I Live in Luxury

We finally have running water again. I can wash the dishes, bathe myself and my kids, flush the toilet every time, and prepare supper. The fruit flies were starting to invade our kitchen with all the food remnants stuck to dirty dishes. Last night I guiltily bathed the kids with drinking water (purified water we must buy here) because today was Will’s first day of preschool and I was embarrassed to send him with all the dirt stuck under his fingernails, and legs stained brown from playing outside.

I went down to the river once to fill two buckets of water. My wimpy arms ached. The water was enough to flush the toilet and rinse some dishes.

When I was down there, I stood in line with those who don’t have running water in their homes. At the river there are just two taps with mostly clean running water. I observed my neighbours waiting patiently with their buckets and soap and toothbrushes, as they do each day. Some of the kids and teenagers poo’d in the river. I could tell at least one of them was embarrassed I was there.

When I was young, I remember hearing stories about poor people in Africa having to walk for hours to collect water from a river. I’d think, that’s too bad, but that’s what they do.

Absolute. Ignorance.

Three days without water and I was done. Two buckets of water and a short walk and I was tired. Are they made of something different than me? They definitely have greater resilience and patience and physical strength.

But I live in luxury: I have running water in my home. Although I live in a very poor neighbourhood, I have not actually entered into the hardships of the poor. With my college degree, loving husband, access to good medical care, and all the benefits that come with being a white Canadian, I do not know or understand the hardships of the poor. If anything, having a home in the middle of the slum has highlighted how much I have, of which I am very grateful.

The kids that have to poo in the river and then line up at 5:30am to bathe and brush their teeth, before putting on their uniforms and heading to a school that starts at 6:30am, they are bullied. From talking with my neighbours, it seems that being bullied is the number one reason most kids have dropped out of school by grade 7. They are the ‘beggar kids’ who live in the poor neighbourhood. To me, they are resilient. Even heroes.

Is there not more I can do to help my neighbours with the lack of plumbing and easy access to running water? My western, fix-it mentality often needs to be reminded that immediate solutions are often not the right answer. First, I need to know my place in the community: to listen, observe and learn, trusting the leaders and systems in place. My neighbours have been living like this for decades and are not looking for quick solutions, but good ones.

Ultimately, we are learning to listen to God, take our orders from Him, and abide in Jesus each day. He will do the fixing, whatever that looks like.

About Me

I live in a very poor neighbourhood in Southeast Asia. Some would call it a slum due to the lack of plumbing, and the excessive amount of garbage that lays in piles, usually smouldering. It is also considered the poorest, least desirable neighbourhood in our city, according to local government officials. I live here with my husband, baby and three-year-old son. I am a Canadian.

In this blog, I hope to share some thoughts and experiences of living in this poor neighbourhood. Not because living in a poor neighbourhood is in itself unique: two billion humans currently live in very poor neighbourhoods, and mine may be in the top tier of these two billion (1). But as a Canadian mother of means, I feel my experiences might help provide a window into the world of the poor, especially for those who are not able to interact with the world’s poor on a daily basis, as we have the privilege to do. The window’s glass will be hazy, sometimes the reflections seen disputable, and nothing said will be profound. As King Solomon said, “There is nothing new under the sun.”

This is why the title of my blog is ‘days like grass’. The poet David wrote:

As for man, his days are like grass;

he flourishes like a flower of the field

for the wind passes over it,

and it is gone,

and its place knows it no more.

Despite my fleeting life, I still have value. David continues:

But the steadfast love of the Lord

is from everlasting to everlasting

on those who fear him.

So as a blade of grass, held by my Father, guided by Jesus' Spirit, I try (and often fail), to love my neighbour. Then I might write about it here sometimes.  

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(1) The bottom two billion live on USD 2.50 or less per day (http://blogs.worldbank.org/youthink/bottom-pyramid-bop-solutions-bottom-two-billion)