You cannot love the pooŕ. You can only love people. - Unknown
Hello all,
How are you? I hope you are all very well and enjoying life. My
life here is just as full, beautiful, and challenging as ever. In
this edition, as it were, of my newsletter, I want to talk about our
notions of working with ̈the poor.̈ I think that we have a tendency
to romanticize the poor, and volunteer work in general. I have been
just as guilty of this as anyone, expecting to find here some rosy
sort or world with the simpler joys of simpler living. And yes, I
have been overwhelmingly touched by ̈simpler̈ experiences here, such
as being specially invited to have breakfast in the home of two of our
students, Sonia and Samantha, where we had hot dogs and instant coffee
and spent the afternoon picking wildflowers. I have been equally
blessed by the generosity of time and spirit I have been shown by
those with fewer material means.
The reality of ̈the poor̈, however, at least in my experiences, is
far more complicated, and much less rosy. The environment in which my
students live in is adverse, and often discouraging. The majority of
these kids grow up dealing with some combination of the surrounding
issues of unstable families, unemployment, drug and alcohol addiction,
crime and general violence, insufficient schooling, lack of access to
clean water, depression, and more. Back in December, the 15-year-old
brother of one of our students (himself a former student at our
project) committed suicide after a hard battle with drug addiction.
The term ̈street kids̈ that we use to describe our student population
refers not to them being literally homeless, but the fact that many of
them spend their days idle in the streets, entertaining themselves by
playing soccer or lighting things on fire, if not juggling on street
corners for tips to add to the familýs income, or at least
supervising younger siblings. The houses that most of them live in
allow the elements to come in, so we get about half of the normal
number of students when it rains because they have to help sweep water
away from their furniture, or because it is just too much of a trek
toddling babies through the muddy streets. We have a 3 and 5-year-old
brother and sister who often come in tired, because their single-room
house also doubles as their grandmotheŕs store, which stays open
until about 11 p.m.
Where the irony of the rosy expectations often sets in, for me, is
that these people are not somehow magically, joyfully making the most
out of little. Sure, there are some that thrive, and do well. But
the overwhelming sentiment is that these people are suffering,
frustrated, overlooked, and uncertain of their futures.
Another aspect of the irony of working in this community, where
there is so much need, is that it is in many ways a difficult
community to ̈serve.̈ Many of the kids at Caminando Unidos are rude,
or even violent, and their mothers occasionally seem to take us for
granted. I found myself quite frustrated, for example, when kids
continued to show up dirty to school, even after we had made the
effort to send them home clean, or came to school with the same
ponytails that we had put in their hair the day before. I felt myself
torn between what I thought was laziness or a sort of taking-advantage
of our project on behalf of the families and my commitment to the
genuine wellbeing of my kids. So, I continue to re-do ponytails, and
now I think I understand a bit more of why.
I dońt share these examples of poverty with you all so that you
will feel sorry for the community I am working in, in fact, I am far
past that. Where I am now is frustrated, a bit disheartened, but yet
invigorated- I feel that something can and should be done to change
these conditions. My previous volunteer stints had me looking for
band-aids, like the shampoo we give to the kids with lice, without me
looking at the root problems of why they keep coming back with lice,
like the lack of access to water, animals in the house, etc. My view
of our project , Caminando Unidos, is that it really is a place of
hope for this community, sort of an oasis in the chaos and
desperation. (That said, it is also a place that is kept running not
only by the hearts and hands of everyone there on the ground, but also
by the donations made by friends, visitors, etc.) However, my hope in
the project is tied to my frustration with its very necessity. Why is
the system so flawed that these families cannot make enough money to
feed themselves all the time?
I also wonder what is my role in all of this, as a volunteer, as a
guest in Mexico? What is my role as an American, part of the global
superpower, Mexicós neighbor? What is my role as a Christian, when I
am called to love the stranger in my midst?
These are not easy questions, and certainly not ones that I would
ever attempt to conquer in a mass email. But, it́s a start of a
conversation, a more comprehensive way of looking at the problem, and
one I intend to continue to study and try to do something about.
With that, friends, I think I am finally out of words.
Lots of love and all the best,
Jenny
p.s. I invite you to check out Caminando Unidośs website:
http://www.caminandounidos.org.mx/
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment