhale glue that is used by the shoemakers. They try to influence me. It is for that reason that I do not sleep with them anymore. "This area is occupied by drug dealers. They have a deep-seated hate against me. A foreign friend promised me a lot of things. I am still waiting. "I was tempted once to go to the ex-president Aristide's house. I abandoned this idea after having learned that I could be a victim of his body guards. I was told that they distribute food and money at Tabarre but no one wants to take me there. "On Sundays, I don't eat because the ordinary activities stop. The street noise bothers me a lot and gives me migraine. "With the money collected during the days, I buy myself used clothes so that I can be clean. Otherwise, people would not let me come back. One day, some very generous person gave me 50 Gourdes to buy a pair of shoes. Unfortunately, a villain took it from me. The only thing that could help me out is to go to school and learn a profession." Seated alone in front of the Postal Office, Fritznel reflected sadly on his life: "I am Fritznel, a former domestic, originating from Petit-Goave. I am an orphan. I do not know my family's name. I chose to live in the streets to escape the inhuman treatment that the people with whom I lived gave me. I am illiterate and I don't know my age. "My daily activities consist of filling up public vehicles with goods and passengers. With this money I find something to put in my mouth. When I return with nothing, my friends at the base share with me the loot of their day. "Very often during the holiday season, I visit my family members. They are often happy to see me again. Unfortunately, they cannot fill my needs. In the past, I maintained good relationships with the houngans (voodoo priests) who helped me in exchange for services. "I am not informed about the deadly viruses that hit the society. I have no girlfriend nor have an active sex life. "Nowadays, I am tired of living in the stress of the streets and to lead this marginal life. I would like to join a centre of charity and have a profession. The president of the Republic has the obligation to conceive a programme to help the street children." [1267 words] * Currently, 1 US$ equals 19 Gourdes.
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