Experts in their Fields
Is there a difference between asking a child to mow the lawn and plough their father’s farmland?
A journalistic discussion questioning the international issue of child labour in African communities.
It’s National Tree Week in Mozambique and we have pulled up into the grounds of a rural school, equipped with spades, ploughs, fertiliser and a variety of saplings to plant. Excitement ripples through the little bodies of the students, skimming over the heads of the youngest ones who hide behind friends or siblings until their safety is reaffirmed. As we step out of the front seats and climb into the open back of the Land Cruiser to offload our provisions, the children clamour against the sides, straining on tiptoes to see what we’ve brought. Their arms outstretched as far as they can go to be the first to help bring the young trees wrapped in soil and black plastic safely to the ground.
The Schoolkids Welcoming Us
Upon conclusion, we moved to the assigned area for tree-planting which induced short-lived arguments as children grappled to voluntarily carry the necessary equipment. Traditional spades left behind as rustic African khasu’s (Malawian name for traditional garden hoes) were snatched up by the older boys and put straight to work. The hard pounding of metal against drought-stricken soil contrasted the smooth flow of the tool in the children’s hands. A rhythmic beat resounded across the field as 4 holes were dug, without missing a beat or a breath. This activity, one of many assigned to them when they arrived home from school, came so naturally, engrained into their muscles like memory.
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On the other side of the world, a young girl gets out of bed, slides on her slippers and pulls the sheets straight. As she walks through the house to the kitchen, she says ‘good morning’ to her mother and heads to the trash can, pulling the almost overflowing bag out to take it outside for collection. Her brother arrives home from school that afternoon and kisses their mother on the cheek as she comments on the length of the grass in their backyard. Grabbing the lawnmower out the shed, he begins his bi-monthly chore in the garden. He knows his responsibility and does it without receiving compensation in the form of an allowance; the task is simply expected of him.
Little Helpers
A Chichewa-translated introduction was presented to the awe-struck audience whose responses feigned understanding but whose eyes were glued to us foreigners who spoke in a funny new dialect and whose hair and skin looked different to theirs. Intermittently, older girls would arrive carrying vividly coloured buckets, filled with water on their heads and join the back of the crowd without any disruption.
Western societies may not understand the familial roles and responsibilities of African communities. International corporations will not fund agricultural projects across this continent where children are seen labouring alongside their siblings and parents. A big, bold, red stamp reading ‘CHILD LABOUR CASE’ is slammed across the initiative and it is thrown in the problematic pile toppling over in the corner of the marble office. These companies fear for their reputation in this increasingly precarious construct of “cancel culture” that is becoming the way of the world. What they and the rest of this socially aware generation needs to understand is that there is a distinct difference between child labour and familial
responsibility.
In African culture the trend of having a large number of children is popular, oftentimes for the prospect that there will be many hands to help out around the house and that the parents will be financially supported when they retire. Chores and daily duties will obviously look different in this environment than those of a first-world community. No running water requires the women and young girls to journey every day to the well carting buckets of water on their astonishingly stable heads. Although this sounds like a tough and monotonous job, it is an opportunity for all the local women to gather and catch up. Think of it like a tea party at Walmart while you do the grocery shopping. At school, it is the same for the older girls, they are sent out to fetch water that the children can use to drink, wash their hands and shower at the end of the day. Accepting this kind of responsibility is considered a rite of passage, an indication that a girl is growing up and maturing, which they accept with ease.
The Line of Girls Eager to Offload the Trees
A Friendly Kid Happily Carrying a Tree
All the Kids Wanting to Help
One of the Boys Preparing a Hole for the Tree
The same can be said when young boys are seen toiling in the field. I have witnessed a child no older than 2 years of age, try to carry a khasu and follow his father into the field with a big smile on his face and determination in his eyes. To follow in your father’s footsteps is expected and honoured in this community. Tobacco farmers in north-west Mozambique generally find themselves in the business because it is what their father did and his father before him.
The Boys Proudly Showing Off Their Soccer Skills
Should the international investors intend to move the children out of the fields and into schools instead, then pulling out monetary support is not the solution. When families no longer receive payment for their labour and resulting produce, they become subsistent which means children are less likely to go to school in order to contribute at home to survive. It helps to remember that it is not an easy task trying to change a deeply engrained tradition such as this and no matter whether children are sent to school or not, whether there is western presence in the region or not, they will still be expected to do their chores around the house. Pulling investment out will only impoverish them further, not change their mindset. And although they should be given an opportunity to break the generational poverty cycle, no matter what they decide to do, they should be given the chance to become experts in their chosen fields, even if that field is a farmland.
Young Woman Pouring Us a Drink From a Well