And yet these flawed hotel rooms are so very far above the living conditions of so many people the world over.
I haven't made many pictures of the very small concrete block homes that some live in, here in Guatemala, and in Mexico. By small, I mean smaller than a 1 car garage. I really don't suppose those homes have indoor toilet facilities. Sure there are wealthy people here, with larger nicer homes than mine, but so many do not live that way.
While we were waiting in the parking lot at the Guatemala border, I saw a very small Guatemalan man (they're all small here). He looked to be in his 60's, but that may have been just the difficulty of his years showing on his face. Deep wrinkles; worn, hard skin. A body that would have preferred easier work at this stage of life. I may have previously mentioned the tropical heat at the border area...we were VERY uncomfortably hot, sweating heavily, just standing around. He, on the other hand, was pulling a hand truck, loaded with three untypically large sewing machines, through large gravel. They may have been his, or they may have belonged to somebody else, and this is his job, to tote things around in the customs area. The hand truck was leaning against his back, he leaning hard forward to bear the weight, with his hands gripping the sides behind him. The parking lot through which he pulled the hand truck was gravel, and the weight of his load dug into the gravel, making it harder to pull. At one point, the right-side wheel got jammed, refusing to rotate, and then dug harder into the gravel. This is a day in his life.
This morning we were invited to eat breakfast in the home of Gilmar and Maria, and their three children, one of the families in the church here. Their house, and those nearby, are situated among small fields of maize and other crops. Very nice family, with very well behaved children -- much better than most in the States I might add. And I very much enjoyed being in their home.
But consider: Most of the walls were mud brick with some straw mixed in, another wall was actually concrete block (houses of some of the other brethren are all concrete block, some plastered inside). Gilmar and Maria had painted the inner sides of the mud brick walls white. Concrete floor, painted if I remember correctly. The door was a few rough pieces of wood (more or less similar size as 2x4's) to form a frame, and a sheet of corrugated metal nailed to it. Three rooms. That door led into the first room, the kitchen, maybe 8' by 12'. At one end was a large concrete block stove, built in place, with a thick metal surface across the top. At one end was an opening, through which the burning wood could be seen. Maria was cheerfully making tortillas and placing them on the cooking surface as we came in. She taught Amy how to do it also. On to the second room: it was divided in the middle by a tall, wooden wardrobe, the kind that sells for big money in our antique stores, when they're in good condition (this one wouldn't make the cut); and by another similarly sized piece of furniture next to it. On the near side of this divider a simple table was set, with plastic chairs around it, the kind we might use outdoors. The children sat at a low table next to this one, and our hostess brought in concrete blocks for them to sit on (an accomodation that wasn't normal procedure), covering each block with a towel first. Behind the furniture, the other half of the room held a couple of beds, one much larger, one smaller. I never saw more than a glimpse into the third room. Outside was a small shack which I suppose was the outhouse. For laundry, Maria and the daughter use a washboard.
The roof was a single layer of corrugated metal, gabled, but the walls didn't make exact seals with the roof. Gaps remained in places, but the high-altitude climate here is somewhat constant year 'round, 70's or up to 80 in the day, though into the 40's and 30's at night. In one place in each room, a section of the corrugated metal ceiling/roof had been cut out and replaced with translucent corrugated plastic, to allow light in during the day. There were a few bare light bulbs to light the home at night. I noticed a few small holes in the metal roof, through which rainwater would easily drip.
They provided us with a fine breakfast of scrambled eggs and black beans, with fresh tortillas, and a very weak coffee (looked more like tea, perfect for me as I normally detest coffee), somewhat sweetened. We very much enjoyed it all, and had very enjoyable conversation.
Gilmar, the 30ish husband and father, walked us afterward to a similar, but considerably smaller structure, which used to be their home, and where he now has his loom with which he makes the fabric for the traditional dresses of the women here. Amazing process with all the multicolored threads.
Gilmar, and some of the girls with skirts of the same kind of fabric which he weaves:
He's an intelligent guy, and said he could have done office work, but chose weaving because it allows him more time with his family, and more time to be able to go and help other churches. Mind you, he's not “the preacher” here; they don't have a “the preacher.” He's just a Christian that's spiritually minded rather than earthly minded. After breakfast and showing us around, he went with us to town. When I stopped in a little store to buy a refrigerator magnet for someone back home who requested such, Gilmar also made a purchase: three postcards of nice scenes in Guatemala. As we left the store, he gave them to me as a gift.
When "we" hear of such living conditions as this family has, our immediate reaction is that we have to help them live better. We should send them things. They should have a higher standard of living, because no one should live like that.
You know what? They're living just fine. They're happy people. He provides a living, they're raising good children, he taught a lesson in the Sunday class period. Don't we say that such things are the things that matter?
I'll recommend a reaction. Don't sacrifice time with your children to make more money for more things (with the excuse, “it's for the children”). Don't sacrifice time for study, meditation, teaching your neighbor, and meeting regularly with the saints, to work for more money and things. Don't be bothered, if you don't have the things "we" think everybody ought to have. Be willing to take a lesser job, if its hours or location allow you to be a better, more fruitful servant of Christ. Don't make all your decisions with a standard of living in view. And if you're able to help the cause of Christ in other lands, then be willing to give up what really are our luxuries of royalty, to serve the One who truly is royal.
It's not these people here who need changes in their lives. It's us.
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(If for some reason you would like to see the comments left on the page where this was originally published, that page is viewable here:
http://pleonast.com/users/dbsmelser/entries/300342-some-observations?page=2
2 comments:
Excellent thoughts
Beautiful points.
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