Poverty On The Streets

Dealing with these sights of extreme poverty has been difficult, no question. The way I have come to deal with seeing this every day is as follows.

I remind myself of my luck. I tell myself that, although I would give anything to help each and every one of these children, I cannot. That’s a hard thing to digest. But then, I look back to all of the opportunities I do have. I tell myself that I am going to get a good education, and I’m going to do it for these children who will never step foot in a school. It’s a difficult idea to swallow, but one that is necessary - especially when you see the same families sleeping on the streets every morning while driving to school.

In a sense, I almost feel as though being constantly surrounded by so much poverty has caused me to be a bit more desensitized to it, but then again it’s somewhat necessary. If we all were to tear up a bit every time we saw impoverished children, we would be balling our eyes out constantly, all day every day.

I see the same thing. When we are waiting at the light, the children that come up to your car, their small fingers making prints on the glass, or even your shirt if you have left your window rolled down. Their hair is dirty and messy, their faces covered with dust. The clothes they wear are tattered and too small with stains all down the front. The very young and skinny girl, holding her butt naked baby brother swaddled in a scarf. And then their mothers, usually a ways back on the sidewalks. I always glance at them as they watch their children walk through the streets, peeking their head into each and every rickshaw and knocking on every car window. The universal signal for food; they put their hands to their mouth, as if they were eating, asking for food. Again, a wordless form of communication, yet one we as humans know and understand all too well.