Current Events and Updates of the Ministry

What does poverty look like? I suppose that poverty has many faces, and perhaps different levels. Few of us, I suspect, would call themselves rich, but maybe we would not consider ourselves to live in poverty either. Who sets the parameters on the upper and lower ends? The government of countries set poverty levels based on family income, and can then state statistically who is, and who is not living in the state of poverty. But really what does any of that mean in real life?

I will tell you what I think poverty means by telling you a story of friends of mine. However, in doing so, I also realize that even in the telling, there are different levels, and probably different self perceptions. For example, Dan and Regina Bumstead, friends of mine, are working in Africa. They are serving among the AIDS orphans and the poor in Zambia. Many there are dying for lack of proper nutrition, or due to diseases, many times easily prevented. That is a tragedy, and a travesty of justice.

Perhaps it could be argued that poverty there is more tragic than poverty in Mexico because there is even less recourse for help there than in a developing nation such as Mexico – I don’t know.  What I do know however, is that poverty, grinding poverty, has the same face wherever one encounters it. I have traveled to many countries, and seen many of the world’s poor in my travels. Disease, malnutrition, gauntness, and hopelessness all carry the same identifiable features…

But, maybe that is exactly it – “hopelessness”. Hopelessness, to a large extent is an attitude of one’s mind. One can be very poor, but not feel impoverished. Indeed, one can feel joyful and blessed despite their lack of money and resources. Some, on the other hand, feel “poor” when others would consider them to be very privileged and rich indeed.

My story is about friends of ours living in a little village just to the north of Cd. Valles. By all standards they are very poor – if this is measured by being short in wealth and resources.  However, if riches are measured by joy, generocity and love, then they are very rich indeed.

Marina is the mother in my story (actually the grandmother  – however, since she raised the “daughter” since she was a baby, she considers her to be her own child). Marina is a sixty-something year old Huastecan Indian, and has had very little education or other breaks in life. She is used to hard physical work in order to hold her family together. Many years ago when she became a Christian her common-law husband walked out, leaving her to support and raise the family alone. This she has done well, and diligently, through much hard work. Marina, for the fourteen years that I have known her, has lived in a number of shacks which she has build herself.  All have been constructed with scavenged materials, and poles from the forest. Marina is one of the most generous souls that I know. Even with her meagre income she loves to give, and will never be without a cup of coffee and some pan dulce for a guest.

As I mentioned, Marina raised her granddaughter from infancy. Elizabeth, or Eli (pronounced Āleé), is one of the happiest people I know – at least she appears to be. I don’t know what fears and apprehensions reside in her heart – and certainly there must be many – but she always is ready with a big smile from ear to ear, and an embrace and a loving word. I have known Eli since she was twelve. Now she is twenty six. Eli married young – actually, like many here in Mexico, she never did legally marry, but rather lived common-law with a young man. Unfortunately he turned out to be a heavy drinker and did not support her well. They lived in a little shack beside Marina’s hovel, sharing not only walls, but also duties of care for the children which began to soon come along as well.

Two little boys soon made up a bouncing duo. Their home has only one bed, some very worn bedding and piled up clothing, a table, a couple of wooden homemade chairs, and a barrel cut down, and filled with sand to make a cooking stove (there is no chimney).  Outside are some old, blackened cooking pots and some miscellaneous plates and cups.

In February of this year twin baby girls were born to the family. Both are healthy, and with an unbelievable mop of the thickest, blackest hair that you can imagine on a tiny little person.

Theresa and I popped over to visit the family about a week ago. As you will remember from my last blog, we have been having weeks and weeks of rain – unusual for us. We felt that we wanted to see how our friends were doing in their little shack. We knew that the sheets of recycled corrugated tin that made their roof certainly had many holes, and the walls in many places were only sticks covered with scavenged cardboard, and even then, they did not all reach to the roof. Marina has only recently had major surgery. And anyway, we wanted to see the baby girls again.

We put together a little box of food items to share with them, picked up a roasted chicken and some fresh tortillas, and headed over to see them.

We were greeted with love and warmth. We could not sit in the first room of the house – the “kitchen and dining room” because the mud floor oozed with slimy muck. The weeks of rain had brought rivers of mud through the house. Instead we moved to a higher sleeping level where Marina actually has a concrete floor (however, the water still runs through this area as well, and comes in though the walls when the rain is accompanied by wind). We placed a chair in front of us as a table, and shared our feast of chicken and tortillas.

We found out the sad personal story that has unfolded within the family over the past months. Marina cannot work now due to lingering health problems following her surgery. She is basically without any sort of income whatsoever since she can no longer go out to work. Eli’s husband has recently walked out on her and the four children, leaving them without any means of support at all. She too, cannot work because her little twins are only five months old (the boys are two and three). Despite her broad, loving smile there was sadness in her eyes.

The little boys played and vied for attention as little boys will do. At one point, the littlest one was trying on grandma’s shoes and took a tumble – down the step and into the mud of the “kitchen” floor. Mom picked him up and wiped most of the mud off – at least from his face and hands. His clothes were still covered, but what else can be expected of little boys who live in houses of mud?

Theresa and I left feeling loved, and happy that we had come to spend the afternoon with our friends.  We also left feeling so grateful for what we have. At about the time that one feels that they have been given a tough row to hoe, a look across the garden to one’s neighbour will quickly remove any self pity.  We also left with the question that we so often ask each other – “what can, and what should we do”?

Theresa and I are planning to head north sometime around the end of August, unless we hear otherwise from James and Jessica. We have an “Orality” conference coming up this weekend which will be taught by friends of ours from Puebla, Mexico. I will try to bring you up to date on this in a later blog. We also have a number of other obligations which we need to “baton down” before we feel that we should leave.

If you have not done so yet, I really encourage you to look up James and Jessica’s blog site at:  http://mainlandmessage.blogspot.com

I do so, not only because they are our kids, and we love them dearly, and are extremely proud of them. But also, I believe that you will find the insights and revelations that they bring are deeply moving and profound.

God is good. We rest in his hand. This year has brought several records for me. This winter was the coldest, or at least the longest winter that I have experienced since I have lived in Cd. Valles. It has been the wettest, at least the longest periods of rain that I have seen here. I have witnessed the worst unemployment, and joblessness on the streets since I have lived here. And there has been more violence than I have ever seen in Mexico before. Last week somewhere between seven and fifteen police officers were shot to death here in Cd. Valles when a death squad of teenagers stormed into the main city police offices and shot dead on sight. They then drove the streets gunning down other police officers at random. They were allegedly hired assassins of one of the several Mafia groups vying for control.

Still, God sits on the throne. He remains unshaken, and unchallenged…

This entry was posted on Wednesday, August 4th, 2010 at 4:25 pm and is filed under VitW Blog.