Everyone seems to have a definite image of what living in
poverty looks like. Maybe it includes those pictures that look like the ones
you see in National Geographic where a child is naked or crying or something.
Or, maybe you automatically think of a shack with trash in front of it. Or maybe you picture two little girls standing in front of an empty house, unable to move out of fear like these little girls…
Either
way, the word “poverty” is almost always associated with an outward expression
of a lack of money within a family or community. This is also how I viewed the
word until I began to notice drastic differences between the gypsy villages
that lead me to believe that “poverty” also has to do with how you feel on the
inside. As I observed each village more closely, I began to think that poverty
is more than simply being poor; it’s a lifestyle, a being, that comes from the
inside out.
By this point in the month, I would say that we have about
three main gypsy villages we visit throughout each week.
One village embodies exactly what a stereotypical “poor”
village looks like. All the children (well all the people in general) are rail
thin. Most of the babies do not have socks on their feet so their feet are
bluish purple. No one owns a pair of clothes that fit or are clean. And, all
the houses look like they were slapped together and could fall apart if you
even breathed on it too hard.
The second village is a little nicer than the other two in
the sense that there are those same kinds of dilapidated houses but there are
also nicer houses interspersed with them. The kids always have socks on and
sometimes do not wear hats, not because they don’t have them but because the
inside of their house is warm enough so they don’t have to. I’ve noticed more
pots in the houses too so I assume they eat a little more than the other
villages. But, this is not to say they do not live in poverty.
The last village is the hardest for me to walk into. It may
be a little worse off than the first village I mentioned but it resembles the
first village in every way. Children do not have socks or shoes. All the people
are so thin. They have a few pots and spoons for the whole village that they
share because they probably do not eat that much food. Their houses also look
like they are already falling apart and most times, the insides look worse than
the outsides. (The picture below is actually a crib)
All three of these villages experience extreme poverty. But,
I would say that the last village experiences a different kind of inner
poverty. There is an eerie silence that keeps the children from singing or
dancing with us. The children do not want to leave their mother’s side for even
a second. No one smiles. And, everyone is just silent and still. It’s
heartbreaking. Not only does this village suffer from economical poverty, it
suffers from spiritual and emotional poverty. It’s like all the joy and love
has been sucked out of the community.
Actually, until Thanksgiving day, it was really hard for me
to even enter this village because of the spiritual darkness I felt that was
not as heavy in the other villages. But that day is saved for another blog.
