I'm starting my last week of work here in Nairobi..which is crazy! But one thing I've been thinking about a lot since I've been in Kenya is what I'm going to do with the rest of my life. I graduated from college 2 months ago and I still have no clue what kind of career path I'm on...I realize that's something I probably should've figured out before graduation, but oh well! The point is, I have no idea what I want to do with my life. But I do know what I don't want to do with it...and that is live it completely for myself. I am honestly terrified of having a real grown up job (anyone who knows me knows that!) but I realize at some point it might be necessary. What scares me about it though, is the awful cycle of selfishness that grown up jobs come with. You work to get money to live but most of your life is spent at work....for what? So I can have a nice house and a car and cable and weekly trips to Taco Bell? It just seems like a crazy cycle to me. You're working just to sustain your lifestyle, your own standard of living. But why?? What good is it doing me or anyone to just have this mediochre life filled with work and spending money and more work and then spending more money? It just all seems crazy to me. Isn't the definition of insane doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results? (Mind you, I didn't actually look that up, I heard it somewhere and am for some reason too lazy right now to type in "Definition of insane" into the little search box at the top of my browser...I guess Africa hasn't changed me that much after all haha) My point is...working just to get money to live, and then living just to work, seems like the actions of a crazy person.
I don't want to live like that. I don't want my life to be lived out for my own personal enjoyment. That's not why I'm here. I don't know what I want to do, but I know that I can't survive in a 9 to 5 job, just working for the money. I need more than that. I need to live for something or someone other than myself. I don't want to look back in 30 years and realize I have absolutely nothing to show for it but stuff.
I was thinking about that at church this weekend. We went to a pretty cool church service at the place we're staying, it was kind of American-ized but it was run all by Kenyans and seemed geared toward younger people. It was a good time. They played a number of songs I'd never heard of before and one of them went like this: "Yes, I surrender all. Yes, I turn it all over. Yes, it all belongs to you." While we were singing this I realized something....my life isn't my own anyways. It belongs to God. Living it for Christ isn't something I can do if and when I feel like it. It's who I am. I gave up my life a long time ago when I accepted Christ's gift of salvation and forgiveness and grace. It's not mine anymore, it's not up to me to live-- it's Christ's life. I am literally just a body for Him to use. It's ridiculous at this point for me to think about what I want to do or where I want to go or what I want to use this life for because it's not up to me.
This life isn't mine anymore, but for some reason I keep trying to use it like it is. I accepted Christ's gift and gave him my life, but for some reason I'm still trying to use it like it's my own. It's like giving someone a pair of socks for their birthday and then wearing the socks everyday for the next 10 years, but always referring to them as someone else's socks. That's just silly. You wear them, you wash them (hopefully), they're in your drawer at home. Just claiming they're someone else's socks doesn't make it true. You're treating them like your own. And that's what I've been doing with my life. I claim it's Christ's but I use it as my own. Basically, I'm an indian giver (please forgive the distasteful stereotype of Indians...I didn't coin the term, I just use it. I'm sure any time you get a gift from a real live Indian you get to keep it).
I gave up my life. I gave it to Christ. So it's kind of silly for me to be using it like it's my own to do what I want with. My life is Christ's so if he sees fit to give me a job or make me homeless or have me date someone or break up with them or be super healthy or get an awful disease....it's ok, because it's His life to do what He wants with. Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying I have no control over my own life or all my decisions are made for me. That's the whole point of free will, God trusts us enough to be stewards of the lives He has so graciously given us. And I'm also not saying that God is going to tell me specifically where to live or what to do or who to be with. I don't believe God has a super duper specific will for our lives, His will in general is for us to tell people about Him and His love. But God's will is a topic for a whole other discussion. My point is that they're God's socks, He's just letting me borrow them for now. So I need to act like it.
What I'm trying to say is that it's not my life to be lived for my own selfish desires. The purpose of my life isn't to be happy or to have money or to even have a family or a job. The purpose of my life is to spread the love of Christ. So no matter what I do or where I go or what happens to me in the next 10 years I know I need to keep in mind that this life isn't mine. I gave it away. I need to use it the way God wants me to---telling people that He loves them more than they can fathom and that all He wants is for them to love Him back.
