The story behind the poem "The Law of Silence"

 

    I stayed for a few weeks in a neighborhood other than mine. There, I was alarmed by the way a mother treated her daughter, whom I would call Arie here. She beat her regularly, especially around 4 a.m., when the two got up to cook rice for the mother to sell at the market. As soon as she got home from school, Arie took care of household chores until late in the evening. I often passed her in the yard and was struck by her sad, lifeless face. She turned her head away when I smiled at her or tried to strike up a conversation. I wondered if and how I could intervene. 

We are in a context where spanking is practically part of the education of children in most families, without it being a problem. However, it can happen that the neighbors intervene to calm the situation, when there is exaggeration. But in this case, no one intervened. Was there really abuse or was I just hypersensitive? When a child can no longer smile or play, there is certainly abuse somewhere. I thought of plugging my ears each time and waiting for it to pass. But the more I was woken up at 4 a.m. by the sounds of whipping and muffled crying, the more I felt like the Lord was asking me to do something.

    I started to pray, I asked my family and some friends to pray. I understand that one can say: “What’s the use of praying? You should act." In such a situation, I think we should pray AND act. Pray to ask God how to act according to the context. Pray because beyond what we can and must do, God can change hearts.

    So I prayed and my friends prayed. I realized that confronting the woman directly would not be the right solution. I was a total stranger and she was an elderly woman who I owed respect. The Lord put it to my heart to get in touch with them gently, to become an acquaintance, why not a friend, in order to be able to show them the love of God. Indeed, the life of this single mother must have been trying. The first contact was made by going to buy a dish of rice from the mother. She welcomed me and when she sent her daughter to deliver the dish to me, I took the opportunity to ask her name, class, and wish her a good day. After this first exchange, I did not have any others with the mother, but each time I had the opportunity to meet Arie, even from the balcony, I did not fail to encourage her, with words, a smile, and so on. Once I told her that I was praying for her. At first she seemed frightened by these marks of friendship, and cast startled glances around her as if to verify that her mother was looking. Gradually, a small complicity was born, not only with me, but also with those who hosted me. At the same time, I continued to pray for her and her mother, for a better relationship between them and for them to know God's love. I was not able to spend more time in this neighborhood, but before I left, we noticed that her mother beat her less often.

    This case reminded me of other everyday scenes, where I witnessed cases of abuse and injustice. In public places, passers-by - especially foreigners - often have their pockets searched in front of us, or scammed by sellers without anyone daring to intervene, often for fear of reprisals. At school, I was bullied because of my excessive shyness, and sometimes because of my tribe, without any teacher intervening. As a teacher, I have seen this kind of behavior reproduced among my students. And while everyone around finds it trivial, it is traumatic for the targeted child.

    I think we should not remain silent when we witness such abuse. Of course, we have to act wisely according to the context; and precisely, God does not refuse wisdom to anyone who asks for it. Sometimes the situation only needs a small remark to be defused; sometimes it takes a little more. If we get used to and educate each other to intervene to rescue people in trouble, soon more of us will do it and we would thus have more chances of being rescued too in need.