The ride is nothing short of hot and spastic as we stop for inconspicuous speed bumps, cattle, locals, and gaping potholes. We drive through the township everyday on our way to and from the school where we are teaching. A township is the epitome of a slum for a city, and every city here has it’s own. Ours is named Walmer.
Today is different though. We are not exploiting Americans (which is another story in itself about some things we have seen), or oblivious targets. We pass by children on their way home from school while we carry food for the “creche”, or preschools in Walmer. We don’t spend much time in the debris infested alleys; we are very cautious as it is the most dangerous place to be. Especially for white people; and every person in the truck with me is pasty white or glowing red from their recent sunburn.
I yank the car door open and step out into what feels like a country with a reduced ozone layer. We walk around back of the truck and start counting which food goes to this creche as children walk past us on their way home from school. Their uniforms as clean as they were this morning, probably abiding by their Mother’s or Grandmother’s requests.
I feel my bare skin turning a golden brown as I stand and wait to grab the bags of bulk food. I can smell the burning trash near by and when the children return home, the streets are quiet. Most of the dogs don’t even bark at us; just like their owners, they watch. Some come outside to see what we are doing with food in a community where there is none. Others silently watch from inside their house too knowledgable to come outside.
Each stop brings a woman who approaches us and lets us in. I introduce myself, though I’m here for a mere moment. The staff do this as life throughout the year. Still, I engage the women, smile, and try to remember their names in case I see them again. I hope I see them again.
Glass and feces litter the dirt roads, shoes are swung over the clothes lines, old toys and wrappers slightly exposed under the dirt. I see the barefoot children running up and down the paths. With each passing local, I smile, wave, and say hello. I know I shouldn’t feel safe, but I do. I shouldn’t feel like I could walk up to anyone and talk to them, but I do.
Our first entry into the township and we were swarmed with the reality. Rape of children is the norm. Abuse, neglect, starvation. Most homes are pallets, rusted metal, or plastic layered and put together like a paper mache. Some homes maybe piling up to three feet tall, meaning every interaction in the home is most likely sitting or in a crouched position moving around the 8 square feet with several children. Most businesses are in containers that ships, trains, or semi trucks would carry.
Animals, children, and garbage cover everything. And yet, I feel safe. I feel welcomed. It maybe costs $10 for a contract to be put out on someone in the township. Why would I feel safe, or better yet, welcomed?
Have you ever been to a place with extreme poverty? And I mean extreme. Living off of maybe one dollar a day, sending their children to the dump to find food, or the streets emptying after dark in the unfortunate reality you would probably be killed? Through the chaos, there is beauty.
Do you remember Veruca Salt from Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory? (The one with Gene Wilder…don’t bring up the monstrosity of Johnny Depp’s recreation). When Veruca had everything she could want, including the Golden Ticket, she continued to want more. There is a scene where Willy Wonka hands out the Everlasting Gobbstopper. And she asks for two. He doesn’t understand because it is ‘everlasting’, why on earth would she need two?
The children here, and honestly, in every community I have been to with extreme poverty, they are different. They get one more piece of bread, and they are running to their friends making sure everyone gets a piece. The Brotherhood has been explained to me about this community. If employees are stealing, the boss must not tell, but hide it. It is the most powerful thing in the township.
Every time I have entered into poverty like this, I have seen the sincere joy. I have experienced outrageous generosity by those living in this! And every time we go into the township, I smile and wave and say hello as my team and I hold on to one another hoping to not fall out of the tailgate. And you have never seen pure, unaltered smiles like the ones that receive mine and are sent back.
It is a breath of fresh air. It is not something I easily find back home. These faces that catch mine as I drive by, they are engaged. If only for a moment. They see me, and I them. They don’t turn away quickly or look at their phones (not that many have one) and miss me completely. The life that comes from their eyes to mine is a forest when I’m usually hoping for a sprout.
We have not taken a lot of pictures in Walmer out of safety and respect, but here are a couple photos of homes in the township.
I am currently 73% funded! Praise Jesus for the incredible blessings He has given me. I am so thankful for the support and encouragement.
I am still in need of $4,452 to be fully funded. My next deadline is approaching fast, and I would love if you considered partnering with me!
With much love and appreciation,
Leticia