**I'd like to make a short disclaimer here and just say that I do not think people with real grown up jobs are terrible people that live only for themselves and are incredibly shallow and selfish. There are much better people than me working real jobs and being amazing witnesses of Christ to their coworkers and neighbors and friends and everyone they meet. Personally, I just really hate having a real job :) I just wanted to throw that out there.**
Monday, July 19, 2010
Thursday, July 15, 2010
The Comforts of Comfort
So one thing I am not in Kenya is comfortable. No matter how much fun I'm having or how great I feel, I'm still not ever comfortable. Whether it's because I don't understand cultural differences or because the thought of eating another plate of rice makes me want to stab myself in the eye or the jarring, roller coaster-eque matatu rides I take daily...I'm just not comfortable. But that's ok. One thing I've learned here is how insistent Americans are on their own personal comfort. Maybe not all Americans, but I know I sure was/am (although I don't really have a choice here).
People think their comfort is the most important thing in the entire world. I mean, we complain when it's hot, we complain when it's cold, we complain when we're hungry, we complain when we're full, we complain when someone cuts us off in traffic or when they're going too fast or too slow. We complain about everything because we think our comfort is the most important thing in everyone else's world. I'm realizing it really isn't.
I think I'm more guilty of this than anyone. Growing up in America you learn that literally anything you want is available to you almost any time you want it. There is little to nothing that we can't have or can't get. I realized how much I depend on my own comfort about a month before I left for Kenya. There were these shoes I really liked at Old Navy, they were really cute and comfortable and I didn't have to wear socks with them, and I always have to wear socks with shoes, so I was super excited to get them and wear them in Kenya with my capris and be a super styling American missionary :) I found them at an Old Navy in Cincinnati but they didn't have my size in the color I wanted, so I went home and checked online. They didn't have them there either. So I called all of the Old Navy's in a 30 mile radius and sure enough, none of them had the shoes I wanted. I was seriously upset. I remember being alone in my apartment, searching eBay and Amazon and every website I could think of to find a pair of these shoes and I couldn't find them anywhere, and then starting to freak out because these shoes literally no longer existed. I remember sitting there going on and on (yes out loud, and yes I was alone, yes I was talking to myself don't judge) about how this is America and what kind of capitalistic democracy is this if I can't find one single pair of shoes that I want!? I should be able to find anything that I want, I mean, I'm in America for goodness sakes!
Yes I realize this was a bit of an overreaction. And I actually ended up finding a pair of the shoes I wanted haha So I can't say I learned my lesson. But I did realize that I am a ridiculous, spoiled, selfish American. I was actually surprised and upset when I didn't get exactly what I wanted. And that's not the first time that's happened. I think I am probably one of the most easily disappointed people on the planet. My entire day can be ruined because the Blue Chip Cookie store at the mall is out of M&M sugar cookies. How ridiculous is that?
But people in Kenya simply aren't like that. Not just because they can't afford it, but because they don't expect to be comfortable or catered to at every turn. Even middle class Kenyans live in some pretty rough conditions. Their transportation options are awful, at best. No one has their own car, they ride matatus everywhere, and it's never a fun of comfortable ride. It's literally always painful at some point, whether you hit your head on the roof or your knees on the seat in front of you or someone elbows you in the head or the driver decides that roads are more of a suggestion than a necessity. You can never get on one and expect a smooth, injury free ride.
Their restaurants are sketchy to say the least. Over half the time they don't have 75% of their menu. They just don't have it. Some days they have fish, some days they have chicken, some days they have beef, but rarely do you ever get the option of all 3. Whenever you order you have to have at least a Plan B, if not a Plan C, and you can never get excited about eating anything because chances are, they won't have whatever it is you want. No restaurant in America could survivie like that. People would be outraged if they couldn't eat exactly what they ordered. The whole concept of "the customer is always right" is completely ridiculous here. You take what you can get and you're thankful for it.
