WHITBY FREE PRESS, WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 18, 1987, PAGE 23 r..A'S-. SUSAN BISSELL A review of a year of UNICEF work in New York City She is the youngest staff member and "token Canadian" of the large office building in a city she can only describe as."shocking." And her tiny, $650-a-month apar- tment on the edge of Greenwich Village is on one of thTè roughest streets. But Whitby's Susan Bissell has few regrets about her first year of work at UNICEF and her experien- ce within a city that "thrives on being different." Bissell, 24, an Anderson CVI graduate, was a Trinity College student pursuing a degree in inter- national relations when she was ac- cepted last year for a four-month internship at UNICEF, (United Nations Children's Fund) headquarters in New York City. Volunteer work for OXFAM (Ox- ford Famine Relief) and UNICEF Ontario in Toronto (work which she sought after observing living con- ditions in Puerto Rico where she learned Spanish for a year) helped to earn her that opportunity at in- teÃnship. She began last December in New York City, where UNICEF's world headquarters is located, in the development education office: "It was glorified gopher work, but it was great," she says. In April, when her internship en- ded, she was asked to stay on, and "Of course, I said yes." She assisted thè'deputy director of the information and public affairs division, with a focus on inter- national non-governmental organization relations. For example, when represen- tatives of the Soroptimists (Op- timist women's clubs) came to headquarters seeking women's prograins in a developing country, Bissell found one in South America. She now looks after that program. UNICEF began after World War II to find resources to meet the emergency needs of children in postwar Europe. In 1950, the UN General Assembly reformed the UNICEF mandate to rçspond to the needs of children in developing countries. "Development" of children is the key, says Bissell. During the past year, she visited a child develop- ment research centre in an or- phanage in Florence, Italy. She also worked with children in Harlem, one day bringing them to a UN mock assembly. While encouraging children in difficult surroundings, such as Harlem, to try and get ahead, she realizes it's a difficult, often im- possible task. "They think that they can't do it, and many won't because they don't have the money," she says. She ad- ds that she herself needed financial support just to get to New York for the internship. She now acts as coordinator of the support group for children in special circumstances -that is, children in armed conflict, or children who are victimsof abuse. "I advise on where we're going in this program," says Bissell, who wants "to be with the kids." By building contacts through her headquarters' experience, she's preparing for work "in the field" -UNICEF's 88 field offices that cooperate in child health programs SUSAN L. BISSELL in 113 countries. "For me, it's smart to stick around for six months, then go," she says. When her chance comes, and if may be summer next, it will be in Managuaor Somalia. In Managua, hr likely destination, she would work with street children and children in armed conflict. UNICEF wantsato help children there but it's a difficult task to change youth so accustomed to con- There are about 2,700 UNICEF personnel doing field work around the world, with each posting lasting two years. She mentions one "in- credible" success in El Salvador in 1985 when botb sides held their fire on three different days to facilitate vaccination of about 250,000 children throughout the country. In less than successful -endeavors, such as a water well that didn't produce in Haiti, follow-ups are carried out. At headquarters, Bissell works with rather remarkable people, in- cluding "dynamic" Jim Grant, UNICEF executive director since January, 1980. Her own boss, the deputy director, is an Italian coun- tess who lives in luxury outside of the office. "She is very encouraging. She wants to hear what I have to say," says Bissell, who has found that one problem at headquarters is an abundance of staff members who merely "go through the motions" for too long. "These institutions become stagnant because they don't en- courage youth or keep them, she says. "This is not a job for people who thrive on routine. Maybe in five years Ill be frustrated, too, but then I'1l leave." And, contrary to popular belief, "There is money to be made in this business." Many UNICEF em- ployees draw good salaries, dispelling the "image of the suf- fering development worker." However, she adds: "People aren't there to make money" in what is a "real profession." As a junior staff member, Bissell isn't one of the better paid: she now earns about $1,500 a month, but will get about $2,200 a month after Christmas. That's not a lot in an expensive city. Bissell