Words.

I didn’t know. That’s almost all that can be said. How can you find words to describe what I have seen, to try and explain reality, to people millions and millions of miles away…I don’t know. I do know that try as I might-my words will never do justice to what I have seen. Yesterday the team went into Eastleigh again. We began by drinking a nice cup of hot chia before heading out with the team. It was a crisp morning, I borrowed a sweater from Evan (one of the team members) which swallowed me seeing as he is a large guy. We stopped by a few new bases for me, some of the same scenes, men smoking marijuana, wasting the day away. We walked to the next base, men littered the sidewalk, sprawled out, so high they couldn’t comprehend a thing. “This is what happens when you sniff glue from age 9.” Larry the missionary pointed out, directing his statement to the man, about 40 curled into a ball rhythmically rocking back and forth, head down, shaking. He can’t stand, or walk. He could barely lift his head to look us in the eye.  We didn’t even attempt to give a message, they wouldn’t have understood. So we prayed. He bowed his head. And he rocked. I couldn’t close my eyes during the prayer. I stared at him, his head bowed in honor of the Creator who made him in his mother’s womb. Who knew him before he was formed. He is not a man now. He is a body. He is incapable of thought. His brain has been fried from a life addicted to drugs. His eyes were closed so tight. It was hard for me to have hope for this man. I have seen the living dead. And I hope to never see it again. Moving from that base, wading through the streets of trash we walked down an alley. Larry prepared our group for the next base, one of the hardest to see. I couldn’t imagine worse. It’s funny how you can always be proved wrong. Big momma is an extremely large woman. She was seated on a wooden bench, like a queen. Big momma sells kids drugs. She keeps them addicted; she has the police in her pocket. Big momma has become rich by selling 8 and 9 year olds drugs.  As we approached little boys and girls, 7,8,9 years old swarmed us. Little boys covered in dirt reached for us. They were shaking so bad they could barely keep their balance long enough to shake our hands. I have never seen a kid so little, look so old. Their eyes were vacant. Hope left long ago if it was ever there at all. I wanted to grab them all and take them away. I wanted to take them away from adults who know how to manipulate them. I wanted to feed them. I wanted to take them away from a dark alley and tell them that this isn’t all there is. I wanted to give them hope. About 30 little kids. High on drugs. To dull their hunger. We said a prayer with some of the kids. During the prayer I glanced to my left, the walls of buildings were lined with people asleep in the dirt and mud. Men stared up at us as we prayed. It was hard to tell when one person stopped and the next began. Beside the men were infants. Babies, in the dirt, in the mud. Asleep on the ground. With men who may or may not have been their parent. Together, in an alley, asleep in the gutter. Babies no longer than my arm. For the first time on the streets the tears burned at the back of my eyes. All at once came the emotions. I can’t begin to describe the emotions at being surrounded by masses of little kids and people and babies who have no hope. My heart broke in two. Just when you think it couldn’t possibly survive anymore, you can.  If there was a living hell, I was in it. As we exited, the little boys ran after us. “I want food.” One persisted, staring at me and begging for food. They held their glue bottles in their mouth so they could constantly sniff it. I want food. It was all they said. I know God said there will always be poor. The kind of poor I always pictured-is rich. This is poor. This is hopeless. This is the absence of God. It is overwhelming. It is all consuming. It knocks the breath out of you. And all I can say, is I didn’t know.