There were two major feelings that surfaced when we visited communities in order to conduct surveys and interviews. One feeling encompassed a desire of wanting to be immersed completely and totally in the lives of the community members. What would daily life be like if I lived here?
Yet at the same time, another, opposing feeling arose that made me feel distinctly aware of my separateness from the people in these communities. To answer my question above, could I (would I?) ever truly know what it would mean to walk the daily lives of the people there? In addition to the beautiful aspects of their lifestyle, could I accept the grim realities too? Could I ever know what it was like to not have clean drinking water? Or to live harvest to harvest? I don’t know. Could I one day understand? Maybe. But now, I don’t think I can. This realization brought in me all sorts of emotions of restlessness and sadness.
How was it fair, that the person right in front of me will live life unsecured of basic amenities such as clean water? Whereas I, not two hours prior to arriving to the community, drink clean, bottled water in my interviews with community members. How was it fair that I can drive to their communities, interview them about their lives, ask them about how poor their water conditions are, make well-wished propositions on a clean drinking water enterprise (which hopefully one day will be realized), and then leave their homes back to my hotel where good food, clean water, and comparable luxury can be found?
The worst part of it was that my feelings of empathy (or was it sympathy?) were outweighed by this feeling of relief. I would think to myself after visiting these communities, “Wow, the conditions here are terrible. But we don’t have to live this reality. We can leave. We can go home.”
How can I see such poverty and illness in the world yet display such grateful complacency and ignorant blissfulness?…
I believe in the sentiment that I won a geo-socio-economic lottery that privileges me to the very pinnacle of a pyramid that has billions of people below it. The crazy, mind-blowing thing is that I did absolutely nothing to deserve it. Absolutely nothing. With this realization having been slowly molded deep into my heart, I cannot accept a future that only serves myself. With the opportunities, the education, the God-given gifts, and the privileges granted to me, I know that I want to—I need to affect change that serves others.
My first night under the mosquito net
A water tank in Bramadero. The water system is very old and water isn’t properly processed.
A small, plastic version of the biosand filter.
“We are born to be free”
Our guide, our friend, and our liaison, Santiago.
A private water faucet with a LaMotte water testing kit.