She lay on the ground, in the dirt on the corner of a street
in the “wealthier” Petion-Ville. A straw hat partially shading her face from
the intense sun beating down, she appeared asleep. A soiled gauze bandage wrapped around her foot
and ankle. The older woman sitting next
to her, legs holding a large half gourd, head bent, eyes staring at nothing and
a hand stretched in silent plea.
Mom’s pulling their
children past appear not to notice her.
Does she lie there everyday? Is she ill or ill from malnourishment? It did not feel good to keep on driving and
I wondered if I would remember her as we continued down the hill. At the end of the block, we paused as an elderly
man with blue cataract eyes hobbled by with a pvc pipe for a cane. He didn’t seem to be having a problem
navigating the rubbly path that served as a sidewalk. And we drove on.
As we passed the bank that I’ve sometimes used, the young
woman with her baby caught my eye and held out her hand begging for some coins.
Its her regular hangout as I’ve seen her many times. The
drive suddenly seemed to be in slow motion. Not just traffic insanity that has
ruled the streets for weeks now. I
looked around at other people walking past- businessman in a smart suit leaving
the bank along side young man with sagging jeans. That could be seen on the streets in
Portland.
The homeless crazy girl with the rags she wears blackened
like the charcoal being sold on the side of the road not much farther away. A
sad contrast to the Christmas trees made of stark white branches stuck in
cement as she walks slowly past.
The shoulder of her shirt is torn and hanging , the jagged
hem of her skirt barely reaches mid thigh.
Despite her appearance, I’m happy
to see that she is surviving somehow with some dignity as her back is straight
and she holds her head high. I’ve seen
her often over the past 3 years, more often talking to her self and looking a
little wild. My phone beeps a message received.
A message that children were killed in a school in
Connecticut- 27 persons died; eighteen of
them children. Suddenly, the sky doesn’t
seem so blue. The trees blurry as I gaze out the window of the car trying to
comprehend why there is so much harshness in life. As we slow to make the turn
to the road, I see the man who sits on the side of the road, his legs bent like
a pretzel, he moves across the side of the road using his arms like legs. We’ve offered him a wheelchair but I guess he
feels he will make more money begging this way.
I’ve not forgotten the woman lying at the corner as we turn in the driveway
down to our house. My dog hops down the
stairs, her leg in a cast to greet me, happy that I’m home again. Sadness wins today.
