The Little People

When I moved into my apartment, in north Omaha, it was mostly for financial reasons. My roommate had a connection to a girl who lived in an adjacent apartment and when she told us our 2 bedroom was available for $450 a month, we snapped it up without much thought. For those of you who've lived in a big city, you'll understand just what a sweet deal this is. 

 I'm not going to pretend I live in a palace. We have a spacious 2br/1bath apartment with a kitchen big enough to fit a table and a living room that we've managed to fit three couches and then some in. We see roaches every once in a while. Some of our windows don't open. Recently, our bathroom sink has become inexplicably clogged. Overall though, these are minor concessions for inexpensive living. 

 The management company we rent from is now the only group in Omaha that will rent to refugees and immigrants. Our complex is like the United Nations. It didn't take long for me to become increasingly convicted in this. From the day we moved in, I felt compelled to make a contribution to my neighborhood. To not just be the white girl who lives here but to be a neighbor and friend to those around me, namely the kids.

Anyone who knows me, knows I have a tremendous passion for working with children. In fact, my current job is the only one I've ever had that doesn't put me into contact with kids every day. Once I opened my eyes to the ones who live around me, I understood why. They are who I am supposed to be investing in. 

Bill Cosby would have a field day with the things these kids say. Once, when telling Fatima (age 6) that I went to Africa, she immediately responded with, "was you still white?" Latrell (8) asked where I was after being gone for 10 days. When I told him Ecuador, he asked,"What street's that on?" They love to ask me why I'm not married at least once a day. The next questions is then, "why don't you have any kids?" They are black, white, Mexican, Sudanese and Somali and they make me think. They are aged 3 to 11 mostly and they cuss, talk about sex,have parents in prison,  know who in the building abuses their pets, gets drunk, takes drugs and is mean to their family. Once they even told me about a man who overdosed and died in his apartment. They know too much for their ages. Although they are just children, this is their reality. It is an amazing opportunity that I have been given to have them in my life. I love to sit outside and color with them or have them help me in my little makeshift community garden. 

It is not uncommon to come home to them jumping on old mattresses in the front yard or playing house with old trash in what was once a playground. Once, my roommate came home to find them spraying refrigerant in each other's eyes. They beat each other up and call each other names. It's all they know to do. I hope that I am able to offer even a meager amount of love and encouragement to them when we spend time together. Each of them is a blessing. So, without further adieu, I present "my kids": Fatima, Fadila, Nabila, Latrell, Gisselle, Junior and Logan. You will hear much more about them down the road.