Poor, poorer, poorest

Or is it poorest, poorer, poor?

In which order do you help poor people.

The poverty line … how is it determined? Based on the income? Or on what people possess?

Or on the fact, that there is enough food every day.

Poor; and I speak of physical poverty.

Just like there are differences amongst the rich, there are also poverty lines amongst the poor.

Are people that have a TV richer than people who don’t?

You live in a mud hut, roof partly blown open, and no money to buy new nails to repair the roof. You own a one pit oil fire and have to walk 3 km every day to get water. You cook 1 meal every day for your 6 children that your husband abandoned.

There is no money for new cloths, no money for soap to wash you daily. Your kids are just hanging around a bit and complain all day that they are hungry.

Are you poor?

You have four children, one grandson of 2 and your mother who lives in the house. You have AIDS and often you are too weak to come out of bed. You have no job, but you are quite willing to help people because you have been helped yourself.
A small brick two-room house for seven people. You have two beds and a sofa, so everybody can find some space to lie down. The electricity is drawn off from the neighbours and you are lucky that your neighbor is so friendly to allow you to plug in, in his house.

You are ill, you don’t have the strength or the money to go and get food for your four kids and your grandchild, and you just lie down. The children come to your bed to ask for food, you are too weak, you want to sleep.

It is already two days that you feel too weak to come out of bed, you know that there is no food in the house and that the children haven’t eaten for two days, you get sad and the hunger makes you fall asleep again.

The third day you feel even weaker than the days before, but yet somewhere in your head is a little bell ringing: “think of your children”. You gather all your forces and ask your eldest son to go and get some help….

A 13 year old boy has to go to the “whites” to ask for food for his mother… The shame, the powerlessness for that boy…

Are you poor?

Two children, 8 and 10 years, live under steel plates. A small dirty space where rests of cloths lie on a pile, a knife on the ground, a dirty iron wash-up sink, a tray with the last remainder of a candle, matches next to it.

The oldest wears a red pullover with two big holes at his shoulders, a nice smile, feet without shoes and trousers he probably got when he was 6.

The second one only wears short trousers and a black string around his neck.

The more I visit them, the more I become aware of the details. The last time they had a slice of bread was 4 days ago. 4 days!!!!! The boys can still stand up and find the strength to smile. Mama died and they do not know their father. Family? They don’t know… they get no help, but they constantly smile.

Are you poor?

Loud music comes out of the house, there is singing and dancing in the house at the side of the road, just before the ravine. A little fire burns in front of the door and children run in and out. They all have a piece of chicken and bread in their hands, it is festival.

In the house you have to scream and yell to be heard above the music. A sofa kept in balance on bricks, a little table missing one leg, a TV showing some grey snow, a refrigerator with a broken plug, a little light at the sealing of which I doubt if it works, a brown old cupboard with trays and plastic flowers, a picture frame with a black-and-white photo of a man with a big mustache.

It’s a party … the chicken was slaughtered today and the children have brought some bread “from somewhere”. “From somewhere”? got it? stole it? one does not ask, there is food so there is a party.

Are you poor?

It is your own feeling, your own interpretation, your own sniffed smell, your own experience that determines for you what is poorer than poor…

When you ask them if they are poor, many of them will say “No, because my neighbour is doing much worse than I”. Nice, but this is not how to help yourself. Poverty is a strange animal, it gets you, you go into a trance, you become blind, and you become depressed, you start feeling sorry for yourself; you don’t find the power anymore.

What do you do when you don’t have a penny and you look into 8 eyes begging for some food … you turn your eyes away, you take your blanket and try to find peace in your dreams…

Gunter