I want you to know but I don’t know how to tell you

Photo By Staff Sgt. Adeline Witherspoon | A child living at a shelter in Pristina, Kosovo, plays with a toy Dec. 20, 2016. The boy is one of many taken by government officials from unfit homes. Soldiers from Camp Bondsteel visit every week to repair the leaks in the roof and visit with the children. (U.S. Army photo by Spc. Adeline Witherspoon, 20th Public Affairs Detachment)  

KOSOVO

12.31.2016

Story by Spc. Adeline Witherspoon      

KFOR Regional Command East

PRISTINA, Kosovo -- “You can’t take any pictures,” Valbona,* the program director, says. “We need to keep the children safe. In case the people who hurt them are looking for them.”
I nod. I understand, but it’s hard for me. I’m not like the other Soldiers who came today. I don’t have children back home.
I don’t know what to say to the five pairs of liquid brown eyes who regard me with solemn curiosity. I spend so much time behind the camera that I disappear. It’s not because I’m trying to, but I pay so much attention to other people that sometimes I forget to exist within the moment.
I didn’t learn how to hold a child in basic training. I learned how to shoot a weapon, and later, at the Defense Information School, how to shoot a camera.
I’m with my fellow Soldiers at a nondescript, two-story home with a fenced-in front yard and terra-cotta slate roof like all the other houses in Pristina. It’s December and a tiny chimney dutifully pumps a plume of black woodsmoke into the gray sky. What makes this house different from the others in the city are the little people who live inside.
They come from all over Kosovo: children whose parents neglected to feed them, or beat them, or sold them as sex workers. The forgotten casualties of a hidden war.
“The government takes these children and we keep them here until permanent homes can be found,” explains Valbona.
For some of the children, the safety of the group home and the kindness of the women who care for them is the only love they’ve ever known. “Some of the children will never leave,” explains Valbona.
It is my first time visiting the children’s home. Soldiers from Camp Bondsteel visit every week. They repair the leaky roof and the broken back-up generator. They have even fixed the lock on the main gate so that the children can sleep in safety.
There’s a little boy here who smiles at everyone, feral and tender. He reaches for my boot laces with his chubby hands, meant for grabbing leaves and dirt. When you don’t get enough love from your parents, you start to look for it in strangers. You don’t know how to love yourself.
I found myself searching their eyes for cracks. For little tell-tale signs that make them different from other children. I don’t find any. I’m not sure if that’s a good thing.
When you’ve been abused as a child, it takes years to figure out just how badly you were broken. Years to finally lift your head from the wreckage and take stock of the damage. Did the deeds of their parents plant seeds in their heads that will grow into thick, looming trees that block out the light?
Abusive parents aren’t anomalies that exist only between the pages of a newspaper. There are probably abusive parents in your neighborhood. Maybe even in your own family. Abusive parents can’t see beyond their own projections. They haven’t even met you. All they’ve met is a mirror.
They say that being neglected causes the same chemical reaction in the brain as a physical injury. How many times did they have to tell themselves that what was happening to them was ok?
The Soldiers give them toys and candy, but little bits of plastic and sugar don’t seem like enough to make up for what they’ve lost. They’ve lost their right to the world as a safe space. They have much to mourn.
There’s a little boy here whose father drank so much that he would break bottles over his son’s head. When they shaved his head to collect the evidence he was covered with scars. How do I say to him in Albanian, “my daddy used to drink too.” I want him to know, but I don’t know how to tell him.

• Date Taken: 12.31.2016
• Date Posted: 12.31.2016 15:01
• Story ID: 219155
• Location: ZZ