admits that the most sur- prising element of her New York experience has been the city itself, where begging is a "fine art" (one uses a megaphone) and where -everybody is either very talented, very driven, special in some way. or totally crazy. "I've met some exceptional people," she says. "It's the most in- teresting thing I've ever done. But I couldn't stay there forever." She has the utmost respect for Stephen Lewis, Canada's UN am- bassador, who is "loved" in New York. When Bissell arrived in the city, Lewis, who had never before met her, offered Bissell accom- modation at his family residence there until she found an apartment. Always friendly, open and ac- cessible, a wit and intellectual, Lewis and U.S. Secretary of State George Shultz both spoke at a function in the city: Shultz got mild applause, Lewis got a standing ovation, recalls Bissell. Before she began her internship, Bissell indicated that the experien- ce would help her decide on a future career. Now, more certain, she says, "I want to make a career of this." With $442 million to be spent this year by UNICEF (most of funding coming from contributions by governments around the globe). indepth planning and a reputation based on past accomplishments, the non-political organization at- tains a degree of professionalism that Bissell didn't fully expect. And should she avoid succumbing to New York's peculiar charms af- ter time, the only question for Bissell is where she would settle to pursue her career of child help and development Bisselllearns about covenant with street kids BY SUSAN BISSEIL (Susan Bissell, one of the few Canadians ever to work at United Nations headquarters in New York City, wrote the following article "Inroads for Street Kids: Father Bruce's Covenant with the Street Children of New York," for the Ac- tion in Children newsletter, a publication of the NGO committee on UNICEF). Dolly sits beside me in the van Scantily attired and heavily made-up, she smokes feverishly. My first inclination is to draw as far away from her as possible. At seven- teen, she is a prostitute and two months pregnant. Her pimp is the father of her un- born baby and she tells me that they are in love. Although they plan to abort this baby, Dolly is hopeful for a "real" home and family one day. When asked why she is a prostitute she tells me "it's in my blood". As we sit talking, Dolly's pimp passes us several times in his car. Dolly looks frightened, says she must return to work, and tosses a "thanks, nice to meetcha" over her shoulder. My earlier feelings toward Dolly are replaced by an over- whelming desire to hold her close to me and to help her find something to do with her life. I met Dolly between the hours of darkness and dawn, the night I spent in the Covenant House "Outreach Van" Covenant House is a short-term refuge and criss treatment center for anyone under 21, and the "Outreach Van" is its mobile component. Week-nights between 10 p.m. and 5 a.m. two staff members take the van into the streets of New York City. The goal? To provide a sandwich, something warm to drink, a sympathetic ear, and an alternative. That althernative can be anything from a few moments of conver- stion in the van, to a night of shelter. A single night can lead to a week, or a more long-term program which includes job training and real hope for a change in life. The van is only one of the many projects of Covenant House. Father Bruce Ritter, the director, first became sensitive to the issue of the city's street children in 1968 It was not until 1977, however, that he was able to open the New York shelter. He has opened similar shelters in Toronto, Houston, Fort Luaderdale and in Antigua. Gautemala; there are plans for a Covenant Houses in Alaska, London and Paris. According to the New York City Human Resources Administration. more than 28,000 homeless people are receiving tem- porary housing. This figure does not in- clude the 10-12,000 children on the streets who Father Bruce talks about. More than 1,000 of them are aided by Convenant House every month. When asked about his "success rate" Father Bruce shrugs his shoulders and says: "It's tough to measure that. I don't know, maybe 25 per cent, maybe 30 per cent. What's a suc- cess?" Being successful. Father Bruce ex- plains, is simply a matter of conveying the message of "the covenant," the first tenet of which is immediacy in serving basic human needs, such as providing food and clothing, directly and without question. Sanctuary dictates that scared and distrusting kids can have shelter from the terrors of the streets. Another large com- ponent is value communication. Covenant House staff try to teach, often by exam- pie, tne importance of trust, respect, and honesty. A fourth element of the covenant is structure. There is no order on the street. At Covenant House the kids have beds, meals, responsibilities and