Today I woke up, put on a pretty dress and went to Ouaga 2000 for church.
This morning this little girl woke up, put on the only dress she had and went to work.
Today I looked around at the vast riches stocked in homes that surrounded me, and marveled at their splendor.
Today I also looked into the eyes of children who were estatic that a white person had come to visit their small brick hut they call 'home'
Today I watched as a baby slept soundly in the comforting arms of protection and a future.
And today I held the hands of children whose future was tomorrow, hoping they would make it that long.
Today was a collision, a place where 2 worlds met, and I was the common thread. I lived today on each end of the spectrum, a place where there is no fear of losing, and a place where there is no guarantee of living.
Today I watched as my dear friend Debora, a burkinabe herself, was heart broken over the poor conditions in which these children live. To hear the words come from her mouth that how they survive is unimaginable and to watch her eyes fill with compassion over the little girl she supports from church broke my heart in two. She told me that for them, it is not possible to bathe every week (not to mention eat, we just happened to see a filthy little boy come running in), it isn't even possible for them to buy enough water to last them that long (25 cfa, the equivalent of .50).
It broke my heart and opened my eyes once again to the realities of where I am. Yes, this is Africa, the place so many dream of coming, but to those who live here this is home, the only place they will ever know. I have, with a very heavy heart realized that I cannot help every single person I see (though I have tried, just ask my roommates about the people who come to the door selling stuff), but to help just one here and one there makes all the difference in the world. To sit and share time with these belovedly beautiful people forever changes them and me as well. Katdafame (Deboras 'little sister') will always remember the day a 'Nasara' (white person, also my name in any outskirt area of town) came to visit her home, sat on her makeshift chair and took pictures of her and her friends. Even if I am here to only make a difference in little ways like that I know that I am being used by God.
Today was a collision, a place where 2 worlds met, and I was the common thread. I lived today on each end of the spectrum, a place where there is no fear of losing, and a place where there is no guarantee of living.
Today I watched as my dear friend Debora, a burkinabe herself, was heart broken over the poor conditions in which these children live. To hear the words come from her mouth that how they survive is unimaginable and to watch her eyes fill with compassion over the little girl she supports from church broke my heart in two. She told me that for them, it is not possible to bathe every week (not to mention eat, we just happened to see a filthy little boy come running in), it isn't even possible for them to buy enough water to last them that long (25 cfa, the equivalent of .50).
It broke my heart and opened my eyes once again to the realities of where I am. Yes, this is Africa, the place so many dream of coming, but to those who live here this is home, the only place they will ever know. I have, with a very heavy heart realized that I cannot help every single person I see (though I have tried, just ask my roommates about the people who come to the door selling stuff), but to help just one here and one there makes all the difference in the world. To sit and share time with these belovedly beautiful people forever changes them and me as well. Katdafame (Deboras 'little sister') will always remember the day a 'Nasara' (white person, also my name in any outskirt area of town) came to visit her home, sat on her makeshift chair and took pictures of her and her friends. Even if I am here to only make a difference in little ways like that I know that I am being used by God.
What a creative post. You're really developing into an amazing writer!
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