The sun rises slowly behind Mt. Misty, as it does every morning in Alto Cayma. The awakening sky is a rich azul with brush stroke clouds accenting the sea of blue. Rivulets of an ancient lava flow, long since hardened to stone, streak the mountain side offering a glimpse into the history of this volcano's most recent violent eruption over 400 years ago .
In the shadows of this majestic mountain are the dotted settlements of Peruvian Highlanders. These are the people that have come down from villages in the mountains into the outskirts of the city to escape hunger, terror and death for a chance at a better life. Vida de esperanza , a life of hope.
Soon the settlement dots grow as other families make their way down from the highlands. They are connected with others to form a blanket of human existence foreign to industrialized countries. Within these settlements, poverty is the lifestyle and extreme poverty the norm.
In the pre dawn darkness there is the din of barking dogs that welcome Peruvians to the new day. Roosters also signal the rising sun but their cackling is drowned out by the canine cacophony.
Morning revile is once again announced by the smell of the days' first fire. Being highland desert country, there are very few trees, none of which could be used for building a fire. Instead the fire is fueled with scraps of lumber, discarded shipping containers, cardboard and any other combustible material that can be found. This open fire will be used first to boil the water that was collected from the communal spigot the day before: boiled to kill the microbes within it that brings disease and death. Once the water is boiled, a morning beverage is made for the family. A few eggs are cracked into the lone frying pan in the home, cooked slowly, and then gently flipped to complete the cooking process. Pancito, little bread, completes the breakfast meal and announces that the day has officially begun.
The morning sun casts long shadows across the dusty road. The road, made from volcanic ash from millennia past, winds through the settlement until it joins with a larger road like a tributary to a river. Along the road comes a solitary walker heading through the shadows to begin a day's work that might earn him a dollar of pay. This day of work can last a few hours or until the setting sun makes it impossible to work any longer. Regardless, it is a day's work and a day's pay - one dollar.
He walks along the same path that he has walked countless times before. He does not begrudge the road; he is thankful for it. Thankful for the stones that press into the thin soles of his shoes that remind him he is on the path. Thankful for the dust that coats his clothing and feet that he can brush off when he has completed his efforts for the day. The road holds the promise of something better for his family. With each step he knows that he lives in the now. And the now in which he lives is not the Now of his dreams. This now is at once the first day of Creation and the first day of Eternity. It is the now that is filled with reminders of Life itself and of the dreams that are dreamt but not lived.
But he walks on.
And now the sun rises swiftly above the 17,000 foot peak of Mt . Misty. The shadows become shorter with each passing moment. The dogs stop barking, the roosters have become quiet, the fire has been banked in anticipation of the evening meal. The man walking on the road feels the warmth of the sun on his back as he continues to the work site. A dollar a day does little to transport this family from extreme poverty to poverty.
The man keeps walking.
The rising sun does more than brighten the countryside. Within the man it kindles the fire of life that he has banked many sun-rises ago. Each step brings him closer to his simple dream.
To reach his destination, he simply needs a bit of help. The vida de esperanza is within reach. The man needs a hand to hold onto. In the meantime, along the dusty road he walks. His footfalls are all that are heard.
0 comments:
Post a Comment