
The occupant of the other swing saw me approach and called out to someone, who made a barefoot sprint for the vacant swing. Accustomed to resignation, I leaned on the post and watched.
“Martina, give the little Chinese girl a chance to swing!� yelled a grown-up voice from a bench behind me.
Martina screwed up her nose. I glanced back at the source of the voice but no one was looking. The female grown-up chitchat had resumed. I thought of my mother. My mother never chitchatted with other mothers in playgrounds. She never set foot on playgrounds.
One seesaw was free. I could sit in the middle and concentrate on the balance. Again I was preempted, this time with a sneering “No Africans.â€? Up and down, down and up, went Martina and her friend, the former’s sneakers kicking up a cloud of dust at my face. I looked down at red patent shoes turned a matte ochre.
“Snack time, Martina! And do leave that poor little Japanese girl alone!�
A general rush for the benches, a collective pulling out of bread, cheese, cold cuts. My stomach groaned. I thought of my mother. My mother never had a snack for me on her.
Munching children soon reclaimed the swings and seesaws. I headed for the empty jungle gym and climbed high and deep into the heart of it. I had a skirt on but there was no one near.
Settling on my chosen bar, I ripped open the small paper bag that Irene had handed to me after helping me into my white cardigan. I took out a Chiquita banana and peeled it halfway. I was placidly chewing an oversized bland first bite when Martina’s smirk reappeared before me, two or so squares away.
“Affe,� she sneered. She stuck her tongue out. I retched.
Blinded by a thick liquid lens, I didn’t see my mother return to her shiny new red Beetle parked across the playground.
“Gina! I’m done! We can go now!â€?
Through the lachrymose curtain I made out a few things, such as a head turn, a jaw drop. Farther on, beside the Beetle, shiny red as my shoes had been, moved a pair of pretty calves and graceful ankles over delicate beige slingbacks. Above them, a small waist and the pert bounce of a black flyaway bob.
Dropping the fruit, I made my way down and out the monkey bar as coolly I could. Soon I was taking in a whiff of Blue Grass.
“You crying? I told you I wouldn’t be long. But didn’t I say to keep out of that sandbox? We’re having tea at the Hotel Vierjahreszeiten with Daddy’s guests!â€?
Safe ground, Black Forest snowed with whipped cream.
I got into the car, knowing I was being watched. Her obsession made her mine. The car slid forward and I glanced. She hung by a hand from a top bar, dangling.
Enroute to the Jungfernstieg, I pulled down the sun shield for the mirror. I pushed my tongue up the elastic recess between upper gum and upper lip and did the simian hunch, the scratching motion. U-u-u.
I looked forward to my cake.
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Posted on http://www.weeklyletter.com at 2006-10-05 12:00:00 +0200
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Why was the little girl called a monkey?
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Hi Gina,
a very interesting story. That must have been an awful experience. Children can be so cruel. I’ve never taught young children, but my wife does, and some of the stories she tells me about what they say to each other… phew!
At the time it obviously made you very upset, but how do you think it affected you in the long term? I’m a firm believer in the saying “If it doesn’t kill you, it only makes you stronger”. Remembering that doesn’t always help me at the time, but afterwards it usually makes me feel better. Obviously there’s nothing a slice of Black Forest gâteau can’t solve either… ;-)
Girls are mean. In my school, it’s the girls who are bullies. They bully boys and they bully each other.
Be careful, Oscar…
If a girl hits you, it’s probably because she likes you…
Girls are a bit strange, you know…
:-) !!
I have to agree. Children are cruel, especially little girls. Lots of people talk about the innocence of children and how wonderful it is that they say exactly what they think but I think that an important part of our maturity and development as human beings is to understand others and to learn to have a bit of tact.
I was a fat child with an uncommon name and an even more uncommon religious background. I got called all kinds of things by boys and girls alike. But something that I cannot remember from any situation under any circumstances was making fun of someone because of their race. We were taught otherwise. I suppose a fat Asian might have gotten her share of jokes for being fat, just as a blond-haired, blue-eyed boy would have, but not for being racially different. It probably happened, as I did not live in a utopia, but it’s not something I specifically recall.
When I finally had the “wonderful” opportunity to teach children, I, probably cruelly, made the bullies aware that they, too, had their faults and in my class, there would be no name-calling unless it was by me, returning the cruelty to the giggly little girls and the smart-ass little boys of Zarautz.
I had to put up with quite a bit anti-Irish racism when I a child living in England. Every time there was a bomb planted by the IRA (and when I was growing up there were plenty), I would get called names by the other children.
Children are cruel because they are ignorant. A little well aimed education solves it. But it’s the racsim in adults that I can’t understand – the wilful evil of the shrunken mind.
Dear Gina, Hello
The children are very vruel and tyrants in some things. When they find a possible it, they can become truy cruel. We see it every day in TV “School horassment”.
It’s important that we educate to ours children in the respect and the pluralidad. I have two daughters, both to to school where the values ç2çrespect, Solidarity, Responsability…...” the are over the matters.
It’s necessary to correct the children from small to form them as good persons.
I remember that in my class in 5º of EGB there was teacher who was always making me less note. I remember that the rest of teacher were interested in knowing because in a only subject I was going below of the average. I never knew the reason but fortunately for me that one it was last year that i received class with her.
“To madure it’s necesarry that we live through good and bad experiences”
Your articles was very interesting and actual.
See you soon.
Reyes.
I find this article especially interesting because it takes place in the 60s in Hamburg, Germany.
Martina’s parents were probably born during World War II. They were most probably brought up in an atmosphere of racism and xenophobia.