curfews. Finally, the concept of choice is in- troduced. There is a chance at Covenant House to make rational choice which can bring about positive changes. For many kids the idea of having a choice, let alone having the opportunity to act upon it, is totally foreign. After Dolly leaves, I have a chance to meet other street kids that night in the van. Andre and three others, who join us at around 11:30 p.m., are Covenant House alumni. All four are male, students, drug addicts, and prostitutes. They come out early in the evening to do their "work' because they need some rest before their college classes the next morning. I am struck by their youth and intelligence. Four bright, good-looking men who prostitute themselves to make $50 a night, which they will later spend on drugs, sit in the van, obviously stoned, eating san- dwiches, drinking hot chocolate. Just as with Dolly earlier, the street is more en- ticing than the Covenant House option. Andre and his friends thank us and leave. What I learned from Dolly, Andre and other street kids that I met in New York and Toronto is that the prostitutes and runaways reached by Covenant House are children. They come from all economic backgrounds, all races. and all cultures. The notion that kids with problems only come from poor homes is a false one. In Toronto, moreso than in New York, the Covenant House children are white and from middle class, suburban families But these kids do have one thing in commoin. whether they are stealing. prostituting themselves or taking drugs, these kids are scared, confused. and running. Why? Father Bruce is quite definite on the subject. "There's no family anymore," he says. "These kids don't feel like they have families or that they belong. and in most cases they are accurate on both coun- ts." The family unit in the United States and Canada is crumbling. Unstable and unhealthy home environments often force these kids to seek the urban centers of in- dustrialized countries. Once there. they try to do something different with their lives. Father Bruce insists that the local ser- vices provided tu these kids are limited and inadequate. There are many groups like Covenant House in the city and they all compete for funding from the same gover- nment agencies and private donors. Available resources are divided among them and they work together reluctantly. Public image suffers and potential donors then hesitate to contribute money. The work done at Covenant House takes money, and lots of it -$33 8 million in 1985 alone. Seventy-six per cent of that budget was raised through individual con- tributions. It's invested in New York's street kids consistent with the concept of an existing covenant. Father Bruce has few suggestions to resolve the crisis of the family. Certainly, he cannot solve the problem himself. He steadfastly maintains however, that because society is unable or unwilling to deal with the children it relegates to the streets, they have become his respon- sibility. And because he chooses to take on this responsibility. he becomes their family New York's Grand Central Terminal is yet another stop for the Covenant House van. We arrive there at about 3 a.m. hoping to recruit The train station, an of- ficial New York City landmark with high- vaulted ceilings painted with the stars of the zodiac, is home this night to dozens of people. They lay on benches and pick through the garbage Rats crawl about their feet as they sleep I shiver from shock, fatigue, and hunger even though I ate*only earlier I wonder when these people ate last No one is under 21 so we have no new Covenant House prospects We do speak to some of these people and give them sandwiches There is little else to do Our next stop, albeit a brief one, is a "crack house " Crack is a highly potent form of cocaineithat has become the most popular addictive drug in cities across the United States. Young people are literally streaming out of the house, oblivious to everything around them. They stagger to the streets. lean against the walls of the building. fall to the ground. A youth grip- ping a baseball bat comes menacingly close to the van. We move on. It is near dawn. We've run out of san- dwiches and hot chocolate. I've run out of the energy needed to observe any more of New York Citys streets. As I make my way home to my apartment I brush shoulders with a few of the people who inhabit the streets by day. The city is starting to come alive with people leaving their homes and families. en route to their jobs, unaware of the harsh realities of these same streets by night. That something must be done about these children of the night is blatantly ob- vious. Knowing what to do is less clear. Father Bruce has his own sense of what he can do. He knows that by treating only the symptoms. the underlying ilis remain un- changed. But he also knows that in doing so. he is actually helping people. 1