The restaurants are also insanely terrifying for a germophobe (luckily I don't suffer from that condition), people get food poisoning all the time and it's just no big deal. It's part of life. I heard some Kenyans talking about a prayer they say before they eat sometimes, something about God thank you for this food, please don't let it hurt us, Amen. They said it kind of as a joke, but they were serious. You really never know when the water or the fruit or the meat is going to make you crazy sick. If anyone gets food poisoning in America the entire judicial system comes crashing down on whatever poor restaurant owner accidentally bought a bad piece of beef.
I don't really have any sort of big, serious point here, except to say that being in Kenya has made me realize how focused I am on my own comfort, my own pleasurse, my own everything. I'm not saying that it has changed drastically, I mean I'm more aware of it now, but I still catch myself focusing on what I want or what I think I need or how I feel. I guess that's not something that ever goes away, especially for an American. But I really pray that by the time I get back I'll be more comfortable with being uncomfortable.
People think their comfort is the most important thing in the entire world. I mean, we complain when it's hot, we complain when it's cold, we complain when we're hungry, we complain when we're full, we complain when someone cuts us off in traffic or when they're going too fast or too slow. We complain about everything because we think our comfort is the most important thing in everyone else's world. I'm realizing it really isn't.
I think I'm more guilty of this than anyone. Growing up in America you learn that literally anything you want is available to you almost any time you want it. There is little to nothing that we can't have or can't get. I realized how much I depend on my own comfort about a month before I left for Kenya. There were these shoes I really liked at Old Navy, they were really cute and comfortable and I didn't have to wear socks with them, and I always have to wear socks with shoes, so I was super excited to get them and wear them in Kenya with my capris and be a super styling American missionary :) I found them at an Old Navy in Cincinnati but they didn't have my size in the color I wanted, so I went home and checked online. They didn't have them there either. So I called all of the Old Navy's in a 30 mile radius and sure enough, none of them had the shoes I wanted. I was seriously upset. I remember being alone in my apartment, searching eBay and Amazon and every website I could think of to find a pair of these shoes and I couldn't find them anywhere, and then starting to freak out because these shoes literally no longer existed. I remember sitting there going on and on (yes out loud, and yes I was alone, yes I was talking to myself don't judge) about how this is America and what kind of capitalistic democracy is this if I can't find one single pair of shoes that I want!? I should be able to find anything that I want, I mean, I'm in America for goodness sakes!
Yes I realize this was a bit of an overreaction. And I actually ended up finding a pair of the shoes I wanted haha So I can't say I learned my lesson. But I did realize that I am a ridiculous, spoiled, selfish American. I was actually surprised and upset when I didn't get exactly what I wanted. And that's not the first time that's happened. I think I am probably one of the most easily disappointed people on the planet. My entire day can be ruined because the Blue Chip Cookie store at the mall is out of M&M sugar cookies. How ridiculous is that?
But people in Kenya simply aren't like that. Not just because they can't afford it, but because they don't expect to be comfortable or catered to at every turn. Even middle class Kenyans live in some pretty rough conditions. Their transportation options are awful, at best. No one has their own car, they ride matatus everywhere, and it's never a fun of comfortable ride. It's literally always painful at some point, whether you hit your head on the roof or your knees on the seat in front of you or someone elbows you in the head or the driver decides that roads are more of a suggestion than a necessity. You can never get on one and expect a smooth, injury free ride.
Their restaurants are sketchy to say the least. Over half the time they don't have 75% of their menu. They just don't have it. Some days they have fish, some days they have chicken, some days they have beef, but rarely do you ever get the option of all 3. Whenever you order you have to have at least a Plan B, if not a Plan C, and you can never get excited about eating anything because chances are, they won't have whatever it is you want. No restaurant in America could survivie like that. People would be outraged if they couldn't eat exactly what they ordered. The whole concept of "the customer is always right" is completely ridiculous here. You take what you can get and you're thankful for it.
The restaurants are also insanely terrifying for a germophobe (luckily I don't suffer from that condition), people get food poisoning all the time and it's just no big deal. It's part of life. I heard some Kenyans talking about a prayer they say before they eat sometimes, something about God thank you for this food, please don't let it hurt us, Amen. They said it kind of as a joke, but they were serious. You really never know when the water or the fruit or the meat is going to make you crazy sick. If anyone gets food poisoning in America the entire judicial system comes crashing down on whatever poor restaurant owner accidentally bought a bad piece of beef.
