This story is about boy I met in Sri Lanka. Perhaps he is an ordinary boy I would not know because I‘m not from that world, but his story touched me which is why I want to tell you all about his life.
I started noticing him after a few days. His blue t-shirt was more grey from the dust and concrete and sweat was constantly running from his forehead. He was always carrying the heaviest buckets, 2 at a time, and prepared to move when anything needed. He had the lower rang among the bricklayers though they tried to be nice to him from time to time.
His name was M. and he told us that he was 16 years old (though he looks so much younger.) I kind of got concerned about him when I realized how lonely his work must be. Being a child he wasn‚Äòt really treated as an equal by the older skilled workers.He was always expected to do things quicker and better. And how strange that some white people travel half the world to do a similar job to his…
One evening Kajendran who is a Tamil refugee from Denmark (who speaks both Tamil and Danish) spoke with M. and I joined the conversation as well as I could. Apparently, M´s father was unfit for work because of an accident to do with construction, something about a knife in his head; however, the translation may have slightly changed the story. So now, M. was forced to work to provide for his parents and four sisters who went to school and occasionally worked. He was very balanced while he told us this about his realities and smiled when I added questions. And was so shy when we brought the camera, but he was also in the middle of his simple dinner. He had accepted the conditions of his life though he had liked going to school when he had the possibility. He told us without seeming annoyed that it was now too late for him to go to school (how ironic that he was building classrooms).They had moved to another place and the school was now too far away to reach on foot and a bicycle was an impossible wish. Now a bike was an even bigger desire because he had to sleepon the building site far away, whichmeant that he was away from his family for weeks. A bicycle would ease the chances to sleep at home and work nearby.
Kajendran and I looked at each other. The boy‘s wish was so simple and yet so crucial. But to him the 5000rupeesthat it would cost to make the dream come true were count less compared to the 350(ca.3⁄)rupees he was paid pr. day.
That night we talked to the rest of the Danish group, and we told them the story about the boy and the bike. At the end of the week we ask M. to come a long. He felt that something was going on, and after ended work he was hed the dust off at the water tank and changed his dirty clothes. We bought the bicycle he pointed out and after a little thought bagging M. and I wheeled it back a long the main road with all the curious eyes following us. He could not one English word but his smile was also already saying it all.
The bicycle alone probably did not change his life, but I hope it contributed to making his and his family‘s life a little better, and that they know that we did it for solicitude not for mercy. Most of all I hope that M will continue dreaming…
Pictured by Camilla Bj¢rn
