Note to self
I’ve felt it. Harsh reality is no longer something I’ve heard, it’s something I’ve seen, something I’ve felt, something I’ve experienced first hand. I’m back home from one of the most touching heart breaking experiences ever. We’ve visited a poor town, if you can even call it that. This place has taught me so much in the short span of four days. And I still wonder who was the poor one me or them. Even though they had nothing, no clean water to drink or a nice comfy bed to sleep in, they were happy, thankful, they enjoyed life. Men and women around their 70s carrying heavy crops on their backs and walking miles and miles from home to work and back home again. Teaching children how to pray, gifting a wheelchair to a girl who was not able to walk and couldn’t move around because she didn’t have a way to, painting and remaking a playground for kindergarten kids, reorganizing a church, cleaning houses, bathrooms, cooking, lacking electricity: a TV, a computer, Internet, phone reception, water that comes out of sinks, going to an asylum and listen to the stories these people had to tell how they had been abandoned there how they were lonely. Rediscovering and learning more of people I’ve had next to me my whole life. It all popped my bubble. It’s the reality lots of people live here while I’m having the time of my life. And now I want to do something. Starting small. And I’m sharing this because I don’t want to forget how much this has marked me and maybe it can mark someone else too.
