These people

Hello there! Long time no see/ chat!

I figured it was time to retake the reins of this blog after mom started greatly exaggerating the virtue of my character (which I still think was largely due to the fact that I had just fixed an issue with her iPad).

Seriously, though, if anyone deserves to be hailed for bravery, sheer determination and thoughtfulness, it's Mom. This week had dragged us kicking and screaming out of our comfort zone and every morning we roll out if bed (me from the top bunk, mom from the bottom), say a prayer and encourage each other to start over.

Week 3 has thus far carried the distinction of being the most challenging both mentally and physically. I think for the first two weeks, we were witnessing institutional poverty-- classrooms with too many desks and not enough supplies, under stocked hospitals with bad lighting and 4 beds/ room, a hospice with a mason jar rigged suction tube and concrete floors. This week we have been working 1:1 with the social workers and subsequently are being invited into people's homes in a much more intimate way. Mom covered most of the descriptives of our home visits-- the dirt floors, plywood walls, little/ no plumbing, 3-4 kids to a mosquito net covered bed, flies, fleas, spoiled food and in at least one instance, an unplucked and decapitated chicken swarming with bugs on a countertop--but it is important to reiterate the level of poverty in this community. It is a gut wrenching and at the end of the day (and some mornings, and afternoons) tearjerking way of life, about which we know so little.

I think we've been socialized to cringe when somebody refers to a class of people as "those people" or "these people." How do "these people" live like this? "These people" will never know life any differently. "These people" are poor, degraded and will never know the luxuries the world has to offer. But I don't know that this is a wrong distinction to make. I will never be "these people." I can bear witness to the lives of "these people." I can be present and catch glimpses of myself in the lives and personalities of "these people," but I will never truly know what it means to be part of this community. To believe otherwise would be an insult to both parties. Because I will also never fully understand the resilience of "these people." I will never truly appreciate the overwhelming sense of community, devotion and yes, love, that rises out of such desperate circumstances. I will never not know that after 7 weeks, I can return to the safety and comfort of my home.

I believe forcefully in the power of community and solidarity but also understand the importance of recognizing that the work we do doesn't stop once we go home. The church is set up with a grassroots infrastructure in a way that promotes sustainability by its Peruvian employees. Maybe the manpower increases during the summer months, but we are mere cogs in the machine that is the outreach of this parish. Each month, 2000! families receive food packages. Bread and bananas are available each day in the capillas. Clothes are distributed in each village (some as far away as 45 minutes) every month. The work is continuous and important. Earlier this week when we were reevaluating our remaining time, I had to stop and remind myself that the poverty isn't going to go away simply because I leave it. It is a humbling and quite frankly depressing concept,.

At a later time we will update you on our weekend adventure, struggled home building, horrific sunburns and other goings-on at the parish, but for now I'm just grateful for the outlet to share my ramblings.

With love,
Kate