My walk/ride (depending on how hot it is) to and from work takes me right through a small slum. In the mornings you can small the strong stench of the effects of the lack of a sewage system combined with the shouts of parents calling after their kids.
I don't know if I'll get used to seeing extreme poverty on a daily basis. I hope I won't grow complacent to the old man with no hands or legs on the side of the street, or the naked toddler covered in dirt, scratching his bloated little tummy (bloated because of the lack of nutritious food). Whether I'm walking through the slum, or riding through it on a rickshaw, my heart and stomach lurches and my head revolts when I see the man reach out to me, or the toddler cry alone in the mud. Not out of disgust for them of course, but out of disgust of myself. What am I doing? Why aren't I doing anything right this very second to help him..whatever I can? Part of my brain reasons that I'm not doing anything at this second because the "solution" is - I'd like to believe- a long-term sustained and vigilant effort that addresses a multitude of factors, not a quick hand out that will make me feel better more than help anyone. And of course the other part is probably that I'm afraid to help. I feel a twinge of guilt for my good fortune to have been born into this life without the multitude of obstacles that face these kids that are not heart and stomach-lurching for them, but simply a part of every day life.
Perhaps I will grow complacent over time - I suppose it's how we cope. I remember a few months after 9/11, one of the first movies I saw in the theatre was some Lethal Weapon part 322nd movie (not my choice, I can assure you). There was a scene where a mid-rise building was blown up and I can recall cringing and shrinking in my seat, shaken by the reality that we had all witnessed just months before. Probably a year later I was watching another wham-bam movie (again, not my choice)…and walking out of the theatre, I realized I didn't cringe or even give a second thought to all the violence that had just entertained my senses. Not that violence on TV is comparable with the effects of extreme and utter poverty literally calling out to you, but I became numb, and I'm still numb to the images we call entertainment.
Perhaps that's why I've changed the course of my career path - so that I won't become complacent and be a small part of that long-term sustained vigilant effort. Perhaps.
But I'll try to end on a lighter note. Speaking of vigilance. Walking through the streets of Dhaka is an exercise of constant vigilance (yes..I'm heeding Mad-Eye Mooney's advice…and yes, I am re-reading Harry Potter thank you very much). Not only am I looking at the ground for the next big mud puddle to avoid, but I'm looking to my sides for dangerously close rickshaws, CNGs and cars, and I'm also looking above so I don't run into any of the hanging severed electrical wires. Constant vigilance people. Whether walking around in Dhaka, or trying to tackle the monstrous elephant that is poverty.
No comments:
Post a Comment