Time is certainly not standing still, but I watch as a layer of dust and sand collects on my screen only 20 minutes after sitting down in the kitchen.
Sweat drips from my brow in the mucky overcast heat, and it’s hard to imagine that this is only their winter with this sun that burns my skin, the air that doesn't seem to move.
Out the window my eyes fixate on homes made of mud bricks- no different than the ones I made as a child from dirt and water. Their mortar thickened by surrounding brick melting away in the rain, and hardened again by sun.
The Biblical suggestion of building your home on rock let alone soil, could never even be considered when you live on top of a trash dump, with only a few inches of sand separating you and a layer upon layer of years of waste.
The neighborhood next to us houses an illegal butchery, and the air is tarnished with smells of rotting meat, and burning animal fur. The smell brings me back to the walk into town the other day, where our path was blocked by their unwanted throwaways- animal intestines.
I fight the urge to scratch the sand fly bites that are covering my legs, as I continue to monitor my stomach for the next rumbling that will send me dashing off to the restroom.
It’s hard to imagine that for millions, this is life. There is no escape after a month of pushing through.
The daycare where I have served feeds children on the monthly donations IncaLink receives from their sponsor a child program, and yet the kids need so much more than a plate full of rice. They need love, discipline, structure.
At the after school program we ran, the children approach us with arms wide open, smiles as wide as their faces will fit. It’s in them that I see Christ. So eager to give love. So eager to receive love. My eyes tear as I learn of their all too common fate- gangs will hire these children of 10-15 years old. The justice system is easy on children, so they are used for all things evil. The boys trained to be drug dealers, alcoholics, and killers. Paid 100 sol, or $40 to take the life of another human being. The girls paid to please the boys in ways no child should know.
$40
Thinking that this month was to be spent in tents, we have been spoiled. Our ministry placed us in the orphanage they are building, and we each have our own mattress on a bunk bed. 1 flushable toilet and shower for 30 girls. Spoiled. I can't help but be happy for the family-less children who will be blessed in these walls.
It rains here only a few days a year, and we just happened to be there for the first rain since the roof was put on the building. Construction here is a bit different than in the US. The walls are a third inch thick, no framing, the wires for lights and electricity exposed. You can see day light between the floor and the walls. The roof wasn't tilted the way it needed to be for rain to fall off, and as pools collected, they would give, and water gush in where two pieces of roof met. My room was the worst hit. A pool lay under my bed for several days after hours of sweeping water away. My things stayed safe, but beds were drenched, Bibles destroyed. I'm thankful it didn't happen to the children. Thankful it didn't happen to us at 2am.
This week we are doing construction to help them level land for play grounds, or more buildings. Ministry changes each week, and I hope to get to the sand boarding ministry, a sport that is typically reserved for the "rich kids" but is being brought to the poor. Also the garbage ministry- for the families who live at the dumps, searching through trash heaps for their livelihoods.
In Peru, this is life.
But there is Hope.