Gina was definitely one of the few Asian kids in Germany in the early/mid 60s. The Germans weren’t used to other cultures yet. So I don’t think that it was particularly Martina’s fault nor her parents’. German society was still making its way out of its Nazi past. You can’t radically change the mentality of a nation in less than twenty years.
Almost thirty years later, in the late 80s, I myself was one of the few Asian children in Spain. People would stare at me when I walked on the streets of Madrid, and most people thought I was Chinese or Japanese (because, obviously, extremely few Spaniards could tell a difference between the Chinese and the Japanese at that time). At school and in the playground, I never felt totally welcome by the kids, especially at the very beginning, when I hardly spoke any Spanish.
Interestingly, I arrived in Spain about thirteen years after Franco had died. And Gina arrived in Germany about sixteen years after Hitler had died. I don’t want to draw a hasty conclusion, but… there is a similarity, isn’t there?
Fortunately, Germany is nowadays a much more cosmopolitan nation. I have taught children of three different ethnic origins in the same classroom. They find it totally natural to be sitting beside somebody with a different skin tone, and, moreover, they find it totally natural to be taught by someone with slanted eyes and thick lips. Race simply isn’t an issue.
Spain is getting there. I can now walk on Spanish streets without feeling observed. I predict that, in a few year’s time, multi-ethnicism will be as natural in Spain as it is in Germany or, as Wesley mentioned, as it is in the USA. Even despite some obstacles that Spain still has to overcome.
And I wonder… what would Martina think if she read this article?
Yes, we were few “colored children” in Hamburg at the time, back in the 60s. On the whole, our parents were welcomed, even feted. They were a happy, motley clique of diplomats, bankers, businessmen, artists, and dilettantes who traveled the world. It was just us, their children, who sometimes had to take a beating from the Martinas who still hadn’t been taught. I don’t know if that makes one strong. I don’t know if hard is the same as strong.
I agree with previous comments that children are very cruel sometimes. Just be a bit different in something ( in my case it was a big teeth) and you’ll have someone ( even your siblings) calling you names and laughing at you. Why do children behave like that? I really don’t know but I guess that is something we have in our firmware ( speaking in IT language ) from the very begining.
But I don’t think it is just a matter of children. There are adult people that under some circumstances treat other people like rubbish. For instance, when I was doing the military service I saw people doing things to the rookies that made me feel sick. And they were no children.
It is evil, that is hidden inside us and sometimes goes out for a ride.
JC
Hi people!
i had a similar experience in the opposite side when I was a child.
I was probably no older than 10 years-old, very ignorant, and with zero exposure to other cultures (15 years ago there were almost no inmigrants in Spain, seeing a black or an asian was extremely rare).
I was with my bicycle and I saw a black kid of my age (whose parents were from Equatorial Guinea). Without reason, and without mean (just because I had probably heard some adult saying that), I insulted the kid calling him “shitty black!”. By the way, I didn’t really mean to insult him (for me it has no special meaning to call him that).
Of course the kid came at me and punch me without contemplation, and after some punches and kicks and arguing a little bit, we sign the peace and became close friends for the rest of the Summer (I never listened my parents or any adults any odd comments about him, by the way).
Usually kids are cruel becuase, as someone said, they are ignorants on these issues. But as cruel as a kid may be, he can also be rational when the time to confront a cultural shock come.
Just my two cents!
Fernando
Hi, everyone.
I agree with people that say that children are cruel, but I think that every people are cruel, no matter their age. People are cruel with people that are different, only by be different. With the age we try that this feeling be forgotten, but not everyone gets it.
Nowadays, it is easier to find other races’ children, but when I were a child, it was very difficult. If you are afraid about something that you don’t know, you can be cruel with it.
Conchi Calvo
Children will be children. Why do we treat children as adults when they are not? I believe that children are “innocent” until the age of seven or so, then they are complete hell in their teenage years and need some serious discipline, without going overboard.
There are a lot of school teachers who are really under a lot of pressure because parents refuse to discipline their children.(They don’t have any time for them anyway!) Too many of them are bent on or have decided to be “friends” with their kids instead of being true parents, who are supposed to be the primary educators of their children.
An old American saying: “like Father, like Son”... Children immitate what their parents do…that’s why parents get so upset with their children when they see them treating others so badly…it’s because everyone notices the shortcomings of their parents, not of the innocent child.
Excellent article Gina!
In addition to all the things stated above about children, that I share too, I just wanted to mention that not only kids but also adults, have the necessity of feeling accepted. “We need to belong to the group�. Therefore, kids do what they see and what makes their life more easily at any moment. They don’t stop for a second to ask to themselves “if they’re acting properly�, moreover if their friends are doing the same as a normal thing.
Little children “jump the queue” as much as they can. They take and do what they feel like, if it is simple and fast. “No problems. Life is easy. My parents love me and protect me anytime, anywhereâ€?. Parents have the challenge of educating their children, and start showing them, they’re not the centre of the Universe. This is the moment for parents to set the limits, and also being an example.
When kids grow up, things may become more difficult. Sometimes they really know the pain they may cause, and don’t care about it if their friends think they’re cool. Surprisingly these kids don’t receive any punishment, because their parents don’t have any idea of what is happeing. They’re too busy and anyway, “that are kids’ things”
Regards,
Merche.
I have this problem in the school with my daugther, by her glasses: She have problems in one of her eyes and turn them and they call “vizca”. She doesn’t ear they and figth with her problem but after in house she lament.
Children are cruel, especially children having a complex.