The realities of poverty and life here have been on my mind heavily these last few weeks. I would have thought that 13 months of living in Puerto Supe would perhaps desensitive me, and in some ways they have. Nonetheless, I have daily moments of surprise, sadness, and just not understanding why things have to be the way they are.
Why do some of my friends live in houses with dirt floors or straw roofs or no electricity? Why don't they have things like sinks or showers or even toilets? People are sick and die because the medical care is inadequate. Money and health are the central preoccupations of their lives. They don't have much of either. 
A lot of this I don't know about until I'm sitting in a drafty one-room house and a story comes up about what happened earlier this week when my friend's family didn't have money to buy food for two days. No one says a word, but when the daughter has to pee, she goes behind the dresser. Is there a bucket or an open sewer line? I can't tell and don't ask. Either way, I'm disheartened. 
I take the dogs on a walk and from the top of a hill, look over the town. Everywhere I look it's brown. I can't imagine what it would feel like to be stuck in this life, your best hope being that someday, someone in your family will get a break and make their way into a "profession." I didn't know until I came here that in some places, "dreams" are largely irrelevant. Why set yourself up for the fall?
The more real and normal this world becomes, the more confused I find myself.
The more real and normal this world becomes, the more confused I find myself.
