Don't you love a good nap?
Hupendi usingizi mzuri?
(Laughter)
(Kicheko)
Just stealing away that small block of time to curl up on your couch for that sweet moment of escape. It's one of my favorite things, but something I took for granted before I began experiencing homelessness as a teenager. The ability to take a nap is only reserved for stability and sureness, something you can't find when you're carrying everything you own in your book bag and carefully counting the amount of time you're allowed to sit in any given place before being asked to leave.
Kuiba kidogo kale kamuda kafupi kujikunja kwenye kochi kwa muda mfupi mtamu wa kutoroka. Ni moja ya vitu nivipendavyo, lakini sikuvitilia maanani kabla sijaanza kupitia hali ya ukosefu wa makazi kama kijana. Uwezo wa kusinzia kidogo ni kwa waliothabiti na wenye uhakika, kitu usichoweza kupata unapokuwa umebeba mali zako zote kwenye begi lako na ukihesabu kwa makini kiasi cha muda unaoruhusiwa kukaa sehemu yoyote ile kabla hujaombwa kuondoka.
I grew up in Atlanta, Georgia, bouncing from house to house with a loving, close-knit family as we struggled to find stability in our finances. But when my mom temporarily lost herself to mania and when that mania chose me as its primary scapegoat through both emotional and physical abuse, I fled for my safety. I had come to the conclusion that homelessness was safer for me than being at home. I was 16.
Nimekulia Atlanta, Georgia, nikihamahama nyumba moja hadi nyingine na familia kipenzi ya karibu sana tulipokuwa tukipambana kupata kutengamaa kifedha. Lakini pale mama alipopata wazimu kidogo na pale wazimu uliponichagua mimi kuwa msingiziwa namba 1 kwa unyanyasaji wa kihisia na kimwili, nilikimbia kwa usalama wangu. Nilfikia hitimisho kuwa kutokuwa na makazi kulikuwa salama kwangu kuliko kuwa nyumbani. Nilikuwa na miaka 16.
During my homelessness, I joined Atlanta's 3,300 homeless youth in feeling uncared for, left out and invisible each night. There wasn't and still is not any place for a homeless minor to walk off the street to access a bed. I realized that most people thought of homelessness as some kind of lazy, drug-induced squalor and inconvenience, but that didn't represent my book bag full of clothes and schoolbooks, or my A+ grade point average. I would sit on my favorite bench downtown and watch as the hours passed by until I could sneak in a few hours of sleep on couches, in cars, in buildings or in storage units. I, like thousands of other homeless youth, disappeared into the shadows of the city while the whole world kept spinning as if nothing at all had gone terribly wrong. The invisibility alone almost completely broke my spirit.
Nilipokuwa asiye na makazi, nilijiunga na vijana wasio na makazi 3,300 wa Atlanta katika kuhisi kutojaliwa, kuachwa na kutoonekana kila usiku Hakukuwa na bado hakuna sehemu yoyote kwa mtoto mdogo asiye na makazi kutoka nje ya mtaa na kupata kitanda. Nilitambua kuwa wengi hufikiri kuwa kukosa-makazi ni aina ya uzembe, udhalili na usumbufu utokanao na dawa za kulevya, lakini hilo halikuakisi begi langu lililojaa nguo na vitabu vya shule, au wastani wangu wa point wa A+. Ningekaa kwenye benchi nilipendalo mtaani na kuangalia huku masaa yakienda hadi ningepenyeza masaa machache ya kulala kwenye makochi, kwenye magari, kwenye majengo au sehemu za stoo. Mimi, kama maelfu ya vijana wengine waso- makazi, nilififia katika vivuli vya jiji wakati dunia nzima ikiendelea kuzunguka kama vile hakuna kitu chochote kilichokwenda vibaya Kutokuonekana pekee kulikuwa karibu kunivunja moyo kabisa.
But when I had nothing else, I had the arts, something that didn't demand material wealth from me in exchange for refuge. A few hours of singing, writing poetry or saving up enough money to disappear into another world at a play kept me going and jolting me back to life when I felt at my lowest. I would go to church services on Wednesday evenings and, desperate for the relief the arts gave me, I would go a few hours early, slip downstairs and into a part of the world where the only thing that mattered was whether or not I could hit the right note in the song I was perfecting that week. I would sing for hours. It gave me so much strength to give myself permission to just block it all out and sing.
Lakini nilipokuwa sina kitu kingine, nilikuwa na sanaa, kitu ambacho hakikuhitaji utajiri wa mali kutoka kwangu kubadilishana na usalama Masaa machache ya kuimba na kuandika ushairi au kuweka akiba ya pesa ya kutosha kupotelea katika ulimwengu mwingine katika igizo kuliniwezesha kwenda mbele na kunirejesha kwenye maisha nilipojihisi duni sana. Nilikwenda kwenye huduma za kanisa kila Jumatano jioni na, nikitamani sana ahueni ambayo sanaa ilinipa, Nilienda masaa machache mapema, na kushuka chini na kuingia sehemu ya ulimwengu ambayo kitu pekee cha msingi kilikuwa ni kama nitapata noti sahihi kwenye wimbo ama la Nilikuwa nikilikamilisha juma lile Ningeimba kwa masaa. Ilinipa nguvu nyingi kujiruhusu kufunguka mzima na kuimba.