I don't really have any sort of big, serious point here, except to say that being in Kenya has made me realize how focused I am on my own comfort, my own pleasurse, my own everything. I'm not saying that it has changed drastically, I mean I'm more aware of it now, but I still catch myself focusing on what I want or what I think I need or how I feel. I guess that's not something that ever goes away, especially for an American. But I really pray that by the time I get back I'll be more comfortable with being uncomfortable.
Monday, July 12, 2010
This Is Going To Be Super Cheesy....So Be Prepared
I was thinking about all the poverty in the slums of Nairobi. I mean it's intense. I was thinking about how physically their situations are rough, they live in tiny shacks the size of my bedroom made completely of tin and dirt. Their streets are filled with sewage. But then I was thinking, what's even worse to me is how emotionally broken their lives are as well. I could understand living in terrible situations but still having a semblance of a happy life because you have a stable family who loves you and good friends and community. But these people don't even always have that. So many of the people I've met, women especially, are single parents whose husbands left them after giving them HIV or were never even married to begin with. Many of their children's fathers left after they got pregnant. Many of them have multiple children with multiple fathers, all of whom left. So many of these peoples' families are completely broken. They can't afford school so their sons drop out and sniff glue on the streets of the slums to pass the time and forget about reality. Their daughters prostitute themselves to make money for the family or get pregnant as teenagers and are forced to keep the cycle of poverty alive. Some of these people have never experienced real love. Some of them wouldn't even know what it looked like.
As I was thinking about this I was overcome with thankfulness for the life I lead. I mean, I live in amazing conditions compared to these people. Even middle class people in Kenya don't live as well as lower class people in the States. I have a house, ok well I don't have a house but my parents graciously let me live in their house :) I have a car. I had my own apartment at one point. I have a whole kitchen, multiple bathrooms and bedrooms. I live an amazing physical life.
But then I started thinking, I live in amazing conditions emotionally, too. If that makes sense. I am convinced my family and friends are some of the most amazing people in the entire world. I had a bit of a rough weekend, just some stuff with people at home and whatnot, not important enough to discuss here haha But it was enough to upset me for awhile…but then I realized that no matter what I’m going through, I am still blessed beyond belief. I have parents who love me. Not all of the kids in the slums can say that. Shoot, not all of the kids in America can say that! They take care of me and support me and care about me and what I’m doing and how I am. They miss me when I’m gone. They hurt when I hurt. They’re thoughtful and considerate and caring. They would literally do anything they could for me. They would do anything to make me happy (not in a bad way, although my Dad always did have a hard time saying no to his daughters and one time let us eat 3 gingerbread houses in one night because my Mom was out of town). And they’re legitimately great, godly people. Anyone who knows them already knows that though :)
I also have 2 of the best sisters anyone could ask for. They’re seriously amazing. They’ve both offered to let me live with them when I get back from Kenya because they know I have no money and no plans for my life :) Just like my parents, they love me and care about me and would do anything they could to help me if and when I need it. They’re fun to hang out with and they actually like me, not just because they have to since we’re related and all, but they genuinely enjoy me (as far as I know…) and I enjoy them. Like my parents, they’re great people. And anyone who’s met them knows that!
Not only do I have an amazing family, but I have some of the best friends imaginable. I literally didn’t think it was possible to have friends like that. They care about me and how I am. They want to know about my life. They listen when I ramble for hours about whatever’s bothering me that week. They’re always there when I need them, even if I’m on another continent. And they’re always willing to have my back in any situation, even if I’m not in the right. Some of them have even offered to murder people for me before :) And they love me, even though they don’t have to, when I’m a jerk or when I’m in a bad mood or when I’m being selfish and unreasonable. They have truly shown me what it means to love someone like Jesus does, with no strings attached, just because you’re you.
