A Mother's Burden

No matter how much poverty you see, I think there will always be times when it just eats your heart. Sometimes mass destitution makes it easier for the passerby to view with indifference- it's large and can stay impersonal in many ways. Everyone blends together- you might even be able to justify your own privilege by saying, "At least there are a lot of them, they must be ok in such a big group." That's what I have done in many ways- you have to figure a way to deal with it here or your stomach will wind itself into a thousand knots and threaten to never come undone.
But when you see the personal side of poverty- a child covered in dirt, half-clothed, coughing- an old man, club footed, pulling himself on the ground with his hands- a woman the age of your own grandmother scavenging in the garbage heap and doing laundry in the most polluted river you can imagine- it's a pill that's very hard to swallow.
At the bus stop tonight on the way home from class, I watched two elderly women, carrying sleeping children and followed by 2 more, not older than 6, walk under the bus shelter, behind the metal bench, and start clearing away the refuse for a place to sleep. No men. No food. Just blankets and children, who carry the family's meager belongings. It's not even possible for me to imagine a childhood spent on the streets. And perhaps even worse, I would never want that experience. I don't want that child to have that experience.
But what do you do? Do you give them money? Will that help? When the homeless beg, do you give? What do you give? Are they asking you because you are white? There are SO MANY... do you give to everyone? I've learned that I like to share what they lack when I can- food, a blanket... money is hard for me to give. I struggle with this. I've had to say no many times, and it's never easy.