Five years later, I started my organization, ChopArt, which is a multidisciplinary arts organization for homeless minors. ChopArt uses the arts as a tool for trauma recovery by taking what we know about building community and restoring dignity and applying that to the creative process. ChopArt is headquartered in Atlanta, Georgia, with additional programs in Hyderabad, India, and Accra, Ghana, and since our start in 2010, we've served over 40,000 teens worldwide. Our teens take refuge in the transformative elements of the arts, and they depend on the safe space ChopArt provides for them to do that. An often invisible population uses the arts to step into their light, but that journey out of invisibility is not an easy one.
Miaka mitano baadaye, Nilianzisha shirika langu, ChopArt, ambalo ni shirika la sanaa mchanganyiko la watoto wasio na makazi. ChopArt hutumia sanaa kama nyenzo ya kupunguza maumivu kwa kuchukua tunachojua juu ya ujenzi wa jamii na urejeshaji heshima na kutumia hiyo kwa utaratibu wa kibunifu ChopArt ina makao yake makuu Atlanta, Georgia, pamoja na programu za nyongeza Hyderabad, India, na Accra, Ghana, na tangu tuanze mwaka 2010, tumehudumia zaidi ya vijana 40,000 duniani. Vijana wetu hupata msaada katika vipengele vya sanaa vyenye kubadilisha na wanategemea nafasi salama ambayo ChopArt huwapa ili wafanye hivyo. Jamii ambayo mara nyingi haionekani hutumia sanaa kupiga hatua kwenye mwanga, lakini safari hiyo kutoka kutokuonekana siyo rahisi sana.
We have a sibling pair, Jeremy and Kelly, who have been with our program for over three years. They come to the ChopArt classes every Wednesday evening. But about a year ago, Jeremy and Kelly witnessed their mom seize and die right in front of them. They watched as the paramedics failed to revive her. They cried as their father signed over temporary custody to their ChopArt mentor, Erin, without even allowing them to take an extra pair of clothes on their way out. This series of events broke my heart, but Jeremy and Kelly's faith and resolve in ChopArt is what keeps me grounded in this work. Kelly calling Erin in her lowest moment, knowing that Erin would do whatever she could to make them feel loved and cared for, is proof to me that by using the arts as the entry point, we can heal and build our homeless youth population.
Tuna ndugu wawili, Jeremy na Kelly, ambao wamekuwa na programu yetu kwa zaidi ya miaka 3. Huja kwenye vipindi vya ChopArt kila Jumatano jioni. Lakini yapata mwaka mmoja nyuma, Jeremy na Kelly walishuhudia mama yao akikakamaa na kufa mbele yao. Waliangalia huku wanahuduma ya kwanza wakishindwa kumhuisha. Walilia pale baba yao alipotia sahihi hati ya usimamizi ya muda kwa mnasihi wao wa ChopArt, Erin, bila hata ya kuwaruhusu kuchukua jozi moja zaidi ya nguo wanapoondoka. Mfululizo huu wa matukio ulivunja moyo wangu, lakini imani na azma ya Jeremy na Kelly katika ChopArt ndicho kinachonishikilia katika kazi hii Kelly akimwita Erin awapo chini sana, akijua kuwa Erin atafanya chochote awezacho kuwafanya wajisikie wakipendwa na wakijaliwa, ni ushahidi kwangu kuwa kwa kutumia sanaa kama pa kuingilia, tunaweza kuponya na kujenga umati wa vijana wasio na makazi
And we continue to build. We build with Devin, who became homeless with his family when his mom had to choose between medical bills or the rent. He discovered his love of painting through ChopArt. We build with Liz, who has been on the streets most of her teenage years but turns to music to return to herself when her traumas feel too heavy for her young shoulders. We build for Maria, who uses poetry to heal after her grandfather died in the van she's living in with the rest of her family.
Na tunaendelea kujenga. Tunajenga na Devin, ambaye amekosa makazi pamoja na familia yake pale ambapo mama alitakiwa kuchagua kati ya bili za madawa na kodi ya pango. Aligundua mapenzi yake ya kuchora kupitia ChopArt. Tunajenga na Liz, ambaye amekuwa mtaani miaka yake mingi ya ujana lakini ameelekea muziki kurudi kwa nafsi yake ambapo mateso yake yamekuwa mazito sana kwa mabega yake machanga. Tunajenga na Maria, ambaye hutumia ushairi kujiponyesha baada ya babu yake kufa ndani ya gari anaishi na familia yake iliyobaki.
And so to the youth out there experiencing homelessness, let me tell you, you have the power to build within you. You have a voice through the arts that doesn't judge what you've been through. So never stop fighting to stand in your light because even in your darkest times, we see you.
Na kwahiyo kwa vijana nje huko wanaopitia kukosa makazi, wacha niwaambie, mna uwezo wa kujenga ndani yenu. Mna sauti kupitia sanaa ambayo haihukumu umepitia mambo gani. Hivyo usiache kupambana kusimama kwenye mwanga wako sababu hata kwenye wakati wako wa kiza kinene, tunakuona.
Thank you.
Asanteni.
(Applause)
(Makofi)