I have so much. I am so blessed. And being here, seeing all the brokenness and poverty in the slums, has made me realize it so much more. I have an amazing life. I have a family and friends who love me no matter what, I have a God who loves me even though I suck at life most of the time and was even willing to become a person and die in a super awful way so that I could basically hang out with him forever. He doesn’t just love me because he has to, he likes me. He likes who I am even when I don’t. How fantastic is that?
Even when bad things happen, when I’m unhappy or hurt or sad or feel betrayed or rejected or unloved I just have to take a minute and see how amazing my life really is. I have more love in my life than I know what to do with. And it’s a great feeling.
Like I said, this was super cheesy. But I warned you all beforehand so it’s not my fault :)
As I was thinking about this I was overcome with thankfulness for the life I lead. I mean, I live in amazing conditions compared to these people. Even middle class people in Kenya don't live as well as lower class people in the States. I have a house, ok well I don't have a house but my parents graciously let me live in their house :) I have a car. I had my own apartment at one point. I have a whole kitchen, multiple bathrooms and bedrooms. I live an amazing physical life.
But then I started thinking, I live in amazing conditions emotionally, too. If that makes sense. I am convinced my family and friends are some of the most amazing people in the entire world. I had a bit of a rough weekend, just some stuff with people at home and whatnot, not important enough to discuss here haha But it was enough to upset me for awhile…but then I realized that no matter what I’m going through, I am still blessed beyond belief. I have parents who love me. Not all of the kids in the slums can say that. Shoot, not all of the kids in America can say that! They take care of me and support me and care about me and what I’m doing and how I am. They miss me when I’m gone. They hurt when I hurt. They’re thoughtful and considerate and caring. They would literally do anything they could for me. They would do anything to make me happy (not in a bad way, although my Dad always did have a hard time saying no to his daughters and one time let us eat 3 gingerbread houses in one night because my Mom was out of town). And they’re legitimately great, godly people. Anyone who knows them already knows that though :)
I also have 2 of the best sisters anyone could ask for. They’re seriously amazing. They’ve both offered to let me live with them when I get back from Kenya because they know I have no money and no plans for my life :) Just like my parents, they love me and care about me and would do anything they could to help me if and when I need it. They’re fun to hang out with and they actually like me, not just because they have to since we’re related and all, but they genuinely enjoy me (as far as I know…) and I enjoy them. Like my parents, they’re great people. And anyone who’s met them knows that!
Not only do I have an amazing family, but I have some of the best friends imaginable. I literally didn’t think it was possible to have friends like that. They care about me and how I am. They want to know about my life. They listen when I ramble for hours about whatever’s bothering me that week. They’re always there when I need them, even if I’m on another continent. And they’re always willing to have my back in any situation, even if I’m not in the right. Some of them have even offered to murder people for me before :) And they love me, even though they don’t have to, when I’m a jerk or when I’m in a bad mood or when I’m being selfish and unreasonable. They have truly shown me what it means to love someone like Jesus does, with no strings attached, just because you’re you.
I have so much. I am so blessed. And being here, seeing all the brokenness and poverty in the slums, has made me realize it so much more. I have an amazing life. I have a family and friends who love me no matter what, I have a God who loves me even though I suck at life most of the time and was even willing to become a person and die in a super awful way so that I could basically hang out with him forever. He doesn’t just love me because he has to, he likes me. He likes who I am even when I don’t. How fantastic is that?
Even when bad things happen, when I’m unhappy or hurt or sad or feel betrayed or rejected or unloved I just have to take a minute and see how amazing my life really is. I have more love in my life than I know what to do with. And it’s a great feeling.
Like I said, this was super cheesy. But I warned you all beforehand so it’s not my fault :)
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
The Worst of It
I see some pretty awful things most days. Anytime you're in the slums you're bound to see something that disturbs you or hear stories that are heartbreaking. I meet people that have insanely hard lives and tell you crazy stories about their homes being burned down because of the tribe they're from or their husband dying from AIDS after he gave it to them first or their children dropping out of school because they can't afford the fees. I see mothers crying in the streets and sending their 3 year olds out to beg for money so they can buy food. I see kids covered in flies and dirt, playing in piles of trash next to a herd of goats. I see entire homes that are smaller than my bedroom. I hear stories about prostitutes and alcoholics and AIDS patients and rape victims and people who are too poor to rent a shack in the slums. But what's funny is that these aren't the people that affect me the most. Don't get me wrong, it's all heartbreaking and terrible to see, but it's not what gets to me most of the time.
