Friday, May 19, 2006

My heart was broken today. In the city of Iloilo, getting across the street is quite an ordeal—almost worthy of Olympic competition. It is almost suicidal to cross from one side of the street to the other, even if it is in the confines of a crosswalk. Traffic seems to speed up as they see hapless pedestrians (especially white ones) trying to make their way across the street. To solve this problem, the Filipinos have developed an ingenious system of pedestrian overpasses that crisscross various major intersections, going up and over any one of the four possible intersections. They are very handy for safely crossing the street. The sad part is that many very poor people live in Iloilo City and a lot of people have been forced into begging, especially children. We are shielded from seeing individual children in the Barangays who are desperately poor begging. Mainly because everyone in the barangay is relatively poor, and begging would not bring anything to the table. One of the places that beggar children like to hang out is on these pedestrian overpasses, soliciting spare change from people walking busily past, quickly trying to get past this young eyesore. Utilizing one of the overpasses today, I found myself face to face with two adorable, dirty faces gaping back up at me. These two beautiful young girls, probably no more than 5 and 8 years old, stood there at the top of the overpass steps, no shoes or flip flops in sight, wearing nothing but dirty, hand-me-hand-me-hand-me down dresses. They smiled widely, stuck out their bony little hands and spoke the words Illongo that I hate to hear in any language—“Do you have any money?” Now, to take this question and answer it honestly, I would have to stop my swift steps, sit down with the young girls at the top of this overpass, and explain to these young Filipinas that yes, I do have money. I am an American. My family back home lives in a relatively large house with a few cars and savings accounts to boot. I have so much money that not only have I never been hungry in my life, but I have actually helped poor little girls like you around the world with the small change left over in my pockets after buying the latest youthful necessity, like a Gameboy game or Lego set, when I was your age. In fact, I probably have more money in my meager bank accounts in the US than you will ever see in your entire life. However, little girls, even though I am incredibly wealthy compared to you, I cannot spare money right now. I have places to go, souvenir T-shirts to buy, things to do. Besides, if I gave money to the two of you gwapas, I would set a poor precedent and all of the children in Iloilo without food or money or families would see a white person like me and expect that person to give them money, too. I am sorry you beautiful little girls, but that is just not a good idea and I am in somewhat of a hurry, so have a nice day and good luck finding dinner tonight. I will pray for you when I am asking for blessing for my dinner later tonight. I would pat them on the head and be on my way. Of course, I do not really answer like that, buy my mind quickly goes through that reasoning and I quickly decide that the best way to skirt the whole issue is to ignore them both and mutter that I do not have any money. “Wara kwarta” I manage to sputter out and I walk briskly past them, trying my best to forget them even as they walk beside me with outstretched hands, not wanting to feel guilty and ruin the rest of my afternoon. I want to pick these two little girls up—all of the little girls and boys like them—take them home with me and love them. I do. But I cannot. I have to buy T-shirts. So the girls retreat back to the overpass in hopes of a more generous passerby and I stumble down the steps, trying not to think of these beautiful children of God. “If you feed them…” Didn’t Jesus do that? Didn’t He command us to do that? How can I be a Christian, a follower of the teachings and life of my savior and LORD Jesus Christ, who did so much for so many people, and not reach out to these girls? I try to rationalize in my mind, but I cannot. There is no rational explanation why I cannot show love to these girls like Jesus would. Not watered-down-pat-them-on-the-head-and-tell-them-that-I-will-pray-for-them-Christianity that I am so used to, but real love. So as I return from buying my all-important T-shirts, the ones that will be emblazoned with the United States Peace Corps logo which will proudly scream out to all that will glance at its fancy colors and designs how I have chosen to dedicate the next two years of my life to helping people, I need to cross the intersection again. Thankfully, the two girls are still there. I can redeem myself! I can rid myself of the guilt that will consume me later for not doing anything for these girls. Unfortunately, I forget my duty and walk straight past them again, head bent low trying to squirm past them unnoticed. I have become so programmed to ignore the poor, to walk quickly past any disheveled person while clutching my bag tightly to my side, so as not to draw their attention to me, that the idea of Christ-like love is shoved to the back of my mind, momentarily forgotten. Only when I get to the bottom of the steps do I realize. Only when the flesh and bones are not staring back at me with wanting eyes do I understand that I have become what I never wanted to be; a say-it-but-do-not-do-anything-type of Christian. So I reach into my wallet, pull out 10 Pesos (20 cents!!) and buy one little girl an orange, doing my part to love. That is what I can afford. 20 cents for an orange. Jesus, what would you have done? I am sorry that I let you down today. Please love these little girls more than I did. Help me to change my thinking and my doing. Help me to think like you all of the time, not just on the bottom of the overpass.
Scott