Jimmy

You have to be strong, you have to be strong, you have to be strong…

I keep chanting this phrase in my head as if it were a mantra, but only my cries (maybe) will help to alleviate this pain and anger.

Jimmy, 17 years old, was beaten to death by people or police, who are the same people who should provide us with security… I feared for the day when someone would bring me this news, and today, his brother came to KISEDET for this purpose…

Kawemba, who is another street kid, said that Jimmy was stoned and he wanted to rob a couple with him. Kawemba said no, but Jimmy was determined, but he couldn’t understand that he would never be able to get away with it because the couple was right outside a bar, packed with people, where he would be immediately surrounded by people and beaten to death. That’s how it is here; the people get justice by themselves, and if they catch a thief, they beat him to death.

Jimmy was beaten and then taken away by unknown people and no one will ever be able to tell us who killed him…

We cannot judge everyone; I will do it, because nobody, and I mean nobody, within this system, has been able to save a 17-year-old boy, whose only fault was growing up in the street since he was 6 and not having the strength of getting out.

A politician has made it clear to the people and to the police that he supports their methods against thieves, so there goes the green light… Some people are protesting online, while others agree with him.

We have tried everything with Jimmy, us and Safina, but we were unable to save him…

The last time I saw Jimmy was two weeks ago, probably a few hours before his arrest and his infamous death. He was stoned; he walked up to the car (I was on my way to Chigongwe) and for the nth time, I begged him to leave the streets and to try and get back on track; he told me would do it, but I already knew that it was just false promises. I met Jimmy when he only reached my hips, and he died when he towered over me…

We cannot save them all, we cannot save them all, we cannot save them all, but even this mantra doesn’t give me comfort, the pain and anger still rage within me…

I am angry, especially with myself, because I couldn’t save Jimmy, and also who am I to pretend I can save the children and teens of the streets? Who am I to go against the system of a country that brokenly accepts this monstrosity, and who look at me as if I were crazy just because I cannot stop my tears; who am I to not understand that that’s how it works here and that Jimmy will be the nth victim of a system that’s poor, corrupted, broken, and people will speak of him as “one less to worry about”? Who am I, especially when I ask myself each time something like this happens, if I will be able to continue this work with street children and teens, because every time something like this happens, the shock is so strong, that I believe I won’t be able to go on, but then, the days pass, the pain fades and I will fight on so that Jimmy’s death is not in vain and so that others do not face the same end. I already know that I will meet police who are not like the ones who murdered Jimmy, but those who still believe in humanity and who are siding with the children, I already know that I will meet people who will fight daily so that such things won’t happen ever again, and then, only then, I will find the strength to continue; I owe it to Jimmy, Agostino, Dany, Gideon, Maulidi, Johny, and all who lost their lives in this horrible manner, just because they were too weak to leave the streets.

I look out my window that overlooks the drop-in center, and I see passing by Justine, Geremia, Dotto, and other boys and children who came today (and who talked about the tragedy like “Jimmy amekwisha” Jimmy is finished), and I think that they could be next because they still haven’t found the strength to abandon the streets, but I also think that we (KISEDET) have decided to not give up and to stay by their sides and that we will do everything to not let this happen again. We owe it to all the teens and children of the street and those that we buried, the latest of whom Jimmy, and writing what happened pains my heart.

Gio