It is just a uniform. It is just a tangible sign of real hope.
It has been 5 months since Zeru and I left Ethiopia, and left the boys, many crying at our going, but with a hope of a better future.
In everything we had done those many months on the ground with this rag-tag group of street boys, the one thing we hoped to leave behind was hope. Hope for their future, hope for a better life, hope for acceptance, love, and a hope of hope.
One of the most amazing things we were able to wittiness while with the boys was the first set of 12 uniforms we were able to get for a portion of the club. The cheap uniforms with poor printing were received with such enthusiasm and excitement.
More than a uniform. It was a symbol of belonging. A sign that they were a real club. A token of pride.
Of all the requests I get from the boys, the first one is always "when will we get our new uniforms?"
Many of the boys never received uniforms, and those who did have worn theirs out waiting for better quality ones.
Life on the streets of Ethiopia is unique. The soil erodes through fibers and even new clothes rarely last longer than a couple weeks. It was amazing how well the club members kept their uniforms as clean and cared for a s possible. Proudly suiting up before practice and changing afterwards to keep the color sharp.
Some of the boys would wash theirs regularly so they could wear it out and about because of their pride. They would state to a passerby that they were Club Anbesa.
But as one boy laments who did not receive a uniform yet "All the boys with uniforms look like part of the team, but we all need to have the uniform. We all need to belong."
Compared to all the challenges the boys on the street face, what is a simple uniform? It is a symbol of hope, and a source of pride.
Though it is just a uniform, with it the boys have the courage to conquer the world and work their way out of their situation. Without it- they are just street boys who like to play ball.
Just a uniform.
It has been 5 months since Zeru and I left Ethiopia, and left the boys, many crying at our going, but with a hope of a better future.
In everything we had done those many months on the ground with this rag-tag group of street boys, the one thing we hoped to leave behind was hope. Hope for their future, hope for a better life, hope for acceptance, love, and a hope of hope.
More than a uniform. It was a symbol of belonging. A sign that they were a real club. A token of pride.
Of all the requests I get from the boys, the first one is always "when will we get our new uniforms?"
Many of the boys never received uniforms, and those who did have worn theirs out waiting for better quality ones.
Life on the streets of Ethiopia is unique. The soil erodes through fibers and even new clothes rarely last longer than a couple weeks. It was amazing how well the club members kept their uniforms as clean and cared for a s possible. Proudly suiting up before practice and changing afterwards to keep the color sharp.
Some of the boys would wash theirs regularly so they could wear it out and about because of their pride. They would state to a passerby that they were Club Anbesa.
But as one boy laments who did not receive a uniform yet "All the boys with uniforms look like part of the team, but we all need to have the uniform. We all need to belong."
Compared to all the challenges the boys on the street face, what is a simple uniform? It is a symbol of hope, and a source of pride.
Though it is just a uniform, with it the boys have the courage to conquer the world and work their way out of their situation. Without it- they are just street boys who like to play ball.
Just a uniform.
