First Impressions

MONDAY As we drive the hour from the airport to the resort, I am taken back by the obvious poverty. Along the roadway, there are tiny structures, stores. I see everything imaginable: food, old TVs, old refrigerators, plastic buckets, cooking stands, jewelry, sneakers, toilets and sinks, wood, cement blocks .... anything one might need. The housing, mixed in with the stores, is crowded and tiny. One or two rooms, tin roof or thatched roof, built with wood and mud. If the family has a bit of money, a plaster like substance is added so it looks cement block. (By the way, a thatched roof will last about 4 years - depending on weather conditions). At one point, stopped at a corner, I watch children playing in and around a muddy waterhole edged by several feet of garbage. The little children, perhaps 3-6, jump in, on and around the garbage as they play a game. No toys, I only see a broken bicycle frame (no tires) but the children are smiling as they run around with one another. My first impression - it is as sad and disturbing as any picture/documentary I've ever seen but made real by the voices, the smell of diesel as the buses wait to load 2 dozen people into space meant for 10-12 people (as well as the cargo and animals on top), and the smell of a fire as food is cooking.

I see several women dressed in a full burka. Ebony black material. Only a slit for the eyes. Lost individuality - nothing to identify who is under the black cloth. I wonder how one retains anything of their self if there is nothing visible to distinguish oneself. Even a soft voice is muffled by the cloth. My daughter offers another consideration: what if the identical dress actually adds to identity. One must dismiss outside looks and search for true identity, what is inside a person.