I took my seat on the 24-passenger van next to my teammate Amanda. The van quickly filled as the bus strike had made public transit a bit scarce. Out the window a little boy scurried towards us with his moms hand upon his back helping him continue on a direct path out of the rain and onto the bus. Eyes of fellow passengers quickly averted out their perspective windows as the little boy, his brother, mom and grandma boarded the bus. As the family passed the already seated passengers the faces within the seats would return the smug expressions toward the family. One row up and adjacent to us a lady kept her attention out the window as she placed her purse in the middle of the open seat beside her.
The mother placed her two sons in the seats opposite Amanda and I. The youngest boy – about three – propped himself in his seat alongside his brother – about 6. The mom helped place their luggage – a 25-gallon plastic bag – into the back of the bus. The mother wore her long brown hair pulled back into a loosely clipped bun, and her black velvet pants a bit too short for her long thin legs. She scooted her eldest son towards the window and sat beside him with her younger boy sitting beside her on the side closest to me. The grandma, dressed head to toe in black – including her long umbrella – sat beside the youngest boy with her left foot in the isle to balance herself from falling out of the seat. About five seats remained opened as we began our journey.
I used a teammates translator app to express to the grandma that the seat in front of them remained open. She smiled and waved her hand from one side to the next to signal that she was ok. The other seats slowly filled up – the last to fill were directly in front of and behind the family. Within twenty minutes of us leaving Tiranne the little boy looked up to his mom and said “Baba” (dad). His mom looked at him and his brother. Tears began to roll down her face as she spoke words of comfort to them. Throughout the journey the bus would stop and pick up passengers alongside the road. Yet, each one was quite the same. They would board and within an instant their judgmental gazes would be cast in one direction.
Always the same direction.
The scenario repeated itself for the next two hours. The family sought out ways of distracting the children from the continuous addition of passengers and glances in their direction. I joined the mother and grandma in entertaining the two boys, and quickly made some new friends through funny faces and confused looks out the window as we passed sheep farmers, mountain villages, and the battle scenes of knights and dragons only a child could see. As the younger boy became fussy the older boy and I made a game out of goofy faces. At the end of their meal of white bread, I passed a few pieces of chocolate to the grandma to give to the children. She laughed as she passed a piece to each of the boys. They seemed to enjoy it as the youngest boys hands were covered in chocolate, and the older boys face held a few pieces to be saved for later.
In a short time the youngest was sitting closest to me and with his hands outstretched, mud mixed with dry chocolate upon them, we made a game of high fives and laughter.
Our journey was nearing its end as we reached outskirts of Vlore. Outside an unfinished old stone brick building and a yard filled with wire frames of future terraces the bus came to a halt. My new friends said their goodbyes with big smiles upon their faces as they began a new journey. The boys left a breadcrumb trail of their journey as the victory laugh to our game. The girl that resided in the seat behind the family covered her nose as expressed disgust made its way across her face. The woman with the purse and the rest of the locals gave a sigh of relief.
Prejudice: a preconceived opinion that is not based on reason or actual experience. A prejudice created solely from the color of skin and place of birth. A marginalization forced through ignorance.
‘This is real’ I had to tell myself as our bus departed leaving the family at the footsteps of their new reality.
Only the love of Christ loves without boundaries. Only the love of Christ sees behind the marginalized label of the Roma, the gypsies, and sees a little ambitious and joyful Tommy with hands covered in mud and chocolate.
REFLECTION:
Who are you judging through the lens of society rather than the eyes of God? Foreigners, the homeless, gang members, prostitutes, ect.?
Challenge yourself today. Ask God for you to see each of his children through his eyes. You might make a new friend.
PRAYER:
For the Church to continue to show up as the heart of Christ for the Roma, and that this heart would overflow beyond the Roma community.