There are 2 things that I see in and around the slums that kill me the most, even more than all the things I mentioned before. The first one is people with disabilities. There are SO many it's unbelievable. Most of them are leg problems, their legs are deformed or they're missing feet or limbs. And so far I haven't seen a single wheelchair...at least not the American type. They have hand bikes that look kind of like large tricycles, but they're expensive and most disabled people can't afford them. There are tons of people who have to constantly use crutches because one or both of their legs don't work. I saw one man begging on the streets who had no arms and no legs, just laying on a blanket, with tubes running in and out of his body. There was one guy on the street whose leg was bloody and broken and had metal correctors sticking out of it. I've seen a few people who can't walk, so they put flip flops on their knees and crawl around that way. The first time I saw someone with a pretty intense disability was my first week here. I was in the slums and saw an old woman crawling toward me. She had legs but they didn't work, so she had flip flops on her hands and was pulling herself around, almost army crawling down the sidewalk. It was the closest I've come to crying so far. It was just so dehumanizing, this elderly woman crawling around on the sidewalk. She couldn't afford a wheelchair so this was her only option. It was awful.
What really kills me about this is that they don't have to live this way. Many of them probably wouldn't be disabled at all if they had received proper medical attention when they were born or after whatever accident caused their problems. If they lived in America they'd be leading happy, productive lives. They'd have the help they needed and the tools and resources to get around. But they just don't have those kinds of options here. Many of them have no one, no families, to help them, especially the ones that beg on the streets. We got curious about a lot of the people who have no legs and no arms who beg in the cities, just about how they got there and who's bringing them and if they have people to care for them. We asked and were told they have "friends" who bring them into the city to beg, leave them there for the day, and then come back in the evenings and take all the money they've made, leaving the disabled person with nothing. So it's not even like we can give them money and it will help them, since the money will just end up going to the "friends." It's really hard to walk by these people on a daily basis, knowing there's nothing you can do to help them. It's not that they're just poor, a lot of them are in genuinely hopeless situations.
There was one guy that a teammate of mine met that was different, though. They met him at his home during a visit with Missions of Hope. He had been disabled since birth and had no legs. He used his hands to crawl around. Then a year or so ago he was trying to cross the street and got hit by a mutatu, one of the public transportation buses. He was in the hospital for a number of months and was disabled even more severely after that, but they said he still had an amazing hope and spirit and an intense love for Christ, despite his situation. Instead of giving up and begging in the streets, he started his own business. He crawled outside of his home in the slums every morning and made chips to sell in the streets. I never met this guy, but his story has really stuck with me. Unfortunately, not all of the people I've seen have the same hope, which is really heartbreaking.
The other thing that I have a hard time with are the street boys that wander around the slums. Most of them are teenagers, though some are as young as 10 or 11. They either dropped out of school or couldn't afford to go anymore and spend their days wandering the slums, sniffing bottles of glue. They can't afford drugs or alcohol so they get high off glue. What's crazy is that they don't try to hide it or anything, they just sit in the streets with their faces buried in bottles of glue. They stumble around with glazed eyes and tattered clothes. Sometimes they pass out on the streets and look like dead bodies just sprawled out in the dirt. What kills me about these boys is their complete lack of hope for their own lives. Most of the people I meet have really difficult lives and live in terrible conditions, but they have hope. They have a love for Christ that is contagious. They trust Him with their lives and they constantly thank Him for everything they do have. But these boys don’t have any of that. They’ve literally given up on their lives and are just trying to escape reality by getting high. It’s just heartbreaking to see. Most of these boys are so young and have so much potential to become something great, but they can’t see that. All they see ahead of them is a life in the slums and they’ve given up even trying to get out and into a better life.
Don’t get me wrong, it’s hard to see anyone suffering, no matter how happy they seem to be. But it’s so much easier to deal with when you know the people are ok spiritually and have joy and goals and hope for their future. It’s so difficult to see people who obviously have nothing but pain and desperation in their lives and know there’s nothing I can do to directly help them.
