Today we went to the city trash dump to talk to people and serve them spaghetti. We knew it would smell bad and would be difficult, but you can only prepare yourself so much for that type of thing. Within the first 2 minutes after getting off the bus I had already gagged 5 times. I have been sick for the last few days so that may have made it even worse – but that’s not the point. For the first time I was legitimately unsure if I would be able to be there an hour without vomiting. I gagged a couple more times and tried to push through it. Vomiting there in the “home” of these people would have been so rude. This may be my miserable one hour, but it is their daily reality.
I want to give the “right” response and say that I had a positive attitude and really wanted to help people at the expense of my nose and stomach; but this time I did not exactly feel that way. All I could think about was how bad it smelled and how to breathe through my mouth. Not only that, but I didn’t know what to do or who to talk to and what about – I know very little Spanish. My teammate, Liz, really wanted to speak to people so she took the initiative and started talking to a little girl. She called Jah-Jah over to interpret and I decided to go as well. The girl’s name was Milexi and she was about 7 years old. Liz and Jah-Jah talked to her about her family and school. I knew I had to be a part of this conversation. I could not stand on the sideline and do nothing. Slowly I started asking questions and getting Jah-Jah to interpret things for me. I became part of the dialogue in a way.
Milexi loved Liz. She hugged her and Milexi did not let go for the rest of the time we were there. She was so happy and had the biggest smile on her face. That was what made it worth it for me. What is it about a hug from Liz – a stranger – that brought her joy? How is that possible? What did it mean to Milexi? And the million-dollar question – did it make a lasting difference? [I would venture to say so.]
