It Takes A Village

Having moved to this town recently, I had virtually no contacts in my immediate community.  With Teen1 out in the night, there was noone to call, noone to give me information about what events were on, noone to reassure me that they have their eye on the boys and will be responsible for getting them from A to B.  

Out of necessity, I have become focused on building a new village.  Success in this is limited by lack of information willingly imparted by T1, so I have become adept at finding out names and numbers of kids (I resorted to swiping his mobile while he was sleeping – others might condemn this action as crossing those ‘private’ boundaries kids are supposed to have, but necessity breeds action! And I know parents who sneak a look onto their kid’s Facebook page – ‘just checking’ they say.  Unfortunately, by doing this you can also learn some stuff you really don’t want to know about).  

When my children were little and their friends came over to play, we parents made arrangements between ourselves.  By the early teens, it is still vitally important to connect with the other parents.  Unfortunately, my son started hanging out with the boys of those parents who don’t talk to other parents (aka: the Fockers – see my recent post).  Until I initiated bringing some of them into my village. 


Here is where we started to run into trouble.  As T1 took off into the night, he was adamant that he would not tell me where he was: “Why d’ya have to call my mate’s parents?  They think you are a psycho.  You are the ONLY parent (yeah yeah, I think) who wants to know.... Just fuck off and leave them alone….”.  

His key communication tools became “Isolation” and “Obfuscation”.  Isolate the parents, and, never give out the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth (and what teenager would ever tell their parents everything! I didn't).  I, however, very primly ignoring my own teenage history, discussed with him the need to maintain trust, and by him telling me where he was going and what time he’d be home, there would be no need for me to interfere (blah blah blah).  That went down like a cup of cold sick.

Hilary Rodham Clinton has been famously quoted as saying: “It takes a village to raise a child”.   It is a saying derived from ancient African proverbs.  Clinton used the phrase in the title of a book she published on the influences outside a family on raising a child.  Her Republican adversary, Bob Dole, sniffingly retorted that it doesn’t take a community, it takes a family.  


In indigenous communities around the world and throughout history, members of the extended family or of the wider community were collectively responsible for the upbringing of children (and for many other survival tasks as well).  Now, we are in a world where due to migration, economics, transportation and so forth, the nuclear family has shrunk to be so small that access to the collectivity of the ‘village’ is severely limited. 


So who does it take to raise a child in this new world?  In my view it still does take a village – or a community, a society, a wider group of people than just the family – to raise a child.  I came to my current ‘village’ only recently, and so lost the ten years of interwoven family and friends connections that comes with attending kindergartens, schools, sports and community groups.  The transition between countries, rebuilding a life in my new ‘village’, and making new connections with parents in the community took a lot of energy – for sure, it was energy well spent, and, being a ‘connector’ at heart, it has been hugely rewarding to make new acquaintances.  I am grateful for those who have joined my village – family, friends, school teachers, community workers, counsellors, police youth aid officers -  and I only hope that I have been able to contribute to them building their own strong villages.

Yet, ultimately, the village hierarchy starts with me, the Leader in the village.  It starts with me having the skills and strength to face the trauma of the confused young teenager changing into a young man.  In the middle of the night, when the young teenager is out somewhere with no guarantee he’ll be home, I am alone and I have to rely on my self-awareness and resolve and sense of abiding faith in my son who is severely challenging my coping resources ….  and keep the village home fires burning within my heart.

Wishing you a warm fire, a close-knit village, and a deep and peaceful sleep.