Before the trip I tried to think of very little outside of the logistics I needed to take care of. I didn’t want my imagination running wild with expectations. When I heard about the trip, I instantly applied for it and from that moment I knew I was supposed to be here and I’ve been allowing things to unfold as they are. I didn’t feel I needed to prep myself for poverty as I have been in the countryside of Mexico and rural Kenya and I suspected at some point on the trip I may be impacted by it. Today was the day.
During a home visit this morning, I was so present that for a moment or two I was in their shoes. I listened with appreciation for who they are and not their circumstances. I saw how challenging just living and raising their families appears to be. I saw the details of the moment from the muddy floors of their home and walls made of tin and scrap wood, to the kindness and appreciation they have for the organization I’m here with that is helping their families educate their children and keeping them in school. I also so the big picture of commercialized farming out their backyard of hundreds of acres of peanuts that the locals have very little part of. The processed crap food and sweets that has infiltrated from big companies in the US because it is cheaper than real food…paralleling our food industry in the US where a McDonalds burger is cheaper than a salad. I felt the systematic and repetitive machine that worldwide helps keep the poor poor. I was sad, I was angry, I was in turmoil.
I also understood that the level of poverty that exists here and in other 3rd world countries is so much greater than it is in the US. I’m not saying that a hungry child here is more hungry than a hungry child in the US…hunger is hunger, but their is no safety net here. Handouts are not the answer, but I understand that assistance goes along way. I realized that so many Americans complain about having to support Medicare and Welfare (these systems are far from perfect) and it clicked that this is what has enabled us to not become 3rd world. Our poor can apply for assistance to help them get over a hump or through hard times, without this our poor would be living in shacks and shanty towns. Almost 70-80% of Nicaraguans live like this… it is astounding.
I was overwhelmed on the ride back in from the countryside. I was torn and confused. What is the answer to this stuff? Even so many NGOs (Non-profit Organizations) start out with good intentions and become another dependent making machine that loses sight of what true helping is.
After lunch my energy was all pent up. At what level can I be of assistance? Do I fight the big guns in Washington or have a conversation with a child to let them know they are worthy and that they can make their dreams reality? Where should my dollars go? How can I be sure I’m really helping and not creating dependence?
We had a break for a few hours this afternoon and I knew I wasn’t in a place of acceptance. I was in turmoil. I didn’t want to talk with anyone. I had all these minute details and big picture systems running through my head. I went through a list in my head of what I could do to become more balanced so I could think more clearly. I realized exercise is what I needed. It was 2 in the afternoon and it was HOT out, but I put on my Treksta light hikers and realized they would have to do for a run.
So I ran, and ran, and ran. I pounded the tiled sidewalks and jumped between cracks in the streets. Breathing in the humid hot air I got reminder of what it felt like when I used to play Ultimate frisbee in the Florida heat. I was a crazy gringo running through the streets of Granada in the mid-day heat. My mind started to quiet as I had to focus on staying upright. I was letting the tension go. I ran to Lake Nicaragua and the breeze off the water further helped my release. I started crying. I cried for humanity. I cried for all the hungry bodies including those of the animals. I thanked life for everything that I have. I slowed down and begin to walk. I was exhausted. I wanted to be. I wanted to feel and experience all that I was in that moment. I was finding acceptance of what is and understanding that I am seeing their poverty through my own filter not through theirs. Clarity was emerging.
I got back, showered, and started writing. I didn’t want to forget any of it. I felt much calmer and from this space know I make better decisions. I am able to ‘hear’ what is best. Remember who I am and the power that I have…that we all have. I know that at least for this trip, I want these kids to know that they can have a different life if they want. That if they believe in their dreams and work towards them, they can have them. That they are worthy and that they matter. To love themselves despite the shame and struggles that comes with poverty. Yes, this is what I can give them. Along with hugs and smiles and a few photography tips, I can help empower them. This is why I am here. I am blessed.
