Free The Children. Craig Kielburger

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СКАЧАТЬ father’s ancestry is German. His father arrived in Canada during the Great Depression, when he was just nineteen. My grandfather was a big man, and from the many stories he’s told me, I know he earned money fighting boxers in Toronto, for what was considered suicide pay. Eventually he and my grandmother saved enough money to open a small grocery store close to the area of downtown Toronto known as Cabbagetown. His family worked in that store day and night. They closed the store only one day in twenty-three years, to take a trip to visit Niagara Falls.

      My father worked in the store after school and on the weekends. He thought there was no chance for university, and never even discussed the possibility until his last year of high school. He was amazed when my grandparents told him they not only consented to the idea, but had saved up enough money to make it possible, with the understanding that he would still help out in the store.

      My mother, the second youngest of four children, was born in Windsor, Ontario, just across the border from Detroit. She was only nine when her father passed away, and my grandmother was left to provide for the children. The family went through some difficult times, including one summer when their only shelter was a tent. Sometimes the family had to go without proper food. Often the simplest things, such as a bologna sandwich, became a treat. But my grandmother was a strong and determined woman, and with only a Grade 8 education she worked her way up from cleaning other people’s homes to an office job at the Chrysler Corporation, where, eventually, she became head of her department. She instilled in her children the belief that they could do anything they wanted in life, and, working together as a team, their family life soon improved.

      When my mother was ten years old, she began to work weekends with her older sister in a neighbourhood store, sorting pop bottles, waiting on customers, and delivering groceries. The whole family worked very hard, and in the years that followed, they could look with pride on the fact that every one of the children went on to university. My mother was always able to add a perspective on the issue of child labour from her own experience.

      It was my parents’ strong work ethic and belief that we must face challenges in life to achieve our goals that most influenced my brother and me. We grew up with the mottoes “Go for it!” and “The only failure in life is not trying.”

      My brother, Marc, is six years older than I am. He became, in many ways, my role model. Marc was good in everything—school, sports, public speaking—and I wanted to be just like him. He was a swimmer and football player. Rugby was one of his favourite sports, and sometimes, horsing around in the backyard, he would tackle me. Just to toughen me up, he said!

      When he was thirteen, Marc became interested in environmental issues. For a Grade 8 science project he set up a series of experiments to test the effects of various commercial home cleaning products on the environment. He was able to prove that these cleansers had serious negative effects, including the pollution of the water system. The following year he took the project one step further: using combinations of everyday kitchen items such as lemon juice, vinegar, baking soda, and water, he concocted recipes to make his own household cleansers. He demonstrated that not only were these cleansers environmentally friendly and cheaper, but they did the job just as well as—if not better than—the brand name products.

      Marc went on to prove that the paint used to decorate china plates and to label food wrappers often contained harmful amounts of lead. Food was exposed to this lead when the plates were scratched by cutlery or when it came in contact with the outside of the wrappers. As a result of his commitment, including the many speeches he gave, petitions he initiated and the environmental clubs he helped to set up in schools, Marc won an environmental award from YTV, Canada’s Youth Television Network, and he became the youngest person ever to receive the Ontario Citizenship Award.

      I think it was from watching my brother’s involvement in environmental issues that I realized children have power. And to this day, my mother tells me that she would watch me as I listened to my brother practising his speeches, mimicking his words and expressions as I followed him, the whole time using my hands as if I were conducting an orchestra.

      Sometimes when Marc was visiting high schools to get names on a petition, he would invite me along. Handing me a petition sheet and a pen, he would explain what it was all about. “Just go up to people,” he would say, “and speak slowly and clearly.” It was my first taste of activism. I was only seven years old. The high school students towering over me thought I was so cute that they didn’t hesitate to sign the petition.

      It helped that I had a bit of a speech problem. When I went up to the first group of high school girls and rattled off the lines Marc had taught me, I caused a sensation. “Oh, come and hear the way this kid talks. He’s so cute!”

      Soon there was a crowd of students gathered around to hear me speak. That day I collected more names on the petition than all of Marc’s friends put together.

      “Someday I will give speeches,” I would tell my mother.

      “Don’t worry,” she would say. “You don’t have to give speeches if you don’t want to. You could be good in something else.”

      My speech problem was caused by chronic ear infections. These infections, and the ailments related to them, were a part of my childhood I had learned to live with. A loud cough caused by bronchitis made me sound like a truck (to use my father’s constant expression). I remember one schoolteacher getting angry with me because she thought I was trying to disrupt the class.

      “Craig,” she would say, “please don’t do that! The other students are trying to study.” I could never figure out why she thought anyone would make such a noise on purpose.

      Because I wasn’t hearing certain words or letter sounds correctly, my speech was sometimes slurred. Or I would drop letters, or mispronounce rs or certain vowels. Once a week my mother took me to the hospital for a session with a speech therapist. At first I saw no need of it. I thought I could go through life without using rs. But in the end, I took the therapist’s advice and started to really concentrate on the program, including a daily session of practising a list of words with my mother in the car on the way to school. Before long, things were improving.

      When I was ten years old, all of my speech problems disappeared. The ear infections that had plagued me for so long had stopped. One day my mother said to me, “You know, Craig, you are saying all your words clearly now.” What a great feeling!

      Now I could have fun in our backyard pool without the earplugs and the dreaded swim cap covering my ears. The week-long camping trips I would take with my scout troop became less of a worry for my mother.Those camping trips were one of the highlights of each year for me. I loved getting away from it all.

      Some of my best scouting memories are the canoeing excursions we would take to Algonquin Park or Georgian Bay. Paddling and portaging through uninhabited country, through rain or shine, until, at the end of the day, we reached a spot to pitch our tents. As pack leader, I would be the one to organize setting up the tent and cooking the meal that followed. Macaroni and cheese was our specialty. In fact, we practically lived on the stuff.

      After a long day of canoeing, there is nothing quite like sitting around a fire, devouring the evening meal, and then later, as it grows dark, watching the stars come out and listening for the sounds of nature far away from the commotion of city life.

      The following spring, after my speech problems had cleared up, I found out about a public speaking competition in our community. I was immediately interested, but I had little time to prepare, and it would be my first speech.

      “You can’t expect to win,” my mother cautioned. “You will be a winner just for trying.”

      And so we decided the speech СКАЧАТЬ