Translating

This morning, I went to Arlington (the school the boys go to) to translate for the three of the Congolese families. Usually such conferences involve me trying to remind people that these kids have been through a lot, and so when they have behavior breakdowns, it's a lot more than language and culture differences.

I am working with a little boy, Schadrach. When his father was asked are there anythings the teachers and staff need to know about Schadrach, or about Congolese culture that could help in communicating, the father gave a brief account of what the boy had been through. Bruno, the father was a minor functionary in the government, and when the fighting started, he had to flee without his wife and children. So Schadrach feared he might not see his father again. He saw lots of killing. Bruno said he saw different toys in the school, and he hoped there weren't any toy guns because that really affects Schadrach. "Traumatize" was the word he used.

Schadrach misses his grandmother, still in Congo. I think if John misses Mammaw from one weekend to the next, how much more Schadrach? Pulled from his home, witnessing unimaginable violence (Congo's war is the most violent conflict since WW II), stuck in a refugee camp, in a new country where he doesn't know the language. I saw this with Rosey last year-- it's a hard time, getting acclimated. It's hard to explain that one day he'll make friends, that it will take time. Until then, you'll be a sad, lonely boy, that's what I'd really be saying.

Schadrach was born the day after John. Such different lives.