There are 2 things that I see in and around the slums that kill me the most, even more than all the things I mentioned before. The first one is people with disabilities. There are SO many it's unbelievable. Most of them are leg problems, their legs are deformed or they're missing feet or limbs. And so far I haven't seen a single wheelchair...at least not the American type. They have hand bikes that look kind of like large tricycles, but they're expensive and most disabled people can't afford them. There are tons of people who have to constantly use crutches because one or both of their legs don't work. I saw one man begging on the streets who had no arms and no legs, just laying on a blanket, with tubes running in and out of his body. There was one guy on the street whose leg was bloody and broken and had metal correctors sticking out of it. I've seen a few people who can't walk, so they put flip flops on their knees and crawl around that way. The first time I saw someone with a pretty intense disability was my first week here. I was in the slums and saw an old woman crawling toward me. She had legs but they didn't work, so she had flip flops on her hands and was pulling herself around, almost army crawling down the sidewalk. It was the closest I've come to crying so far. It was just so dehumanizing, this elderly woman crawling around on the sidewalk. She couldn't afford a wheelchair so this was her only option. It was awful.
What really kills me about this is that they don't have to live this way. Many of them probably wouldn't be disabled at all if they had received proper medical attention when they were born or after whatever accident caused their problems. If they lived in America they'd be leading happy, productive lives. They'd have the help they needed and the tools and resources to get around. But they just don't have those kinds of options here. Many of them have no one, no families, to help them, especially the ones that beg on the streets. We got curious about a lot of the people who have no legs and no arms who beg in the cities, just about how they got there and who's bringing them and if they have people to care for them. We asked and were told they have "friends" who bring them into the city to beg, leave them there for the day, and then come back in the evenings and take all the money they've made, leaving the disabled person with nothing. So it's not even like we can give them money and it will help them, since the money will just end up going to the "friends." It's really hard to walk by these people on a daily basis, knowing there's nothing you can do to help them. It's not that they're just poor, a lot of them are in genuinely hopeless situations.
There was one guy that a teammate of mine met that was different, though. They met him at his home during a visit with Missions of Hope. He had been disabled since birth and had no legs. He used his hands to crawl around. Then a year or so ago he was trying to cross the street and got hit by a mutatu, one of the public transportation buses. He was in the hospital for a number of months and was disabled even more severely after that, but they said he still had an amazing hope and spirit and an intense love for Christ, despite his situation. Instead of giving up and begging in the streets, he started his own business. He crawled outside of his home in the slums every morning and made chips to sell in the streets. I never met this guy, but his story has really stuck with me. Unfortunately, not all of the people I've seen have the same hope, which is really heartbreaking.
The other thing that I have a hard time with are the street boys that wander around the slums. Most of them are teenagers, though some are as young as 10 or 11. They either dropped out of school or couldn't afford to go anymore and spend their days wandering the slums, sniffing bottles of glue. They can't afford drugs or alcohol so they get high off glue. What's crazy is that they don't try to hide it or anything, they just sit in the streets with their faces buried in bottles of glue. They stumble around with glazed eyes and tattered clothes. Sometimes they pass out on the streets and look like dead bodies just sprawled out in the dirt. What kills me about these boys is their complete lack of hope for their own lives. Most of the people I meet have really difficult lives and live in terrible conditions, but they have hope. They have a love for Christ that is contagious. They trust Him with their lives and they constantly thank Him for everything they do have. But these boys don’t have any of that. They’ve literally given up on their lives and are just trying to escape reality by getting high. It’s just heartbreaking to see. Most of these boys are so young and have so much potential to become something great, but they can’t see that. All they see ahead of them is a life in the slums and they’ve given up even trying to get out and into a better life.
Don’t get me wrong, it’s hard to see anyone suffering, no matter how happy they seem to be. But it’s so much easier to deal with when you know the people are ok spiritually and have joy and goals and hope for their future. It’s so difficult to see people who obviously have nothing but pain and desperation in their lives and know there’s nothing I can do to directly help them.
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